You would think that a guy like me has his shit together. I own and run a hugely successful chain of bars in one of the most competitive and oversaturated markets in the world. I live comfortably in one of the most expensive cities in the country—in Russian fucking Hill no less.

It’s no mistake I live this life. Everything I have is built on a bedrock of hard work, tenacity, and focus.

Yeah, I’m fucking proud of it. I have everything that I could ever want. At least, I should feel that way.

You would also think at this point I’d be past puppy-love crushes and ready to approach dating the way I approach everything else—like a rational, intelligent adult who fucking crushes everything I go after.

But every time I think about Emily, which is a lot, I feel like I’m in eighth grade all over again. My heart picks up pace, my stomach feels like it’s spinning, and I’m totally thrown off balance.

I mean, what the fuck? I’m a grown-ass man who can have anyone he wants with a snap of my fingers.

And then came Emily.

Two weeks, give or take a few days, is apparently all it takes for my sex-life-slash-love-life to go sideways in the best way possible.

The Bay Area attracts some of hottest women in the world. And in my line of work, I see plenty of them. Every fucking night.

You become numb to it after a while, and you learn to compartmentalize. Dating is dating, and work is separate. That’s one of those long–held, self-inflicted rules that I now realize is bullshit.

Emily walking into the bar—and my life—has forced me to tear down a lot of these restrictions and assumptions. It all happened so suddenly that I finally understand what all that Cupid’s arrow shit is all about.

The arrow pierces fast, starting in this case with the sting of pure testosterone-fueled lust. That feeling’s still there, weeks later.

Emily entering the bar like a golden-haired goddess, her sexy-as-fuck body, her honeyed voice and laugh—all combining to give my cock a hell of a time.

Like really, I can feel the blood rushing there now just thinking about her while I’m busy trying to choose a shirt from my closet.

Emily’s allure is proving to be the rare thing that can distract me during a busy night at the bar. Now it’s also taking me out of my daily life.

For fuck’s sake, if I can’t even focus on getting dressed, I know that this must be for real.

I usually can’t fucking stand getting diverted from my routine for any reason. But now, just the thought of the last couple weeks and what the future might bring is making me reconsider everything that came before Em.

I walk over to my bed and get the idea—for like the first time ever—to just lie down and think for a few minutes. I do plenty of thinking and rumination every day, but I never just idly stare at the ceiling. There’s too much to do for that shit.

But these thoughts need my full attention. Emily deserves my full attention.

I look back on the last few weeks with Emily. I got to know her and revealed more about myself than I even wanted. Very few of my customers, even regulars, know that I own the establishment where they always see me working.

Like, this girl just fucking does something to me that makes me act in ways I never have before.

My cock is now insanely hard. Like, ready to rip through the fabric of my boxer briefs kind of hard. Fuck, see what I mean?

This girl…

I mean, the time we’ve been spending with our clothes off, in my office, and at the W, and on this very bed. And here’s the kicker: I might sound crazy as fuck, but it’s not the mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex that’s on my mind as I wrap my fist around my cock.

Nope. I’m thinking about commitment. Yes, really.

To Emily, I’m still WineBar.

I’m Kirk, but also still WineBar. That’s her association with me—a dude who works at the wine bar. And it makes even more sense now that she knows I own the damn place.

I’m not special in this way she gives nicknames. There’s also Freeway.

Care to guess where she met him? Real romantic, I know.

But with a woman like Emily, there’s always some competition. Most of the time, competition means nothing to me. Because fuck that.

I can blow any competition right out of the fucking water, if that’s what I want. For me, it’s usually the easiest thing in the whole goddamn world.

The thing is, this isn’t my usual life anymore. Suddenly, I care, and that complicates things. I don’t know what to do with that.

Fucking? I’m your guy.

Relationships? Not so much.

Until her.

So here I am faced with what’s quickly becoming the usual for me these days—the need for a quick wank before I get on with my day. I won’t be good for anything until I get her out of my system, at least temporarily. I know this from experience.

But even before I take care of my cock that’s demanding attention, I need to figure out what to do next. We both effectively told Freeway to fuck off, and now I want to share everything with Emily.

That’s another first for me. I want to bring her in closer—as in I’m starting to think she could be the one. So much so that I want her to meet my family.

If things go the way I think they should, we’re going to have to meet each other’s families sooner or later anyway. Why not now?

I know people run from that shit like the fucking plague, but I want to introduce her to my parents.

Yeah, you heard me right. I’m now officially living in a world that’s been turned on its fucking head.

And still, I can’t get enough of her. It seems like Emily may feel hesitant about it, but I need to figure out how to take that step.

But first, I need to take care of this raging hard-on.

I grab my throbbing cock and pull it up out of the elastic of my boxer briefs. A mental vision of Emily’s smile that first night at the bar flashes through my head. Okay, that’s a decent start.

I wrap my fist tighter around my pulsing shaft.

It feels fucking amazing, and I delve right into some graphic memories. It doesn’t take long. Emily and her sexy little body do it for me every time.

I feel my balls tighten, and the tingle starts at the base of my spine. And then I’m cumming, shooting a massive load. Jet after jet of hot sticky cum goes everywhere as my cock throbs with the release.

“Fuck,” I groan. This girl has me so fucking horny I can barely function anymore.

As I make my way to the shower, I find myself saying the word before even thinking it: “Barbecue.”

Yeah, that’s right. This guy’s ready to do this thing.

It’s time to introduce Em to the family. And what better way than a good old-fashioned family barbecue? Nothing could possibly go wrong.