First Chapter Friday: The Blind Date Diaries

Chapter 1 – Angeline

It’s been eight months and two days since I’ve had sex. Not that I’m counting, but if you give me a minute I could probably narrow it down to the hour. It’s been that kind of dry spell.

And sure, for about seven months and six days I didn’t mind. I didn’t even really notice because I was nursing a broken heart/wounded ego. That will happen when you find sexts on your fiancé’s phone to someone named Rachel. Problematic because my name is Angeline and we were fucking engaged. No, I wasn’t snooping. Eli asked me to grab his phone from the coffee table where he left it and there they were on the screen. I’ll spare you the gory details. Let’s just say, a shit show ensued, ending with me leaving Manhattan and moving back “home” to upstate New York with my father so I could pay off my debt. Yes, rent-free living is A-MAZING. But honestly, what self-respecting thirty-two-year-old woman moves back in with her father without taking a serious blow to her pride? Not this one.

So the fact that my sex drive had all but parked? Not exactly a shocker. But sometime in the past few weeks, my libido has woken up again and I’ve been climbing out of my skin with need, want, lust – whatever you call it when you’re horny as hell and don’t even have a booty call in your contact list.

Which is still a pretty poor excuse for the fact that I’m teetering on the edge of hooking up with Jack Reese tonight. Because not only is he flirting hard, he is damn hot. And yes, that is the vodka talking because no way in hell would I admit it otherwise. If this place had a decent wine selection, I wouldn’t be admitting it either. I can hold my Shiraz with the best of them. Vodka, not so much.

“Are you sure you want to encourage him?” My best friend and self-professed work wife, Melissa, tugs on the hem of my tank top as Jack goes to the bar to get me another drink. “I didn’t even think you liked him very much.”

“I don’t have to like him to want him.” In fact, it’s easier that way. I tip the last of my vodka tonic into my mouth.

“You know, lots of people have a vibrator for this kind of thing.” Melissa’s mouth twists in a half-smile. “If you’re too embarrassed to buy one yourself, I can get you one because that’s the kind of friend I am.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve been wearing out my damn vibrator the past few weeks. I just need the real deal once and I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know. What if you have Jack and you can never go back?” Melissa barks out a laugh. “It’s possible, you know.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

Although an hour later when Jack’s tongue is scraping along my collarbone, well… my vibrator doesn’t do that, that’s for sure. I’m pressed up against the counter in his kitchen and already writhing, my hands fisting his T-shirt. There’s no AC in here and his skin is hot through the thin cotton, but when I try to lift it, he grabs my wrist.

“Patience, sweetheart.” He sucks gently at the skin behind my ear, making me gasp.

“I don’t want to be patient.” I wrench my hand free. “Patience is for round two.”

Jack’s chuckle rumbles through his chest. “Is that so?”

“Unless you’re a one and done type of guy?” I raise my eyebrows. “But I would have thought you’re better than that.”

“You would have thought right.” Jack spins me around so my ass is pressed against him. He hikes my skirt up in one smooth motion and slips a finger inside my panties, letting it slide along my slick center. It’s all I can do not to come on the spot.

“It’s been a long time. I’m not sure you want to do too much of that.” My words come out breathless and I moan as Jack slips one finger inside, then two. Holy. Shit. I grip the counter like it’s a lifeboat and I’m about to drown.

“Are you wet because you want me or because it’s been a long time?” Jack’s voice is a low growl in my ear.

“Does it matter?”

Jack doesn’t answer, just thrusts his fingers into me again, while circling my clit with his thumb. I gasp and he increases the pressure of his thumb. Part of me doesn’t want to come this way – I came here for sex, dammit – but the other part of me is so eager, so ready, that if he doesn’t stop in the next ten seconds, I’m going to…

“Christ, Jack. I told you I can’t hold on.” I squeeze my eyes shut as I ride the beginning of the wave.

“No one’s asking you to, sweetheart.” Jack’s other hand moves up to my breast and pinches my nipple. And I come against his hand so hard it’s a wonder I don’t black out. As it is, I’m grateful his arm is still wrapped around me because even my arms are shaky gripping the countertop.

It’s three deep breaths before I extricate myself from Jack’s grasp and turn to face him. “Wow, that was um…wow.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” One corner of Jack’s mouth is turned up, but he doesn’t look amused. Everyone says he looks like Henry Cavill, and I admit, I see it. But I see it a lot more when he keeps his mouth shut. Because when he speaks, he’s pure Jack. Case in point? “Was it me you wanted, sweetheart? Or was I the most viable option?”

“You say that like we’re finished.” I raise my eyebrows.

“We might be.” Jack’s eyes narrow. Not a lot, but enough so I notice.

“Leaving yourself high and dry?” I glance down at the obvious tent in his shorts. “I didn’t think that was your style.”

“I don’t usually fuck where I eat.” Jack pauses, but not long enough for me to say anything. “But you seemed desperate.”

“Asshole.” Heat rises in my face, a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

“Hey, no judgment.” Jack takes a step back and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I mean, we all have needs, right?”

“My God…” I stop because I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. My God, I can’t believe I just let you finger fuck me? My God, I can’t believe I forgot who you actually are? And I let you finger fuck me? My God, I have to see you tomorrow– and every day for at least the next couple of weeks – and I let you finger fuck me?

I don’t think I’ve said any of those things out loud, but I can’t be sure because the next words out of Jack’s mouth are, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. This can be our little secret.”

“You know what? I have to go.” I reach for my bag on the counter and dig for my phone. “Let me call an Uber and I’ll be out of here.”

“I can take you home, Angeline.” Jack’s tone softens.

“No. You can’t.” I don’t even remind Jack that we took an Uber here because we’d both been drinking. The truth is, he didn’t have more than one – maybe two max – and for all I know his car is right outside and he’s perfectly capable of driving it. I just grab my phone and open the app, keeping my eyes on the screen. It takes almost a minute for me to get a car because I fumble on the screen, but finally I book a driver – six minutes away – and look up at Jack’s shoulder. “Done. I’ll wait outside.”

“Ang--” Jack starts then stops just as quickly. “You know what? If that’s what you want, fine.”

“I’ll see myself out.” I pull my bag onto my shoulder and make myself meet his eyes. “I’m not embarrassed about this, Jack. That said, I would appreciate keeping this just between us.”

And Melissa because she knows I left the bar with Jack, but we live by the Girl Code.

“Who do you think I’m going to tell, sweetheart?” Jack raises an eyebrow at me.

“Guys at the office?” I swallow hard because I have to make myself say it so it’s out there. On the record. “My boss?”

“Do you really think I’m going to tell my mother I finger banged you in my kitchen tonight?” Jack doesn’t roll his eyes, but it’s implied. “If I didn’t tell her about Karen Kline putting her hands down my pants in the back of the bus in seventh grade, I’m sure as hell not going to tell her about this.”

“I know. I just…” I stutter because I can’t help it. I need my job as managing editor of Pink magazine and I need Victoria Buchanan (formerly Reese) to believe I’m cool and competent and in control. Pretty much exactly the opposite of how I’ve acted tonight. “This was a mistake and I don’t want it to hurt me professionally.”

“Like I said, it can be our little secret.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” I let out a long breath because judging by the look on Jack’s face he means it.

“Always glad to be of service.” Jack pauses. “Sweetheart.”

God, I hate that tone. Ass hat.

I cross the kitchen and yank open the door leading to the stairs, letting my heels pound on the wooden steps as I clunk down them. Every step reverberates in my head and by the time I’ve reached the sidewalk in front of Jack’s house, all the endorphins from my earlier orgasm have vanished.

It wasn’t worth it. I let my body overrule my head and made the worst possible choice. The only worse one would be if I’d propositioned Victoria herself. Instead I picked her son – and now I’m going to have to trust that he’s not going to make me look like a fool at the office. The sole saving grace is that we don’t actually work together. He’s a carpenter and is building display cases for the lobby area. It’s not even like we need to speak to each other.

Yet, as I step into my Uber when it arrives, I glance up at the window and see Jack standing there. Watching me get in the car. And even though I think he’s doing it to make sure I don’t get mugged standing outside alone – fat chance because East Rochester is not a hotbed of criminal activity – my heart sinks. The reality is, I’m going to see him. Even if he wasn’t doing a project at Pink, he’s my boss’s only son. He’s generally around.

And my body, traitor that it is, will remember what happened tonight – and what didn’t. It’s going to wonder what it would have been like if that hard cock I felt pressed up against me ended up inside of me. No matter how much my head tells me I need to forget.