Malcolm
"Sweet and salty," Stacey purrs, licking a stray drop of cum from her lips before reaching for a chocolate truffle. "It's the perfect combo." I can't help but marvel at how exact her lipstick matches her nail polish—a candy apple red, with a gloss that looks wet.
Instead of responding, I give her a nonchalant nod as I pull on my pants.
Athena knows how to pick a hotel suite; I'll give her that. And she knows how to pick women. Over these last two months, she's thrown every trick in the book at me.
And let me tell you—this room drips opulence and seduction.
There's a tray of strawberries on the coffee table, a handful of the finest dark chocolate truffles I've ever seen, and two flutes of Dom Perignon White Gold champagne, popping and glittering like two scoops of diamonds.
Of course, I know this is all part of Athena's game.
It's a trap—a gilded cage, really. But a damn good one at that.
The nicer the room—the props—the girls—all of that is supposed to lure me into falling in love, but so far this has been easier than I could've ever imagined.
Like I said, love is a foreign concept. I wasn't kidding when I told you that.
One of Athena's most recent girls—Stacey, is fastening her bra across her back.
Sure, she's hot—a fiery red-head with a perfect heart-shaped ass and great tits that she's been flashing in my face all night, and she just gave me a grade-A blow job, but I'm not in the least bit interested in fucking her, let alone falling in love with her.
Just thinking about that as a possibility almost makes me laugh.
After she finishes pulling her clothes back on, she reaches down and pinches a strawberry in between her fingers.
She smiles, and slowly brings it to her lips, taking a bite while keeping her eyes locked on mine. I watch as a small, ruby-colored drop of juice escapes from her lips and drips down her chin.
"Whoops," she giggles, scooping the juice with her fingertip, and licking it. "Want a bite?" she asks, holding the strawberry in my direction.
"Maybe another time, doll," I say, pulling up the zipper of my pants with a quick, metallic zing.
It's an act of finality.
She looks disappointed. Downright deflated. Even her hair has lost some of its volume. She knows her time is running out with me, and she's ready to pull out all the stops.
"How about a bite of these?" she purrs, squeezing her breasts together. Her nipples are popping out above the top of her bra. For a split second, I think about using my tongue to give those tits a quick taste, but I shake that thought from my mind.
And then I wonder if something's wrong with me.
Am I defective? I mean, here's a beautiful woman throwing herself at me, and I'm not in the least bit interested in fucking her.
My cock isn't even hard.
What. The. Fuck.
In fact, I haven't been interested in fucking any of the girls Athena's sent my way. Don't get me wrong, they've all been hot—some of the hottest women I've ever seen—but I'm not interested, not even tempted. And that's gotta be some kind of record for me.
And it's not because of this '100 Days' game either.
Sure, I'm competitive, and I want to win … but if I'm honest, the real reason I'm not interested in fucking any of these girls is because I can't get Athena Hawke out of my mind.
She's unlike any woman I've ever seen before.
Confident … and yet, indifferent.
I'm intrigued by the way she didn't fall over herself when we met. Most women do, but not her. She acted as if she didn't care if I was in the room or not.
I've never experienced that before.
And I had no idea she was so … hot. Those sharp stilettos, tight pencil skirt, and perfectly tailored blouse hugging her curves… now there's a woman who knows what she's doing. Her business acumen is enviable, and she knows how to command a room better than any woman I've ever met.
The more I think about it, the more it dawns on me that she'd make an interesting conquest. What man wouldn't want to conquer something like that? But then again, it's probably best that she's not in this game.
Why am I still thinking about her anyways?
I never think about a single woman this much. I can hardly remember a woman's name, let alone a face. And now I'm obsessing over one.
So, why Athena?
Why now?
It bothers me a little bit that I'm even fucking thinking about her this much, after just one, brief encounter. I don't like the thought of a woman getting under my skin, especially now. Not like this. I need to keep a cool, clear head to win this fucking game.
But honestly, I'm not worried.
"Maybe I'll see you around?" Stacey says, her voice thick with hope. I almost forgot that she was still here. She has her purse slung over one shoulder, and is nearly out the door.
"Sure doll," I say. "Maybe."
But even she recognizes that as a lie, and without another sound, she steps out the door, closing it behind her.
In her silent absence, I wonder if I'm even capable of falling in love.
But I shake that thought from my brain like flicking ants off of a picnic blanket.
It's a nuisance following those thoughts.
It's not fucking worth my time.
This is about business, and right now, my ass is on the line. My future wealth depends on it. It's the difference between the penthouse suite and a cardboard box, remember?
I'm looking for money, not love. It's really that fucking simple.
At this point, I'm halfway though the game, with only a couple of months to go.
50 days down, and 50 more to go.
I'm in the home stretch, baby. I can smell the money.