Page 53 of The Perfect Wrong

Tonight, after busting as much ass as I do, I’ll play the only way I like.

Hard.

* * *

The loud,half-smashed blond chick keeps falling off my lap in a corner booth, giggling every time I pull away from her with poorly concealed disgust.

What is my malfunction tonight?

I’m not sure why I don’t have my hand up her skirt yet.

I’m even more baffled why I can’t get hard.

She’s a beach girl—Laura or Layna or something—young and bubbly and entirely forgettable, but that’s never stopped me before. She likes her martinis double strength and her men rock hard.

The average red-blooded man would call her dressed to kill.

Too short, glaringly bright sundress, bleached highlights in her hair, fake tits, and a laugh that sounds like a strangled hyena.

She’s supposed to be the perfect hookup.

But with every passing second, my interest wanes. There’s another woman glued to my brain.

Delia, goddammit it.

The contrast between them is brutal.

Having this bubbly skank coiled around my neck reminds me how rare it is to find a girl in this town who’s not just trolling for tonight’s dick or her trophy husband.

“Baby, what’sa matter?” she slurs, stopping to push a desperate kiss into my throat. “You act like you got a major case of jet lag! I thought you said you’ve been here for a while? Talk to me!”

I force a thin, fake smile, running my fingers up her arm.

They feel numb, even when I sense her goosebumps, moving up to her neck and grabbing a fistful of her hair with a firm tug.

“You’re not my shrink. You want another drink or what?”

I’m trying so fucking hard to make this work.

The fact that I have totrymakes this feel like the dating equivalent of yanking a stubborn mower that won’t start.

Miss Whatever gives me a moony stare, knowing I’m asking if she wants to blow out of here.

Her skin feels warm and dry, almost leathery, probably from too much sun.

Fuck this.

My mind wanders again.

Soon, my dick jerks—only because I’m remembering Delia’s soft thighs, the sound she made when she exploded, her sweet pussy going off on my hands.

Laura or Layna or whatever the fuck tries to kiss me.

For someone so bright, her lips feel like ash.

What evil spirit did I piss off to make a perfectly good-looking chick taste like cyanide?

The moan she spills against my mouth says she’s already in seventh heaven.