I Have Lived And I Have Loved: A Charity Romance Collection

by Willow Winters

  A quick search—and voila! There she was. And how convenient. Only three miles from me. Her perfect smile. Her flushed cheeks. She looked happy. Too bad I’m about to change that. Her profile was impressive if I was looking for a quick, hot lay. Though, a bit of an overachiever if you asked me. Usually, I would steer clear of these types of chicks. On paper, they come off as the perfect hookup—hungry for cock, and that’s about all. Her reviews pinged her as just that. But there was something fishy about her I couldn’t put my finger on. If I had to guess, she’s a money chaser. No one likes dick that much.

  I friend requested her and set my plan in place: get in her good graces, ask her to meet, and humiliate her. Yeah, I’m an asshole. It’s why people don’t mess with me.

  Who would have thought she was a fraud? Certainly not me. Those plump lips were a sure thing, and even though I had no actual intentions of touching her, I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking that bratty little mouth of hers.

  Her friend had set up the profile. That shit caught me off guard. Disappointed, it didn’t deter me. She still had to pay for her actions.

  After finding out she was fake, I changed routes. Getting straight to the point of “let’s fuck” was off the table. Apparently, she wasn’t a cock gobbler after all. She had a story. A wah-wah sob story. So, I played along. Switching gears, I did what all sappy girls want: I befriended her. I played the victim alongside her and had her eating out of the palm of my hand. She opened up like a blooming flower and practically told me her whole life story. Her cheating ex sounded like a douche, and part of me did want to find him and kick his face in. But mending her broken heart wasn’t my problem. Getting revenge was. If she were mine, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight. But my intentions aren’t pure. I plan on doing worse than breaking her heart. Again, I’m an asshole. I’ll never claim to be anything but.

  What I didn’t expect was to talk to her until the early hours of the morning. I told myself it was part of the plan, but she had pulled me under her spell, and I found myself ditching my friends and heading home. I laid in bed, imagining her doing the same, and made small talk. Fed her bullshit to keep her wanting more. I almost slipped and gave her real details of my life instead of Dallas James’. No one puts their real names and pictures on those apps. Dallas? Let’s just say I’m a Cowboys fan.

  By the time I got off the phone with her, I was conflicted. She wasn’t the bratty little bitch I’d pinned her to be. She was nice and funny. And the more she sucked me in, the more I wanted to get to actually know her. Take her out.

  Then I remembered what she’d done. All the weird shit she was making me feel was bullshit. I didn’t do romance, and she wasn’t going to change that. Plan back in place. Tomorrow, I get her to meet up with me and see how she likes to be humiliated.

  “What’s that smile for?” Joe asks, bringing me back to the present.

  I claim my seat at the pub table and take a hefty sip of my beer, my smile ear to ear. “Oh, just a pet project I’m going to have fun with.”

  Chapter 5

  Cowboys Suck

  Melanie

  I walk into the packed sports bar, a spring in my step, a smile on my face, and a new buzzing in my belly. Dallas James. Handsome, funny, future possibilities. And what an unexpected surprise he turned out to be. We had so much in common that by the end of the night, I felt like we’d known each other for years. Which means….

  My cheeks flush. I’m going to ask him out. Gah! Is that too eager? Will I send the wrong message? Once inside, I scan the place, searching for Jenna and Deanna. I spot Jenna instantly, glad she snagged a great spot and head toward the center of the bar. “Hey, ladies. Sorry I’m late. Long night. You’re never going to guess—”

  “Hey, look, it’s the girl from last night!” My head whips to the table next to us and my eyes bulge as three familiar faces stare back at me. Two smiling like Cheshire cats, and one frowning. Him.

  “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” the asshole growls, slamming his beer on the table. We have a stare-off until one of us finally uses our voice. “You stalking me now, priss mouth? Really want my cock, huh?”

  His friends laugh, and Jenna starts to get up, in attack mode. I stop her, shoving her back in her seat. “Don’t bother. He’s a waste of time—which I’m sure every girl says after five seconds in his presence.” I climb onto my chair and mentally pat myself on the back when his friends bust out laughing. I win, jerk.

  The waitress brings me a Bloody Mary, and I take a big sip. Too bad it’s going to take more than just this cocktail to calm my now rattled nerves. Who the hell does this guy think he is? Macho. Arrogant. Just as good looking as he was last night. Not even that scowl hurts him on the sexy factor. But sexy or not, he’s a jerk. Dallas springs to mind, reminding me there are good guys out there.

  I brush him off and turn my attention to my friends. “So, how was the rest of your night? Mine was great. Met a guy.”

  Both girls gasp, spitting out question after question. “No way! How? Did you use the app? Holy shit! Tell us everything!”

  I take another sip of my drink. “Sorry, ladies. I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Probably because you’re full of shit,” Hot Asshole grumbles next to me. My head jerks in his direction, and his scowl deepens.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, princess. No one as uptight as you got laid last night. Unless you’re calling your hand a new guy.” His friends laugh. Mine snicker?! Traitors! Point for him.

  I match his scowl. “I think it’s clear the only one who didn’t get any is you by that snarl on your face. You look pretty tense. Why is that? Still waiting for tiny dicks to come back in style? Oh wait, they never were.”

  The scorching fire in his eyes heats my cheeks. I imagine those eyes burning into my flesh as his tongue drags down my body, taking out all that anger on my sex. The tiny dick thing is a ruse to get him fired up. I stole a peek at the bulge in his pants last night, and he definitely looks well-endowed.

  “Jesus, you sure you two hate each other? Looks like you’re about to fuck right here in the bar.” One of his friends laughs and high-fives his other buddy. I pull my eyes back to my own table and reach for my phone. Pulling up FitItIn, I go into my messages.

 

  Melanie: Hey, really enjoyed our talk last night. Hope you were able to get some sleep.

  It’s showing he’s offline, so I put my phone down and try to focus on my friends and some football. I can’t help but shift my gaze to my right, catching Hot Asshole grinning like a jerk at his phone. Probably just got the test results that he doesn’t have chlamydia—this time around.

  My phone dings and I grab it, my own smile spreading across my face when I see Dallas responded.

  DallasJames: Same. And sorry, no sleep for me. I had this girl on my mind. Nice name change. What’s my pretty girl up to today?

  My cheeks flush. My pretty girl. Kind of fast, but I like it.

  Melanie: Spending the day watching sports with my girlfriends. I have to suffer through this Cowboys game before the game I want to watch comes on. Not sure who you root for, but the Cowboys suck.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

  Everyone, including me, turns at Hot Asshole’s outburst.

  “You cool, dude?” his friend asks.

  He picks his head up. “Yeah. Just peachy.” He doesn’t waste an opportunity to set those steely eyes on me.

  DallasJames: I’m not a huge sports fan. But I heard the Cowboys were good.

  He’s not lying when he says he’s not a sports fan.

  Melanie: They suck. If you want to root for a team, I suggest the Chiefs. They’re a sure win.

  The bar erupts when the quarterback for the Cowboys fumbles, costing them a touchdown.

  Melanie: So, I was thinking...maybe we can hang out sometime…

  His location is showing he’s right on top of me… Wait, is he here? I look around the bar to see if I
can spot him.

  Melanie: Hey, strange. Your location is pinging right by me. You’re not at Miller’s Sports Bar, are you?

  He immediately signs off. Huh. That was weird. Did I scare him by being so upfront? Did I ask him out too soon? He called me his pretty girl. Ugh, why is dating so hard!

  “Aw, what’s that pout for? Get denied a guzzle session?”

  This guy is such a jerk! I twist on my stool to face him. “You know what, you have to be the vilest human I’ve ever had the pleasure of crossing.”

  “What a compliment. Sounds like you’re asking me to go steady.”

  I gasp. “Far from it. More like asking you to play in traffic.”

  He leans forward, too close for my liking. “Would you be the one pushing me? Hmmm, having your hands on me before I meet my death doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe a quick hand job would be nice or since you like it salty a quick blow—”

  I toss my Bloody Mary in his face and hop off my chair. Not intimidated by his death glare, I get in his face. “You only wish you had these hands and lips around your junk, which I’m sure is less than mediocre. Which is why you’re such an utter ass. And I’d love to touch you—if it led to you falling in front of a semi-truck and exploding all over Main Street—”

  This time, he shuts me up.

  His hand seizes the back of my neck, and he kisses me.

  Kisses me!

  My eyes threaten to pop out. My hand raises in preparation to slap him off me. But I don’t. I kiss him back. His lips are plump and silky against mine, and like some looney toon, I welcome it. No, I savor it. Push away, what? Not a chance. His mouth has an agenda, and I’m falling down the rabbit hole of his kiss. The raw tension between us fuels us as we fight for control. Tremors travel up and down my spine, and I’m too ashamed to acknowledge the fireworks going off behind my eyelids. His tongue slides against mine, and I lose myself in his taste. His feel. The way his hand tightens against my nape. Goosebumps assault my flesh, and my heart begins to skip every other beat. The world around me fades, and I melt into him, relishing in our connection.

  A small moan escapes me.

  A low, sexy laugh falls from his lips as he abruptly pulls away, leaving me unsteady on my feet. Then he opens his big, fat, jerk mouth. “Hmmm...the way you just kissed me, you most definitely want those lips on more places than my mouth. Shame I’m not into shitty sports fans and even shittier kissers.”

  He stands, almost knocking me over, and storms off toward the bathroom.

  Chapter 6

  Nothing like jacking off to a football game

  * * *

  Lukas

  I storm right past the bathroom and continue walking straight out the back exit. That fucking girl. My blood boils. I just fucking kissed her. And holy shit, I liked it. No, I loved it. Thank fuck we were in a public place because I would have stripped her bare and done more than taste her pretty lips.

  I jump on my motorcycle and rev the engine, the growling sound similar to the rumbling inside my chest. I’m supposed to hate her. Humiliate her for humiliating me. An eye for an eye.

  Instead, I kissed her.

  I kick up my kickstand and peel out, needing to cool off. My phone vibrates in my pocket—no doubt the guys wanting answers. But I can’t deal with them right now. Since the moment she bumped into me, my life has felt out of control. My anger spikes at how easily I’ve allowed her to affect me. So what she insulted me? She has no idea who I am. I know my guy down below is a stallion. So why do I care that she doesn’t know that? Because for some sadistic reason, I do.

  Fuck that.

  No, I don’t.

  I’ve never cared about what a chick has thought about me, and I’m not starting now. I stop at the local liquor store to pick up a twelve-pack and head back to my apartment. I’m pissed I’m missing the second half of the Cowboys game…because of her. As soon as I get situated on my couch, the game ends on a touchdown. Cowboys lose.

  This is all her fault.

  My phone dings and I look down to see Melanie has sent me a message.

  Melanie: My Chiefs aren’t off to a good start.

  Attached is a selfie of her staring away from the camera, her lips in a cute-as-fuck pout. I shouldn’t respond to her. This plan is starting to backfire on me. I should delete her ass before it goes too far.

  DallasJames: Your cute pouty face is worth it, though. What would you look like if they were winning?

  Why?

  Why am I egging this on? Tell her to fuck off and delete her. She’s not even my type: blonde, compliant, no attachments. Shit, I can’t even remember the last time I gave a girl more than twenty-four hours of my attention. But with her, I just want to steal it from her as if she owes it to me. As if it’s mine to steal.

  Melanie:

  Fuck me.

  I get offline and throw my phone to the floor. I watch the Chief’s game like I give a shit and cheer when they do well, knowing she’s probably happy. I stare at her photos like a jag-off and then actually jack off. Then I consume all twelve beers and pass out on my bathroom floor.

  Chapter 7

  It all started with the kiss of death

  Melanie

  One week later…

  Walking into the coffee shop, I groan at the long line. If I don’t get caffeine in me, I’m going to wither away and die. That or my pre-caffeine inner demon is going to take over and wreak havoc. Pulling out my phone, I check for new messages. My face lights up when I see one from Dallas. I swipe open my app.

  DallasJames: Morning, beautiful. How’s my girl doing today?

  My cheeks are sore from always smiling—all due to him. We’ve been chatting nonstop since last Sunday. He’s funny and caring and so attentive and responsive. He’s like my very own Prince Charming—who I still haven’t technically met.

  At night, I imagine him lying next to me. His words have a voice, and his real hands skate down my belly. In my head, they’re large and warm. Rough and not shy. He takes exactly what I offer and fills my sex with his thick, glorious fingers. He works me up until I’m on the verge of detonating, then gives me what I really ache for: his long, thick cock. Every night, I lose myself to this fantasy and explode into the most intense orgasms.

  The problem is Dallas always morphs into the face of Hot Asshole.

  It’s all his fault.

  I have this great guy who treats me amazingly…well, it’s all virtual, but he makes me smile and laugh and not feel like shit. And instead of thinking about him, my mind goes to him.

  I blame it on that kiss of death. If he hadn’t kissed me, I would have been fine, and I wouldn’t have given him a second thought. Those lips, though…

  I huff, staring at my phone. I need to push Dallas to meet in person. We’ve done enough getting to know one another. I don’t see why we shouldn’t take this to the next level. I’m done with the constant masturbating. It’s time to have real sex. I need real sex! Not fantasy sex using Hot Asshole’s—

  “You gonna move or not? Other people want coffee too.”

  That voice! My brows crease, and I cock my head and look behind me. “You.”

  “You,” he mimics.

  “Jeez, you’re like a bug I can’t kill. Are you stalking me now?” He looks great in his ripped jeans and worn dark t-shirt.

  “Hardly,” he utters and continues to stare at me as if waiting for something. No way is it an apology for throwing my drink at him. If anything, he can apologize to me for kissing me. Which hasn’t stopped replaying in my mind. “Did you want to go another round, or do you normally stare at people like you want to devour them?”

  Insert bubble popping sounds.

  Asshole.

  I whip around and focus on the menu board. “I’d rather saw my lips off,” I hiss.

  He’s suddenly too close, his cologne threatening to strangle the sense out of me. His warm breath skates across my neck, and I fight the shudder of goosebumps gathering across my arms.
“I’d hate for you to do that. Even though you’re a bit much, I quite enjoyed kissing you.”

  I swear, if my knees choose now to buckle and I fall to the ground, I will die! His comment simmers in my head, the words having their intended effect. A tremor of heat blasts down my spine, right to my inner thighs. Shit. I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately needing to pull myself together. My rebuttal is on the tip of my tongue, but my throat is suddenly too dry.

  His next words almost paralyze me. “Let’s call a truce.”

  I swear, if I twitched, his lips would touch my flesh. Just twitch, girl. Blame it on a sudden earthquake only you felt.

  “And what makes you think I want to call a truce with you?” The hoarseness of my voice clearly says, Yes, let’s call a truce and seal the deal with an old-fashioned bang back at your place.

  “Because I think in some sort of way you like me. And in some sort of way, I like you. And I think, if we got along, there are a lot of things we would like together.”

  I don’t know whether to tell him to fuck off or ask him where to sign. I pivot around to face him. He truly is a sight. He’s got that bad boy look- his dark hair a mess, eyes the color of the most luxurious emeralds, and his teeth, perfect, just like his smile. Shit…I’m in trouble.

  He sticks his hand out. “Lukas.”

  Still suspicious, it takes me some time before I reach out and shake his hand. “Mel—” Dammit! A delicious shiver runs down my spine, like a bolt of electricity. He feels it too. I snatch my arm back, ignoring the spark between us. More like a livewire threatening to electrocute us.