My cock has an appetite. A huge and very particular appetite: Blonde, curvy, and preferably not a fucking liar...(Although, that's a story for another day.) As a high profile lawyer, I don't have time to waste on relationships, so I fulfill my needs by anonymously chatting and sleeping with women I meet online. My rules are simple: One dinner. One night. No repeats. This is only casual sex. Nothing more. Nothing less. At least it was , until "Alyssa"... She was supposed to be a 27 year old lawyer, a book hoarder, and completely unattractive. She was supposed to be someone I shared law advice with late at night, someone I could trust with details of my weekly escapades. But then she came into my firm for an interview--a college-intern interview, and everything fucking changed... Book 1 in a three part Erotic Romance Serial. Coming Soon. Very Soon.
A self diagnosed candy addict, travel junkie, and hypochondriac, Whitney Gracia Williams LOVES to write about characters that make you laugh, cry, and want to (in the case of Selena Ross) reach through your Kindle and slap them. She is the "imaginary bestselling" author of the Jilted Bride Series, Mid Life Love, Wasted Love, and Captain of My Soul. When she's not locked inside her room, feverishly typing away on her laptop, she can be found here: http://www.whitneygracia.com She also loves getting emails from her readers, so if you want to tell her how much you loved (or hated) her stories, email her at email@example.com
Her light, airy laugh drifted over the line, and I sighed—attempting to envision what she looked like. I wasn’t sure why, but over the past few weeks, I’d been longing toexperience her laughter in person. “You know,” she went on, “for a high profile lawyer, you have a pretty dirty mouth.” “You’d be surprised how much filthier it can get.” “Filthier than what I’ve already experienced?” “Much filthier.” I’d been treading the waters since we began this friendship—still hopeful that we’d meet in person someday, but now that we weren’t, there was no point in holding back. “I guess I’ll talk to you tonight.” “Not unless you find another date between now and then. I know you’ll be searching.” “Of course I’ll be searching.” I scoffed. “Is Alyssa your real name?” “Yes, but I’m sure Thoreau isn’t yours. Do you care to finally give it to me?” “I’ll give it to you when you come to your fucking senses and let me see you.” “You just won’t let that go, will you?” She laughed again. “What if the real reason I don’t want to meet you is because I’m ugly?” “I have a good feeling that you’re not.” “But if I was?” “I’d fuck you with the lights off.” “I prefer the lights on.” “Then I’d make you wear a paper bag over your head.” “WHAT?!” She burst into giggles. “You’re ridiculous! Ugh, there’s a client at my door right now. I have to go. Can I call you later?” “Always.” I hung up, smiling. Then it hit me. Fuck…She always finds a way out of that line of questioning…
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