This guy asks me out, and then bails mid-conversation? Who does that? Well, awesome. Now I’m horny and even more irritated. Not a good combination for me. I log off Ignite and close my laptop. Just as I’m about to head to my bedroom to handle business, my phone beeps somewhere in my apartment.

Shit. Where did I put it?

I look around the kitchen, scanning the countertop and even looking behind my electrical appliances. I’m one to toss my phone just about anywhere and completely forget about it. When I come up with nothing, I move to the couch and stick my hand between the sofa cushions. Nothing. It beeps again, coming from the direction of the kitchen that I just ruled out. And then I remember grabbing a water bottle just before Mia arrived. I open the fridge, and sitting on the shelf next to the milk is my phone.

Really, Tessa?

I look at my screen and see a text message from a number I don’t recognize.

Unknown: Hey, it’s Tyler. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t give me a fake number. I’ve had that happen.

I lick my lips and walk over to the couch, plopping down with my head at one end and my feet at the other. I type my response with a nervous energy after I add his number to my contacts list.

Me: I wouldn’t fake number you. Unless you told me you liked to fuck animals or something weird.

Tyler: Jesus Christ. You’re something else. I prefer to fuck women, so I think you can rest easy there. Listen, I’ve had some shitty experiences on Ignite. People aren’t always honest, and a lot of them use photos that are either not really who they are or are so old that they don’t even resemble that person anymore. I’m not trying to be a dick, but do you think you could take a picture of yourself and text it to me? I’ll do the same.

Hmm. I guess he has a point. I hadn’t even considered the possibility of him not looking like his profile picture. But I guess it’s possible. I hold my phone above me and take a picture, liking the flirty smile I give him, and attach it to my message.

Me: Here you go. Is this proof enough?

My phone beeps with a file attachment and I open it. He’s smiling, his shaggy blond hair hanging in his eyes, and it’s definitely the guy in his profile picture. Thank fucking God.

Tyler: Christ, you are crazy beautiful. Are you lying on your couch?

Me: Yes.

Tyler: This is what it would look like if I were hovering over you. Do you have any idea how fucking hot this picture is?

Holy shit. Is this guy trying to sext with me? I am totally down for that if he is. This is way better than getting off on a guy I don’t want to think about.

Me: Tell me.

I grip my phone in my left hand and slip my right down the front of my shorts. Wetness coats my fingers.

Tyler: You want to know how hard your picture made me? How thick my cock feels right now in my hand?

Holy shit. Yes. Please.

It takes a great effort to type with just the thumb of my left hand, but I manage. There’s no way in hell I’m stopping now.

Me: Yes. I was going to get off anyway. Might as well do it with you.

I moan as my finger slides over my clit.

Tyler: You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you? Wanting a stranger to get you off. Touch yourself like I would. Rub your clit with your thumb and put two fingers inside that pussy I want to fuck.

“Oh God, yes.”

Tyler: Are you doing it?

Me: Yes. Please keep going.

This isn’t going to take long. Not with this apparent master of sexting. I stare at his words and read them over and over while I feel myself tightening around my fingers.

Tyler: Do you feel how wet I make you? Spread those legs for me. Finger yourself deep and pretend it’s my cock.

I nearly drop my phone as I arch off the couch and do as he commands. It's only his face in my head. His fingers in my pussy. And his words getting me to the edge.

Tyler: I want to feel you come. On my hand. On my dick. In my mouth. Do it. Come all over those fingers and suck on them like I would.

“Tyler,” I whisper as I come hard, my legs shaking as they fall open even wider. And I do it. I slip my fingers into my mouth as if he were here with me. Demanding it. Needing it.

This is the hottest solo session I’ve ever had.

Me: Wow. You’re going to be fun next weekend.

Tyler: That was fucking hot. I can’t wait to actually watch your beautiful face when you come for me. Gotta go clean myself up. Thanks for that.

I slap my hand over my mouth and squeal. He came with me. The thought of him jerking off hadn’t even entered my mind. But now, it’s all I can think about. He got off on the idea of me touching myself. How fucking hot is that? Now I have a new face to occupy my fantasies, and a chat that I can save for later use.

Luke Evans, you’re no longer needed.

Tessa Kelly is a man-eater.

She’s like medusa, but without the whole “freezing to stone” bit. Because that’s not her style. That’s not painful enough for her. She’d much rather draw you in with her blinding beauty, and then rip your heart out and eat it in front of you. And then she’ll stand over you and watch you slowly die at her feet.

Cold.

Heartless.

Fucking ruthless.

This should be enough to make me not want her. To make me not think about her every second of the fucking day. And if her Queen Bitch attitude wasn’t enough of a reason to hate her, the fact that she destroyed me a year ago should be. But there’s one major problem.

I have a cock.

And he wants Tessa. He knows what it’s like to be with her. He’s had a taste of her, and no other pussy is good enough. Believe me, I’ve given him options. First, there was Brandie, who I wasted no time in satisfying my needs with. Or, at least tried to satisfy my needs with. Maybe it was a fucked up move to bring her to that concert for the sole purpose of making Tessa jealous, but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted to hurt her, after what she did to me—dumping my ass out of nowhere and not giving me a fucking reason.