As I sit in a booth at the back of the restaurant, I wipe the sweat coating my palms down the front of my black slacks, doing my best not to run into the bathroom before my date gets here. If it were an ordinary day when my craving had taken over, I would deal with the problem myself. But after imaging my date’s tits all morning and the way her lips felt wrapped around my cock last night, I can wait a few seconds longer. I have a sickness. I am defenseless when it comes to satisfying my needs. The signs of my addiction are there. Any doctor could diagnosis me within minutes.

Most people assume I’m a drug addict or alcoholic, especially when my body begins to tremble from the hunger aching deep inside me. I ignore all the withdraw symptoms. All that matters at this moment is that the itch I need to scratch will soon go away, and I can continue with the rest of my day as if meeting strange women for quickies in public places is normal.

Why did I bother inviting her to a restaurant? It’s not like I plan to eat food.

Debating whether I should grab a drink and wait for her at the bar instead, I decide to stay put. The table is closer to the bathroom. She’s late, and I’m horny, both of which are not a good combination.

With five minutes to spare, the blonde bombshell walks through the door. She runs a hand through her long hair and scans the restaurant. It would be nice if I knew her name to call out to her. Not that I would need it, otherwise. Names are pointless when you don’t intend to use them.

I stand up with my hand raised and wave in her direction until her eyes flicker with acknowledgment. She strolls toward me with her head held high, and her breasts pushed out, showing off a huge rack that makes me hard just thinking about shoving my face between them. On some level, I feel shame for what we’re about to do, but I don’t give a shit. I have demons to feed. She must not care either, or why else would she have come back for more?

She sits across from me and flashes a bright smile. “Sorry, I’m late.”

I shrug against the booth as if I don’t care. But I do. I hate waiting, especially in times of extreme need. Beggars can’t be choosy, and right now, I have to take what I can get. “Don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes, sir,” she hisses.

My dick twitches at her words.

She picks up the menu and glances at it for a few seconds before her gaze meets mine.

“What do you feel like eating?”

I stare at her, like an animal stalking its prey, waiting to sink its teeth. “You,” I growl, keeping my voice low.

Blushing ten shades of red, she laughs and covers her mouth with her hand. “You’re cute.”

“I’m serious.” I move my head in the direction of the bathroom behind me and she catches on. “Meet me in a few minutes, and try not to make it obvious.”

I get up from the table and walk into the restroom, knowing she will join me. The door swings open two minutes later.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she says. “I never do stuff like this.”

I try not to laugh in her face. No man ever believes that line when a woman says she has never done this before. “Uh-huh,” I mutter, sliding my hands onto her hips. “So, last night was an accident. You just stumbled into The Circle as if you had found it by chance. I don’t think so. We both know that’s a lie.”

The Circle has a waiting list of willing women and rich men who are dying to gain access. My membership has been in my family for decades, passed down from one generation to the next.

“You know, if we’re going to make this a regular thing, can I at least know your name?”

I shake my head no in answer and push her up against the wall. She presses her palms to the painted cinderblock and lifts her ass up in offering to me. She wants this cheap fuck in a restaurant bathroom just as much as me. No attachments, that’s my motto.

The last time I allowed a woman to get too close, she left me with a gaping hole in my chest. All I care about is the here and now. Right now, I want to fuck this girl and be on my way, not see if she has what it takes to become my girlfriend.

“Spread your legs,” I command, my voice coming off like a growl. “Wider,” I instruct, watching as she separates her thighs for me. The tight dress bunches up around her hips.

My dick throbs in anticipation of being inside her. Reaching for the lock with one hand, I unzip my pants with the other just as someone barges into the bathroom. It catches me off guard. My shoulder crashes into the wall, the pain shooting down my arm.

I grab my shoulder and turn around. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck is right,” a woman hisses, as she steps inside and slams the doors shut.

Her voice takes me by surprise, causing an instant aching inside my chest. Nervous to make eye contact with Scarlett O’Brien, I let out a frustrated sigh. Once our eyes meet, her gaze travels from my booty call to me with her teeth clenched in anger.

“Aiden, why am I not surprised to see you here with a woman? It’s like college all over again.”

I laugh, even though sharing the same space as Scarlett hurts. It’s how I hide the pain of losing her.

My God, I have missed Scarlett.

“Because you know me too well.”

She points her finger at me, a chunk of blonde hair falling in front of her blue eyes. Before she can get out another word, I interrupt her train of thought.

I turn to the girl next to me and say, “You should go.”

“But…” Her words die off in her throat once she realizes nothing is going to happen between us now that Scarlett is here to fuck up my orgasm.

I dismiss my booty call with the wave of my hand. My focus remains on Scarlett, and the girl exits without another word. Scarlett is the reason I have gotten worse over the years. It’s as if somewhere deep down inside I imagine every woman is Scarlett. Because I do. They’re all nameless women for a reason.

Now that Scarlett is here, shooting daggers in my direction, I want to grab her face in my hands and kiss her, despite all the anger I feel for her. She made me choose between an embarrassing treatment program and a relationship with her. It wasn’t fair for her to make the two contingent upon each other. She cornered me with her proposition, hitting me with too much information at once. Because of that, I couldn’t make a decision. So, I let her walk away—like an idiot.

I never thought I would see her again. After years of debating if I should go after Scarlett, she finds me at my lowest point, in a moment of weakness, and of all places, inside a bathroom.

My stomach tightens along with the rest of my insides, tugging at my heart. “Scarlett,” I whisper, still in disbelief that she’s here.

She throws her hands on her hips and scans my face. “I wish I could say it’s nice to see you, but I’m not so sure about that. You still have a problem I see.”

“As I told you five years ago, I don’t have a problem.”

“You do.” Scarlett reaches into her purse to retrieve a business card and hands it to me. “If you ever want help with your addiction, give me a call.”

“How about I buy you dinner first,” I counter, moving closer to her.

Scarlett backs away from me, still holding my gaze, and opens the door. “Make an appointment. You need professional help, Aiden.”

Before I can respond, she slips through the opening and into the crowded restaurant. I glance at her card and smile. She’s done well for herself, with an office space located in the center of the city that costs a pretty penny. And she’s only two blocks away from my office. Maybe I will make that appointment after all.