Page 44 of Risk

I hang up and stuff my cell back in my pocket before he can finish that goddamn sentence.

Two hours later, I board my flight and take off for Cali. Once I’m in the air, I open a particular text thread and type, “You ever just want to get a new identity, pack your shit, and disappear forever?”

Their response comes through seconds later: Every damn day.

Resting my head against the window, I close my eyes. I hate my life. I hate my obligations. I hate that I’m leaving a city I love. And I especially hate that the first time I find a woman I really fucking like, she ghosts me and still I vie for her attention.

A flight attendant brings me a glass of champagne and offers an inviting smile. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Finch. Anything I can do to make your flight more enjoyable…” She licks her lips seductively, “just press the call button.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” That goes for the drink and whatever else she’s attempting to offer.

Only one woman occupies my thoughts and she’s a mile below me now, getting further and further away from my grip.

Chapter 15

Leah

Ever since Mason vanished on the street, I’ve been going a little crazy. The harder I try to not think of him, the more he fills my head. My pussy is in a constant state of neediness. It doesn’t help that the past two days have been slow as hell with work, and I haven’t had a lot of desire to go online as Daisy Ren or make new content.

A reset is in order. Whenever I’m in a funk, a long hot bath with all the goodies usually does the trick. Lighting a dozen candles around the rim, I drop a bath bomb in the hot water and start my little attachable jet that’s clamped to the side. It smells so good in here already.

What should I play for entertainment? A podcast? Music? An audiobook?

I go with meditation songs because I think anything else will give me a headache or set my sex drive on full-throttle again and I don’t want that.

The cut on my hand has healed fast. I feel like a big baby for making such a fuss about it the other day. It really wasn’t worth all that attention and care. Images of Mason’s worried face fill my mind—how he got all freaked out and ran for help when it first happened, the way he carefully redressed my bandage, the way he kissed it better.

The way he kisses my mouth… my pussy.

How he sucks on my clit.

Oh my god, I’m the worst. Why do I keep fixating on him?

I need to get this man out of my system.

But the thought of sleeping with someone else makes me queasy. Going live on camera and flirting with strangers doesn’t sound good either. Damn Mason and his confidence, sweetness, and big dick. Especially his big dick.

And his mouth.

Sweet mother of God, no human should have a tongue like his. It’s insane. And what he does with it? Unacceptable behavior.

I want him to eat me out again.

Fuck that, I want him to tongue fuck all my holes.

“Damnit Leah, get a fucking grip!” The back of my head smacks the inflatable pillow and knocks one of the suction cups loose. Every time I press it back against the tub, it pops off again because the suction cups are too wet. “Stick, damn you! STICK!” I try three more times. “You know what? Fuck this.”

Fuck that pillow. Fuck this bathtub. Fuck the bubbles and candles and meditation.

I can’t get out of this thing fast enough. Stomping my feet on the rug, I snag a towel and wrap it around my chest before marching over to my phone. Fury has me plucking that stupid business card out of the back of my cell and I hate-punch the numbers in. The phone rings six times and goes to voicemail.

“You’ve reached Mason Finch. You know what to do.”

At the sound of the beep, my fury explodes. “No, you asshole, I don’t know what to do. You’ve got me all fucked up and I hate it. My bath is ruined. I can’t even enjoy the one thing that’s always been my favorite because you… you just had to make everything different and now I can’t think straight, and my stupid suction cup won’t even work on my pillow!”

I hang up, storming into my bedroom next. I need to take the edge off. Instead of Mason giving me the best Os of my life and satiating me, he’s turned me into a sex monster. I want him again. Badly.

I’ve never been so frustrated in my fucking life.