Love Addicts Anonymous: Part One

by J. C. Reed

  They didn’t have to send me to rehab.

  There, I’ve just said it.

  It’s an ugly word.

  Rehab.

  I associate it with needle marks on arms, yellow-stained faces, and moody alcoholics. To be honest, I’m sure being branded a love addict isn’t worse. It’s not like I follow Bruce everywhere and have to know what he is doing every minute of the day.

  It’s enough if I know what he’s doing every day.

  2

  KAIDEN

  * * *

  My life sucks.

  I'm not a sex addict. Honestly, I’m not. That word makes me cringe. I’m not even sure why I’m here, but apparently the board thinks my healthy sex life is spiraling out of control…

  Well, they’re wrong.

  It’s not an addiction if I enjoy every minute of it.

  It’s not an addiction if I love what I do.

  But tell that to the thick-sculled fatties with no sense of humor on my board.

  I’m not even greedy. I like to share. Twosomes, threesomes, but my all-time favorite: no strings attached, and no repetition. I love it wild and versatile, my sheets clean and my private drawers safe, and I love my monthly health checkups.

  If you jump between the sheets with me, I can guarantee that I’m groomed, clean, and will ensure you’ll have at least one orgasm, or two, or three.

  I’m good with numbers, better in life than on paper.

  But obviously, I’m not addicted, because I know when to stop.

  Not that it’s my intention though.

  I enjoy fucking far too much. Like I said, I like the workout, the challenge, and the chase because I’m a man of many aspirations. As long as I have a goal in sight, I like to sweep right in and finish it in one fast ride.

  See things through, so to say.

  When I came up with the idea of a 365-day non-stop sex calendar, I didn’t realize it would be such a rewarding challenge. My best friend, Cash Boyd, owner of the famous Club 69 establishments, couldn’t agree more. In fact, he’s the one who’s been more concerned that I make it than even I am. He’s my wingman.

  It’s not an easy task, let me tell you that.

  In a city of one million women, half of them are married. A small percentage is gay, widowed, and doesn’t fall between the age of twenty-two and forty years old. That’s already a small pool. What I’m looking for is the small percentage (of an already small pool) that actually wants to stay single and enjoys sex without any sort of commitment.

  I admit, that’s my favorite kind of woman.

  Unfortunately, they’re not easy to find. The majority are romantics pining for “The One.” I call them the “deluded lunatics.”

  Maybe it’s because I don’t fall in love.

  The only two things I’ve ever loved are my work and the way my dick always seems to know what to do.

  I just don’t like the drama, the pleading, having to stifle a woman’s hope that someday we’ll be in a relationship. For the life of me, I cannot see myself depending on someone to make me happy, to let someone so close to me that I would have to trust her.

  Which is why I’m always being upfront with every woman I meet before I invite her back to my place:

  The only relationship I have is with my cock.

  That’s another reason why I started the 365-day sex calendar in the first place.

  The way I see it, I’m doing women a favor. They learn from me. I live to please them and treat them well. That’s one of the most important rules I set up.

  I even love going down on them if I know they’re clean.

  I’m not doing men though. I’m as straight as a cannon and love to dive into deep places that are warm, moist, and welcoming, like a hot apple pie fresh from the oven.

  I said that to the company board. My honesty didn’t help my case. They had little understanding for my “sex escapades” as they called my little encounters, after which they came up with the grand idea of setting an ultimatum: retire from my own company and leave the board or agree to get therapy.

  That decision was a no-brainer. I’m far too young and sexy to retire. Besides, they need me because I’m the only one who knows how to run my company the way it should be run. It’s not my fault they’re thick-skulled brutes, with their only interest being fluffing up their savings accounts rather than expand. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to ask for investors, never sold the shares to start up. Obviously, I have to have some patience and understanding, what with most of them being past sixty and counting.

  You can’t expect people who have no idea what Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, and the likes are to get me.

  I’ll tell you a secret.

  I do actually know what’s going on.

  They’re bored with their lives because nothing ever happens, which makes them jealous of me.

  That’s right.

  They’re jealous of me.

  Jealous because they’re married and stuck in their boring routine.

  Jealous because they think they have left their best years behind and miss their old, carefree days.

  Divorce is always an option, but not when it’s already their second and third marriage.

  They love their mansions, their Botox wives, but they still think the grass is greener on the other side. That’s because the grass is greener on my side.

  Not my fault though.

  You can’t have it all. Even I know it, which is why I do have a set of rules. Like:

  * * *

  1. I never do repeats. Ever. I’m fairly proud of that. If you’re a prude, don’t ask me what my sheet number is because it’s only a number. To you, anyway.

  * * *

  2. I don’t hire prostitutes or sex workers or strippers. And I don’t do married women or religious fanatics or virgins—not because they’re not hot, but because I have my own standards. These types of women get too invested in the idea of marrying, and I have no time for healing their broken hearts. I’m not a lifeboat either. I don’t save anyone from their mundane lives.

  My point is: don’t ask me for commitment. Don’t tell me you’re married, or want kids. Don’t ask me how many women I fucked before you just like I won’t ask you how many breaths you’ve taken in this little thing called life.

  To me, it doesn’t matter.

  You may think I’m a manwhore.

  I assure you, I’m not.

  I just like to give back the enjoyment and learn from experience the same way you would read a book and savor each and every nuance of it, which brings me to point three.

  * * *

  3. I’m a business strategist and marketing expert who always keeps things uncomplicated. Which is one of the reasons why I often take a break from my hectic work life to enjoy all the benefits of being a VIP member at several clubs.

  Club 69 is my favorite, more so because, like I said, I’m friends with the owner. Cash gets me and knows the kind of woman I usually go for.

  He even came up with some of the rules to make sure my 365-day non-stop sex calendar challenge turns into a success. Sadly, my 365-day non-stop calendar is what got me in trouble with the board in the first place. See, they don’t get it.

  Like the guy sitting in front of me, cradling an oversized newspaper in his arms.

  “This is a catastrophe for the company,” Ben says. “We’ve already lost two million in revenue.” He slaps the paper for effect, then looks up, his gray blue eyes meeting mine. “This cannot go on, Kaiden.”

  I cringe at the last word. Only my friends and family are allowed to call me Kaiden, and they never do so lightly.

  “What do you expect me to say?” I shrug. “That I’ll give up my private life to make you happy?”

  There is a short silence.

  My brother, Chase, leans forward.

  Now, let me tell you something about my brother.

  He’s a kickass attorney. He’s proven himself on numerous occasions. Whenever either of us needed to get out of a sticky situat
ion, he always knew what to do.

  Except, now I’m not so sure.

  There’s a frown on his face, and he takes too long to reply. Either he’s preparing for a long speech or worse, he agrees with the board.

  For the sake of our friendship, I hope it’s the first option.

  “Chase.” My sharp tone conveys a warning I hope he’s clever enough to heed.

  He turns to me and exhales a long sigh. “Kade, they’re right.” I stare at him with a mixture of shock and anger. “You’ve painted the company in a bad light.”

  “Et tu, Brute?” My mouth tightens in a line.

  Again I’m reminded that we thrive on opposites.

  I may have been adopted, but growing up in the same household and being closer than real brothers, I would have thought Chase would agree with me for once.

  I guess I was wrong.

  “Those are serious accusations,” Chase continues. “As your attorney, I can tell you this could ruin your career. Your life. The woman in question—” Chase waves his hand to Ben. “—what’s her name?”

  “Brenda,” Ben says.

  “Brenda went to the tabloids,” Chase says, as though I’m not familiar with the outcome of my last sexcapade. “This 365-day nonstop sex calendar of yours is earning serious attention right now—and not in a good way. We can’t afford it to draw any more attention or else we’ll end up losing important deals and clients. If you don’t stop, we’ll soon be facing a crisis.”

  “She never asked for money,” I say.

  “Yet.” Chase sighs. “She hasn’t asked for money yet. But once she learns that you take photographs of all your conquests, she’ll want a payout. In the meantime, she’ll go to every rag magazine that wants her and earns her media coverage.”

  “She won’t.” I let out a chuckle because I know Brenda. I know what she really wants.

  Remember the kinds of women you should never go for? Yeah, she falls into one of those categories.

  “You can’t know that.” Chase interlinks his fingers as he stares me down. “Did you get her written permission to take photographs?”

  I exhale. “No, but it’s not like I’m publishing and selling the snapshot of a face on the Internet.”

  I groan.

  What’s the big deal? The snapshots I take are there to help me remember the women I’ve bedded. They aren’t even dirty, unless the woman in question wants them to be.

  I always make sure I never photograph below the waist unless I’m asked to.

  “For now,” Chase keeps saying. “But the moment your other conquests come forward, that’s the moment your entire life will go downhill.”

  I drape my arm over the chair and lean back, thinking. Brenda was into me a bit too much. I gave in and slept with her in a moment of weak judgment. Once she realized we’d never walk down the altar, the claws came out.

  At last, I draw a deep breath as I realize maybe that makes her unpredictable. “All right, little brother. What do you recommend we do?”

  “You mean what we recommend you to do?” Another board member, Vince, chimes in. He’s the oldest in the room. His hair is streaked with gleaming silver, which kind of reminds me that I’ve no idea what he actually does in the company. Investors and shareholders shouldn’t have the kind of power he has.

  “There was a meeting yesterday.” Ben ignores the glances I throw at my brother and continues, “It’s been decided that you’ll attend the LAA center. It’s the only place that will help save your reputation which, as I’m sure you know, is our reputation, too.”

  The LAA center?

  I snort.

  “I’m not a sex addict.”

  Ben sighs. “We’ve already discussed all other options. You have no choice. You either attend it or you retire. It’s that simple.”

  With that he gets up. “Your choice, Kaiden,” he throws at me in the kind of voice I’d like to punch right out of him. “Your therapy starts tomorrow. If you’re not there, you can kiss your seat goodbye. For the sake of our friendship, we recommend you do as we say.”

  I stare at him, my anger flaring up. “May I remind you that I built this company from scratch?” I point my finger to each of the six board members, including my brother. “You wouldn’t be sitting here if it weren’t for me.”

  Ben nods his head as if he saw that coming. “We’re all aware of your hard work, Kaiden. But your company wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for our shares, connections, and support. Right now, you’re risking our investment and reputations for a bit of a good old roll in the hay, so to speak.” He stares me down, which doesn’t quite have the threatening effect I’m sure he’s going for.

  “It’s still my private life,” I mumble, irritated.

  “That may be true, but we won’t let you ruin the very company you and your brother worked so hard to build.” His expression softens. “Your father and I were friends long before you were born. Remember our agreement before we agreed to invest in your business?” He pauses, but not long enough to give me a chance to reply. “We want you to get better.”

  Better?

  I snort.

  Frankly, I’ve never felt better. The sex is ah-mazing. Like rip-your clothes-off-amazing. Imagine you could have all the food you wanted. Now imagine what you got is so deliciously and mouthwateringly melty you’d instantly lick your fingers, and that’s sex to me. Just give me a woman with hips and something to grab onto so that it doesn’t feel like I’m fucking a blowup doll. Give me a pair of tits—any size, any shape—I can push my face, or cock, in between, and I’m happy and ready to go.

  “I’m doing very well, thanks for asking,” I say.

  He shoots me a hard stare before he gets up, followed by the other board members. Only my brother remains seated.

  As soon as the door closes behind them, I stand and walk to the bar.

  “It’s not even ten a.m., Kade,” Chase says.

  “It probably is…in Australia.”

  I grab a bottle of whiskey and two glasses before I return to the table.

  My hand’s slightly shaking as I pour the golden liquid into two tumblers, spilling.

  My anger flares up again. “It’s a fucking mess.”

  “Just do it, Kade,” Chase says quietly. “It’s only for six weeks.”

  Smiling coldly, I push a glass across the table toward him. “What about my calendar?”

  “What about it?”

  I wave my hand. “Don’t tell me it’s all been in vain. I only have a few women left.”

  He stares at me with no sense of humor. “How many are we talking about?”

  I lift my hand. He stares at my three fingers. “Jesus, dude. I’m surprised you haven’t caught an STD yet.”

  “I’m not stupid. You know how careful I am.” I lean back, lifting the glass to my lips, but I don’t take a sip yet. “I’m even taking a non-hormonal male contraceptive to avoid getting anyone pregnant.”

  Chase’s brows shoot up. “You’re taking a male pill?” His expression betrays his shock, which isn’t a surprise given that Chase can be quite old-fashioned. “You know what? Forget I even asked that. I don’t want to know.” He shakes his head and releases a sigh. “Look, I’m not judging you, all right? You’re my brother and no matter what you do, it’s your business and I’ll always have your back. But…” He wets his lips, hesitating, probably choosing his words. “Please, just do the six-week program. After that… resume whatever you were doing before, just be more discreet about it. Fuck, I’ll even be your wingman. Anything, as long as I can keep you out of trouble.”

  I give a little snort.

  Chase being my wingman would be the worst thing that could happen to me. He’s married and ready to be a father.

  “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?” I ask.

  “I…”

  “No, answer the question, Chase. Do you know what you’re expecting of me?” I ask sharply. “You request that my dick go on hiatus. That’s not human. It’s fucking immora
l. Fucking torture. I wouldn’t expect that from my worst enemy.”

  “Look, if monks can do it, you can do it.”

  “I’m not a monk. I’m an adult with a healthy appetite for sex.”

  Chase holds out his hand, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “I get it. You need it.”

  I cringe at his choice of words.

  He makes me sound like I need sex in a bad way.

  “I’m not a sex addict, all right,” I say. “I just enjoy it. That’s all it is. A hobby, if you have to define it.”

  “You didn’t go a day without sex in the past year.”

  “That’s because I want to reach my goal.”

  Chase shakes his head. “You are at the top of the world right now, Kade. The company has never done so well and you want to throw it all away. For what? For some fun?” He regards me for a few seconds, his anger visible in the way his fingers clutch at the glass. “Just do it, bro. How you do it, when you do it, with whom, it’s none of my business. Lie your way through. I don’t care. Honestly, I just want to see your ass at the rehab center tomorrow.”

  The door opens.

  We both look up at my new assistant, Miranda, striding in, a folder tucked beneath her arm. Her hair is piled high on her head, and she’s wearing a sexy dress.

  “Oh, sorry,” she says. “I thought the conference room was empty.”

  Chase gives her a short nod of his head. “That’s fine. We were about to finish up anyway.”

  She drops an easygoing smile. Her entire posture is nervous, as if it was her first day, even though Miranda has been working for me for three months now. I understand her nervousness, but I also think she has a bit of a crush on me.

  I wink at her, which earns me a strange glance from Chase.

  “Can I bring you anything?” she asks.

  “We’re fine,” Chase says.

  “Actually, I’d love some coffee.”

  Chase shoots me a warning glance, which I shrug off.

  “Coming right up.” Miranda leaves, closing the door behind her.

  “Seriously?” Chase mumbles.