Sofie
“You dirty little slut,” Chloe says as I walk through the door.
Okay. I'll admit it. I look the part.
My hair has all the fuck-me volume a girl could dream of. My mascara is smudged. I'm still wearing last night's dress, plus Eli's suit jacket thrown over my shoulders for warmth. I'm carrying my heels.
And while I don't smell like my sexy perfume anymore, I do smell like three different types of expensive cologne.
Plus, well, I fucked three smoking hot men last night. But sluttiness is in the eye of the beholder, right?
And to my credit, at least my dates aren't passed out facedown in our living room at 8AM. Chloe, on the other hand, can't say the same.
“Pot, kettle,” I say, taking in the scene.
There's an ornamental boy toy still half-dressed in tailored Versace drooling on our rug. Chloe, wearing her sluttiest red lingerie and having her morning coffee, is currently using him as a footrest.
“Mm. Fair,” Chloe admits. “But at least I have the dignity to air my dirty laundry out where you can see it. You, on the other hand…”
I laugh and am immediately surprised at how tired I sound. Oliver, Lucas, and Eli have left me…let's face it: pretty fucking exhausted.
“Not before I get some coffee in me,” I say, tiptoeing to the kitchen.
Chloe has generously made enough for two. I pour what's left of the pot into the biggest mug we have, blow the steam off of it and take a sip.
“Holy shit, Chloe,” I say, spitting it back out into the mug. “This coffee is a war crime.”
Chloe looks down at her mug with benign disappointment. “Yeah, it really is. Hey. Johnny Bigbucks,” she says, nudging the man on the rug with her big toe. “Wake up.”
“Bwuh?” the man says, blinking himself conscious.
“We want coffee. Be a good boy, pop down to the Starbucks across the street, and fetch us some, okay?”
“Oh, baby. I love when you're bossy.”
Grinning lazily, the man picks himself off the rug and, noticing me in the kitchen, has the courtesy to tuck back in his pants. As I catch a glimpse of the dick that Chloe definitely conquered last night, I can't help it.
I'm smug.
It's not that Johnny Bigbucks isn't packing or anything.
It's just that Lucas, Eli, and Oliver were all way, way bigger.
“Johnny Bigbucks, huh?” I tease.
Chloe shrugs. “He’s some kind of Wall Street wunderkind. Didn’t catch his real name so I made one up.” She smiles her most evil, entitled rich girl grin. “He likes when I’m bossy.”
As Chloe and Johnny Bigbucks do a sweep of the apartment in search for his missing shoe, I have a chance to collect myself for what feels like the first time since I showed up at the restaurant last night.
Since then, I've been wined. I've been dined. I've been pseudo-stalked by a psycho ex.
I've been tasted, showered in cum—some of which is still between my tits—and stuffed so full of gorgeous 12-inch cocks that it should probably illegal (but thank fuck it isn't).
“So which one of the four did you fuck?” Chloe asks, leaning on the island as her date trots out the door.
I purse my lips together, saying nothing as I become deeply involved in dumping Chloe's terrible coffee down the sink.
“Oh my god. Sofie, you whore!”
“Gosh, Chloe. That cuts me deep.”
“Yeah? I bet not as deep as four dicks at once, huh? You filthy little minx!”
“Three,” I correct her. I'm trying to keep my self-satisfied smile off my face, but I'm failing.
Chloe's mouth hangs open in delighted shock. “Oh my god. One of your buyers was a woman.”
“Nope,” I grin. “I hate to let you down, but my supposed five-way was only a four-way.”
Chloe narrows her eyes at me. “You fucked your way out of losing our bet.”
“I did,” I admit, rinsing my coffee mug out in the sink. “And I enjoyed every minute of it.”
“No fucking way. I need details, woman!”
“You need a lobotomy,” I say, picking up two empty cans of Red Bull. “Is this what you made that coffee with?”
Chloe shrugs, taking the cans from me and throwing them in the recycling bin. “It was a long night. Although…apparently not as long as yours was. So fucking spill already. Now that you've sampled all the flavors, which one are you going to choose?”
“Huh?” If you ask me, Chloe obviously drank too much of her own god-awful caffeine concoction. “There's no choosing, Chloe. I had…” I sigh, searching for the right words. “A fucking awesome night,” I say finally. “But it was a one shot kind of deal.”
“More like three shots.” Chloe winks.
“More like nine.” I wink back. “Wait—shit. Twelve. We went again this morning.”
“Holy fuck.”
“You’re telling me.” I lean back against the counter, drying my coffee mug with a tea towel. “Let’s just say they got their money’s worth. And then some. We all had a good time, and I'm really glad I went through with it. But they’re billionaires, Chloe. And they manage the company I work for.”
“Sketchy.”
“Yeah,” I cringe. “So, you know. I'm probably not going to hear from any of them again.”
That sends a little pang of ache shooting through my heart. I really did enjoy my time with Elijah, Lucas, and Oliver last night. Not just the physical parts, either.
They were confident. Charming. And fuck, even if it was only to get me into bed with them—a very real possibility that I'm not ruling out just yet—they made me feel beautiful.
Safe. Cared for.
As far as one night stands go? I've definitely had worse.
“At least I had a magical evening,” I sigh, putting away the clean mug.
“What about the fourth dude?” Chloe asks, handing me her own coffee cup with a smile.
I roll my eyes as I turn back to the sink.
“You won't believe me if I tell you.”
“It was a woman, wasn't it?!”
“Nope.”
“Big Foot?”
“You're getting warmer.”
“Oh, fuck,” Chloe gasps as the worst possibility comes to her mind. “It wasn’t—”
“Greg?” I finish, scrubbing Red Bull and coffee grinds out of the bottom of Chloe's cup. “Yep. Slimy, skeevy and in the flesh.”
“Nooooooo!” Chloe moans dramatically. “I told you we should have gotten a restraining order!”
“And you were probably right,” I admit. “The little shit used the auction to buy time with me. Not that it worked out for him.”
“Ooh,” Chloe coos. “Did you kick him in the nuts when he showed up?”
“I didn't have to. He showed up sneering and sliming around, talking about how he had rented me like a car at the airport. So my other dates—Oliver, Elijah, and Lucas—had him thrown out.”
“Fuck. Even their names are sexy. So that was the end of it?”
“Well…”
“Babe. DETAILS!”
I hand Chloe her mug and the towel. Begrudgingly, she starts to dry it.
“Lucas has connections in the restaurant industry here, I guess. Greg's going to have a hard time getting a reservation in Manhattan after that.”
“That's too fucking good,” Chloe laughs. “With all of his 'Cooking is for poor people, Sofie,' bullshit? His foodie ass is going to starve.”
“That's the plan.”
I'm still really grateful for Eli, Luke, and Oliver for taking care of that little situation for me, I realize. A lot of guys wouldn't have said anything. Especially not for some woman they barely know.
But as far as dates go, Elijah, Lucas, and Oliver went above and beyond last night. In more ways than one. From the minute they first saw me, right up until this morning when they were putting me in Oliver's limo and kissing me goodbye.
“But Sof...” Chloe says, biting her lip with concern. “Fostering Angels will have to refund Greg's donation now. You know he'll raise a stink about not getting what he paid for.”
She hands me the mug back to put away and I nearly fucking drop it.
“Shit,” I swear. “I was so busy—”
“Getting busy,” Chloe supplies.
“Right. Like, fuck. I didn't even think of that.”
“Aw, babe. Come here.” Chloe wraps her tan arms around me and pulls me in for a hug. Chloe gives great hugs—nice, tight, and warm. “Come on. I know exactly what will cheer you up. Let's go to O-Town.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Chloe, not to brag, but I think I orgasmed enough times last night for all of Manhattan.”
“Pfft. No! The bakery downstairs. This calls for cupcakes!”
I cave. Nothing cheers me up like a chocolate caramel O-Town cupcake. Let's just say the place is aptly named.
We're just pulling on fresh clothes and making for the door when Chloe's date returns with our Starbucks.
“Two grande pumpkin spice lattes for the lovely ladies,” he says, triumphant.
We both grab one as we head out the door.
“Thanks, babe! Gotta run!” Chloe says, giving him a peck on the cheek.
“Hey! Wait—what am I supposed to do while you're gone?”
“Clean the bathroom, for starters,” Chloe shouts over her shoulder as the warm taste of pumpkin, cinnamon and coffee slows over my tongue. Giggling, she adds under her breath. “He loves when I'm bossy.”
“I love when you're bossy!” Chloe's date shouts after us.
We laugh at that all the way to O-Town.