Torn: Part Three (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (The Torn Series Book 3)

by Corgan, Sky

  What am I doing? This isn't like me at all. It's been so long since I've gotten laid though. Two years, if we're counting. The stresses of life have been getting to me too much lately, and I just need some type of release. A way to forget everything, if only for an hour.

  I hope he lasts that long. In truth, I have no idea how these things typically work. Will he just hit it and run, or will he want to stick around and talk for a while? Talk. That's a laugh. Yeah, that's exactly what a horny guy wants to come do. Talk.

  I stare down at the strappy lingerie I'm wearing and readjust my boobs. It's like I'm wrapped in a sausage casing of black striped spandex and mesh. The thing looked far better on the rack. Maybe I should take it off.

  There's not enough time for that though. He'll be here any moment now. And as all of my guy friends have told me in the past, most guys will nail anything with a vagina and a pulse. Luckily, I have both.

  The minutes tick by like hours as I stand here, shifting my weight from one foot to the other every few seconds and wringing my hands together in nervous anticipation. Hopefully, I can get through this. It seemed like such a good idea when I was sitting in front of my computer, feeling so desperate I'd take just about anyone.

  Of course, I got a lot of hits with my headline: Horny girl looking for a night of pleasure. I must have gone through at least two dozen responses before I landed on Leo's email. He was the only guy who seemed to understand what spelling and punctuation were, so I settled on him. Not to mention, he was one of the best-looking guys in the bunch, and his response email didn't start with a 'Hey babe' or 'Send me nudes'.

  I hear footsteps approaching the door, and I quickly peek through the peephole. The guy I'm expecting is an older gentleman, at least twenty years my senior. He's thin with an oblong face, salt and pepper hair, beady brown eyes, and a nice set of teeth. Not really my type, but beggars can't be choosers.

  A woman passes by my hotel room door, and I sigh in relief. Maybe it's not too late to change my mind. This isn't what I want after all, I decide, stepping away from the door to walk back to the bed and start shimmying out of my lingerie. The guy is supposed to reimburse me for half of the hotel room, but I don't mind eating the cost if it saves me from my own depravity. There has to be better ways to relieve stress than this. Maybe I should have used that fifty dollars to go to counseling instead of looking for a booty call.

  I have the lingerie gathered up just below my boobs when I hear a knock on the door. It's like all the air has been sucked out of my lungs when I realize he's arrived. There's no escaping now, but maybe I can talk my way out of this. Or better yet, maybe I can pretend like I stood him up, and he'll just go away.

  I hold my breath, staying as still as a statue. The damn lingerie is strangling me though. It's meant to be tight, but suddenly I feel like it's about to cut me in half.

  Several seconds pass before he knocks again. I exhale slowly, feeling sick to my stomach. What a horrible thing to do to someone. I know he drove here straight from work, expecting to get laid. How would I feel if someone stood me up like this? Crushed. My self-esteem would take a bigger nosedive than it already has since I put on some weight. I feel like I owe the guy at least an excuse, even if it is lame and makes me seem like an irrational twat.

  Slowly, I tiptoe back to the door, still trying not to make any noise. My eye nears the peephole, and part of me hopes he's already walked away. I would have heard that though. He's still standing there, and I know it.

  When I look through the peephole, my expression turns to confusion, and I sigh in relief. The guy standing on the other side of the door is definitely not the one I'm supposed to be meeting tonight.

  I pull my lingerie back down over my hips and unbolt the door. While I'm not out of the woods yet, at least I still might be able to escape before Leo comes if I can send this guy on his way quickly. Now that I'm thinking about it, I shouldn't even be bothering to open the door, but this guy is pretty cute, and talking to him, if only for two seconds, might make the night seem like not quite so much of a waste.

  Pretty cute was an understatement. As I crack open the door to address him, my eyes lock with the most amazing green eyes I've ever seen. This guy is smoking hot. Too bad I couldn't have hooked up with him instead.

  “Can I help you?” I ask politely, trying not to reveal my scantily-clad body.

  “Are you Fennel?”

  “I am,” I reply apprehensively.

  “I'm Leo. Can I come in?” He gestures to the door as if he expects me to open it for him.

  My mouth falls agape for a moment before I regain my composure. “No, you're not. You look nothing like the guy in the pic.” I've heard of people being uglier than their pictures, or being a lot older or fatter. I've even heard of people using pictures of models when they were actually trolls. Never before have I heard of the opposite happening.

  “If you let me come in, I'll explain.” He flashes me a charming smile.

  The smart part of me tells me to turn him away. The horny part of me opens up the door and invites him in. If there is any chance that I can ride out the night with this guy between my legs, I'm going to take it. Morals and caution to the wind. Sex for the win!

  I try not to stare at him too blatantly as he steps inside. He's wearing a cream-colored sweater that fits him perfectly and a loose pair of jeans. My God is he ever delicious. When he walks past me, I swear I catch a scent of heaven. Every moist part of me waters from being in his very presence. Suddenly, searching the Internet for sex with a stranger seems like the best idea I ever had. This guy looks like he could ride me hard and put me away bow-legged.

  “Leo, I'm Fennel,” I say stupidly, extending my hand to him as he turns around.

  “Wow.” It's like he's seeing me for the first time. His eyes drift from my face down to my breasts in their Madonnaesque ensemble, over the curves of my stomach and hips. Almost the second he takes me in though, his gaze shoots back up to my face. I can't tell if he's repulsed by what he sees or trying to be polite. Whatever the case, it makes me feel incredibly self-conscious.

  “I hope you like it.” I put my hand on my hip, striking my best seductive pose. All I can think about is what it will feel like to have him take the garment off of me, and then I internally cringe. Judging by how hard it was for me to try to pull it off of myself, it might end up being a group effort. Not sexy at all. I should have gone with something a lot simpler, but it's too late for that now.

  “It's very...pretty,” the word sounds forced, which only drives my confidence down further. Could he possibly seem anymore disinterested in me than he does right now? I expected to be pounced on the second he walked through the door. He's acting like he'd rather retreat to a cave.

  “So, why the fake pic?” I decide to change the subject, slowly lowering myself onto the bed in the most poised sitting position I can manage.

  To add insult to injury, he takes a seat in the office chair in front of the small desk in the room, which feels like it's miles away. He couldn't put much more distance between us if he tried.

  “Do you do this often?” He looks at me with interest, completely diverting from the question.

  “No.” I shift my weight uncomfortably. The excitement of having such a stud muffin at my disposal is fading away the less sexual this encounter becomes. “This is my first time.”

  “You certainly don't look like it's your first time.” His eyes scan up and down my outfit again, and I finally see a lustful darkness overtake his expression, though he squashes it down the moment that he finds my face. I don't understand what's going on. Is he trying to make polite conversation? We so don't need to do this. I'm more than ready to jump on his disco stick and ride him until the sun comes up.

  “I mean, I'm not a virgin. But this is the first time I've ever hooked up with someone online.” I wrap my arms around myself, feeling more self-conscious by the minute. If I could crawl under the blankets and hide my body without seeming too bizarre, I would. “What
about you? Is this your first time?”