"I think they like you."

I watch her jump as she walks past me in the parking lot. I came out here for some fresh air and a couple shots of bourbon. I figured I'd make myself scarce and let Stephany make a break for it before my family suggested we take a fucking moonlight walk on the beach or some shit.

I know I was a jerk during dinner, I just hope she takes the hint and calls this thing off. There's no hope for me, one way or another, I have to find a wife. Stephany doesn't need to get caught up in my mess though. The biggest favor I can do for her is treat her like shit and convince her to move on.

I'm sitting on the curb, smoking a damn cigarette that I bummed off the bartender. I don't even smoke but fuck, after the worst date of my life with the hottest woman I've ever seen-- a smoke sounded like a good way to calm the fuck down.

Her shoulders almost hit the little silver hoops hanging from her ears when she hears my voice.

"I thought you escaped," she tells me with unrestrained sarcasm in her voice.

I can't help but notice that my short laugh sounds bitter.

Stephany gets a little closer, still standing just out of reach. If I really wanted to grab her she wouldn't be able to get away before I had a hold of her. I don't know if she knows that or not though, and I have no intention of grabbing her so what the hell.

I look up at her from where I'm sitting damn near on the ground. If she'd come a little closer I'd be able to see up that skirt she's wearing. It's short, damn short, but it's not tight. It's one of those flowy things and if she turned around fast enough it'd flare out and show me what she's got on under it.

Part of me wonders what it would take to get her to spin on her heels and give me that shot. Part of me wants to make sure she never leaves.

Her long legs move a foot closer to me. The heels of her strappy little sandals making a clicking noise against the pavement.

I still can't see up that skirt, but I can see the shape of her legs. The way her calves are toned as they narrow at her knee and then the way her thighs flare as they disappear under the hem of that little skirt. I get a real good idea of where those thighs go. I picture the way they join at the hinge of her hips and the way her ass is round and soft.

Maybe I'm interested in grabbing her after all. I could catch her behind the knees right now and pull her onto my lap, forcing her to straddle me.

The scene plays out in my head, the sound she'd make when I first touch her-- that little gasp of shock and refusal as I pull her knees apart and her body falls onto mine.

My dick jumps to attention behind my zipper and I shift positions on the curb so the fucker has room.

"They came all the way out here to meet my new wife," I look up at her and jerk my head back toward the restaurant, "I figured I'd give them some time alone with you so they can tell you all my secrets."

"I don't think there's any danger of me being your wife at this point."

My fiance sounds pretty bitter as she spits the words down at me, but those legs move one more step toward me.

Now she's standing right over me. I turn my head to look up at her face, but I let my eyes take their time getting there. I let my gaze slide up her legs, real slow, like I'm thinking I'd like to do with my hands.

I get a glimpse of what's under the skirt, the slightest flash of a pale lace triangle covering a nicely shaped mound so smooth I wonder if she's got any hair there at all. She's not wearing nylons. It's like women in California have never heard of pantyhose-- can't say I miss em.

From where I'm sitting on the ground I can't see how perky her tits are, but I remember them from my first good look at her earlier.

By the time I get up to her face, my eyes on hers, my dick's so hard I could hammer nails with it.

"You're probably right about that," I give her a lopsided smirk.

"Are you drunk?"

I flat out laugh at her. She sounds so fucking shocked to see me take a swig from the flask I had stashed in my inside pocket just in case.

"I fucking wish," I tell her honestly, "here," I raise my hand up and offer her the bourbon.

"There's not even supposed to be alcohol at the first meeting."

Damn if she doesn't sound genuinely disappointed, shaking her head in refusal of my offer and making her dark hair dance around her shoulders.

I get to my feet slowly until I'm standing in front of her. Now it's my turn to look down at her and fuck if she isn't just as interesting from this angle. Although I can't see those panties anymore. Her head comes up about even with my throat and I can't help but think that she could be licking my nipples without having to bend over.

She's welcome to bend over though. Bend over and lick anything she wants.

"You always play by the rules?" I crush the cigarette under the hell of my shoe. I wasn't smoking it anyway.

I'm crowding her space on purpose, standing so close that her tits almost touch my chest and I like watching her fight the urge to take a step back. I like that she's fighting it. I can see her chest rising and falling as her breathing picks up and she looks nervous with me hovering over her like this, but she stands her ground.

"When they make sense I do," she tells me in a little voice that sounds like she's on edge about something. I can't help but think I'd like to put her on the edge of something-- a table, a countertop, a soul shattering orgasm.

She looks up at me and fixes me in those eyes. Out here in the dark I can't make out the color, but inside the restaurant I could see the bright hazel just fine. The kind of eyes that she probably thinks are just brown, but they're really an amazing warm caramel color with a touch of fire that lights them up when she's all worked up over something.

Now she's looking up at me with her head tilted back because I'm standing too close for her to make eye contact with me otherwise. And she isn't shy about making eye contact either. That just gets my dick harder, thinking about how much I'd like to get her worked up and see that fire in her eyes while she's looking at me.

Not like she is now, her delicate little jaw set in a hard line as she glares at me.

Uh uh, not like this. I want to see her undone. Her lashes fluttering over those pretty eyes and that pouty mouth swollen from hard kissing and sucking my cock as she pants my name-- fuck.

This chick is smart and she's gorgeous and she deserves a lot better than the likes of me. She sure as hell deserves to marry into something better than the raw deal I'm offering.

I'd like to give her a raw deal, all right, I think as I stare at those lips.

As forced marriages go, I could do a lot worse than this little firecracker. I sure as hell wouldn't mind sinking my cock into any one of her holes. I'd like to make her stop looking at me like she is right now too. Like I'm a total asshole. Like I'm not what she's looking for.

Maybe I am an asshole, maybe I'm not what she's looking for but I could prove to her that I'm what she needs.

That's a thought I can't keep hold of. This woman needs to run as far away from me as she can, and if she doesn't do it soon I might not let her get away.

I leer down at her, making no effort to conceal the filth that's going through my head while I put the flask to my lips again, "rules are made to be broken, Babydoll," I tell her.

The woman standing in front of me with sheer disgust written on her face is looking for the sort of happily ever after that looks good in a handmade frame from a Pinterest board. Instead, she got me. She doesn't know shit about me or why I'm in this boat and she deserves better.

So instead of acting like a decent fucking human being and telling her the truth, I do exactly what I want to. And since it's the only chance I'm going to get before she's gone forever, I make it good.