Chapter Three
Maverick
This chick looks completely mortified. She would look less shocked if she walked onto an airplane naked. Or got caught fucking in public. Her huge blue eyes are scared shitless, like a wounded animal. I know what scared shitless looks like. I deal it out as a profession.
I turn on my smile and watch her study my face. She’s guarded…I see it. A challenge. Not an easy fuck. Not my type at all. I glance at her cute friend who looks easy as poker with a blind man. She’s exactly my type. No strings. I’m not even sure what drew me to the doe-eyed girl in the first place.
The friend chuckles a little and pushes her toward me. The friend must be taken. “No…thank yo-u,” Blue Eyes stutters, finally responding. Sinking my hands in the pockets of my jeans I narrow my eyes.
“Are you sure? I’m good at fixing things.” Her cheeks are so red I think she will turn into flames any second. I laugh. I could let my little charade go on all night. When she stays silent, I nod at her bare foot and then the shoe she clutches in her hand. “Your shoe is broken. Do you want me to fix it?” I ask, putting her out of her misery. She visibly relaxes when she realizes I’m not talking about munching on her. The joke was too easy.
Balancing on one foot, she slips her shoe back on. I catch a glimpse of her purple toes before she does. It reminds me of how all women get dressed after I’m done with them and my dick gets hard. I readjust it through my pocket. Her eyes dart down to my crotch. Perfect. It’s exactly where I want her attention.
“My shoe is fine. Some idiot spilled on me,” she says, as her gaze wanders back up to my face. I make sure the smile is in place when she does. I like to watch them squirm before I leave them in the dust. She’s different though. Her expression hardens even further. “I won’t be needing your services tonight.”
Ouch. Blue eyes isn’t even pretending; she doesn’t have any interest. Which pisses me off because that means I’m wrong. Mentally, I lower my woman targeting percentage. I’m intrigued even more. Studying her small frame, hugged inside a tight black dress, I want to see more. Because I know the challenge is steep, I want it that much more.
Her friend peeks over her shoulder. “Or maybe you do need fixing tonight, Windsor?”
Her name. Something as small as a name holds a huge part in seduction. I use it to its full advantage. If the friend thinks she needs fixing, it must be really bad.
Blue Eyes shoots her friend a death glare and hisses something under her breath. She yanks down her dress. “Despite what my bitch best friend says, I don’t need fixing. Especially the brand of fixing you are skilled at dealing out,” she says. Her eyes don’t waver. Her shoulders don’t slink. She stands proud as she shoots me down. The problem is I haven’t even propositioned her yet. Not really anyways. Not flat out. Game fucking on. Challenge accepted.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Windsor. I was just going to ask this fine bartender to fix you a drink. What is your pleasure?” I ask. I don’t take my eyes off hers as I throw my hand in the air to get Benji’s attention. Surely she won’t turn down a drink. She is out at a bar after all.
Her poker face is tight. Better than some of the guys. I think she will turn me down and it pisses me off. Her friend leaves and starts dancing with a girl in a tiny skirt. Blue Eyes looks at them longingly. She bites her bottom lip. The thought of my dick in her mouth pops into my mind.
“A martini. Vodka. No ice. No olives. Dirty,” she says, leaning in. Barely suppressing a groan, I order her drink and motion for her to take the seat next to me at the bar. Sitting is the only thing I’ll be able to do while I’m around this girl. The supreme cock tease. That’s exactly what the guys would call this one.
My goal tonight is to figure out just how challenging this will be. One should always know exactly what they’re fighting for. Once I fixate on something I don’t stop until I get it perfected. I want to perfect fucking Blue Eyes. Then, once I reach that goal, I’ll find a new one. Something or someone more complicated. The women shouldn’t be offended. It’s how my entire life is. One set of hurdles followed by more and more and more. Now, at almost thirty I’m pretty perfect at a lot of fucking things. I may not be a good guy, but I am fucking perfect. Maverick Hart’s luck doesn’t ever run dry.
“Name?” she asks, staring into her martini glass. I chuckle.
“What do you want it to be?” If looks could kill, I’d be doubling over in pain.
“I don’t want it to be anything. It is rude not to introduce yourself. After all, you’ve already offered the rental of your mouth and/or dick for the night without even telling me your name,” she says, grimacing. Damn. She reads between the lines better than I thought.
“I don’t rent out my body parts, Windsor. I loan my services. My name is Maverick and I do not want to loan to you. I don’t think you have a large enough down payment. Too much liability,” I tease. Her face drops. She looks surprised by my cavalier sex talk. So, she’s guarded and innocent. “So what does Windsor, who does not like to be objectified, do for a living?” I ask.
She runs her forefinger around the rim of her glass. I shift in my seat. She notices. A smile crosses her lips. “I balance risks and liabilities,” she says, tilting her head to the side. Her brown hair swings around her shoulder. I smile so she’ll continue and so I can hide the God damned lust I feel. “I’m an accountant, Maverick. A CPA. I deal with other people’s money for a living. What about you?” she asks.
Cock Polishing Assistant. The abbreviation wiggles in my mind, but the second she says what she does I’m already trying to think of what I can do to force her to see me again. The ideas are endless now that I know her profession.
She raises her eyebrows as she waits for me to tell her what I do. I think she already knows. She saw the guys I arrived with. It’s not really a secret. Just in case she really is clueless, I play the subtle card. “Oh, you know. I’m Navy,” I say, sipping on water.
She nods, smiles, and brings her lips to her glass, draining it in one large gulp. “I knew it,” she says, after taking a large breath. I raise my eyebrows. She glances over at Stone and his wife Morganna, lifting her small hand to wave in their direction.
I follow her gaze and see a stony-faced Morg. She knows I’m a womanizer. She knows my game. Windsor must be her friend. Shit. Shit. Shit. Bad news. Stone smiles and then forces Morg to kiss him, all tongue and groping hands. Only Stone has that kind of control over that wild card. I’ll have to ask him to smooth my way with Windsor. I want this and I want her more than anything I’ve wanted in a while. It confuses me and excites me at the same fucking time. A new, shiny toy.
Windsor clears her throat. “Well, I think I’ve had enough fixing for tonight.” She stands to go and I grab her wrist. She’s warm and soft against my huge calloused hand. Delicate. Fragile. Perfect for fucking. I stand in front of her, towering over her slight frame. I know the masses of easy fucks are just behind me, but I want this one. I want Windsor. I study her profile as she looks out the dancing bodies, searching for someone. Her friend? A man? The questions are endless and I feel helpless. I need to talk to her more. Her glossy lips shine in the dim lights. I want to know exactly how she can use them. On every square inch of my body.
“Number?” I ask in the same manner she asked for my name. I never get phone numbers. There’s no need. I fuck em’ and forget em’. I can’t even believe the word just came out of my mouth. I hope I don’t sound desperate. Actually, maybe it will work to my benefit if I do. This is a game, after all.
“I don’t do dates. I don’t give numbers. I work with them. Let’s not pretend this is going anywhere.” She motions between us with a swift flick of her hand. “I know what you’re after and, frankly, I’m not giving it up. Not to anyone and especially not to a Navy SEAL who shoots just as precisely with his gun as he does his dick,” she says.
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes. Humor, innocence, and guarded like Ft. Knox. She smiles over her shoulder as she walks away, her perfect ass moving in the wrong direction.
I only know a few things about this woman, but I’m left with one damn thought: Windsor wins this match, hands down. I rearrange my hard-on for the millionth time in one night. Mother fucker.