Taking a drag, I place my hand on her throat and squeeze. She lets out a surprised gasp and then smiles, as she looks me in the eyes.

Not wanting to start up a conversation and have fucking small talk, I push down on her head until she’s on her knees in front of me, reaching for my belt.

After the way I was left feeling a couple of hours ago, I need this shit right now.

I grip the desk with one hand and hold my cigarette to my mouth with the other as I feel her tongue swirl around my tip, before she takes me into her mouth, gagging as she adjusts to my size.

Blaine was right. She does give a mean blowjob, but there’s no way this chick will have me blowing anytime soon.

Twenty minutes of her mouth on my cock and I’m still not relieved. She keeps going faster and harder, taking me deeper until she’s choking and digging her nails into my thighs. It’s still not doing what I need.

Without a knock the door flings open and Blaine pokes his head inside. “Dude, what the fuck? It’s been like twenty minutes.”

I grab the back of Kellie’s head and take charge myself, holding her head still as I thrust into her mouth.

“Get the fuck out, asshole. Now.”

Blaine takes a second to watch us and moans, before finally shutting the door and disappearing. He always finds some kind of fucking excuse to barge in when I’m getting off in my damn office. Horny little shit. He takes advantage of the fact that I hate locked doors.

Right after he closes the door, I stand up straight and tangle my hands into her hair, thrusting one more time before holding her still as I shoot my hot cum down her throat.

She swallows and wipes her mouth off as she stands up and fixes her now wild hair. “Fuck . . . my mouth is numb,” she complains.

“Yeah, and so is my dick.”

She smiles, ignoring my comment, and runs her hands down my thighs seductively. “How long do you need before we fuck? I can go all night, babe.”

I tilt my head toward the door. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. Tell Blaine I said to make you a fucking drink on me,” I say in dismissal.

A flash of disappointment crosses her face as she fixes her hair one last time, and then walks out the door mumbling.

I sit in the dark for a good fifteen minutes before washing up and joining Blaine and the others back in the bar. I don’t really want them here, but I’ll deal for as long as I can.

Blaine is too busy talking to his guy Jake behind the bar to notice what’s going on over at the table, but it’s the first thing my eyes land on.

Lines of blow cover the table, accompanied by a pile of cash and a little plastic bag.

The guy with a green flannel is leaning over the table, getting ready to sample the goods.

“Get your trash the fuck out of here,” I say firmly. “Do that shit somewhere else.”

I don’t trust fuckers that I don’t know.

The guy in the flannel laughs and says, “Fuck off,” before leaning completely over and snorting the whole line. He stands up when done and smirks. “Don’t know who the fuck you are.”

I hear Blaine stammer, “Oh shit,” at the same time that I make my way over to the table and grab the asshole by the back of the neck, hard.

Clenching my jaw, I move my hand up to the back of his head and slam it into the table, repeatedly, until all of their merchandise is scattered around the table and floor, his face covered in blood.

One of his friends comes at me, but I pull out my knife and place the blade against his throbbing neck.

I feel Blaine grip my shoulder, but I ignore him, pressing my lips beside the little bitch’s ear, letting him know that he’s fucked with the wrong person tonight. “This is my fucking bar, and I said get your trash the fuck out. Don’t make me repeat myself again. I hate repeating myself.”

I slam his head into the table one last time to make sure he gets the message, before releasing him and turning to his friend, who is now standing with his hands up.

“Get the fuck out of here.” I point to the table and start walking over to pour myself another drink, before I end up killing one of these assholes. “Clean that shit up first.”

Blaine approaches me, but I throw him a look that tells him he’s about to lose his life if he takes another step. Tonight is not the fucking night to cross me.

He backs off, knowing not to push me right now. I know it’s not his fault, but he knows how I feel about strangers dealing drugs in my motherfucking bar.

That shit has already fucked me over once. It’s what got me here in the first place . . .

I SEND A TEXT TO MADISON for the third time today since I’ve left the house. Twenty minutes later and I still have no response from her over dramatic ass. I’ve been looking at my phone like an idiot for most of the day now, just hoping she’d cool off by this point. She barely even spoke to me before I left this morning to go to Colton’s; pretty much just said good fucking morning and have a fantastic time at the boring dinner party tonight. I feel really bad about what I did, but I seriously had to go. I couldn’t help it. Maybe next time I should just pop a squat in a nearby flowerpot. I just hope she gets over it soon. I hate a pissy Madison.

Colton is having a party at his house tonight; more like a business dinner to show appreciation and hopefully draw more people in. All of his top clients as well as their friends and family will be showing up any minute now for overly priced food and wine. Honestly, most of it looks unsatisfying and sort of gross to me.

I feel completely out of place here, but Colton suggested that I help set up and stick around for the party. I only agreed since I haven’t seen him in practically three damn days, and because Madison spent most of the morning shooting daggers my way. Plus, I thought maybe it would feel nice to spend some time with him and do something as a team, but he’s been uptight and on edge all day.

“Hey, Marie, baby.” I look up from the bowl of fruit salad that I’m picking at and exhale, annoyed. “Mind giving me a hand with these glasses and plates? We need to hurry. A car just pulled up out front and I don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

Colton barely even looks at me when I make my way over to him and reach for a stack of plates. “Stop calling me that,” I complain. “I don’t like being called by my middle name and you know it.”

“Well it’s a lot classier than Avalon, babe.” He flashes me a stiff smile. “So around my clients I’ll call you Marie. Avalon just sounds awkward to introduce people to. It’s not a big deal, but this party is to me.” He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Come on.”

I grind my jaw in distaste and follow him outside and over to the large table, setting down the stack of plates as perfectly organized and in place as I can. I would argue with him more on this matter, but I honestly don’t have the energy today. I just want to get this party over with so I can go home, crawl in bed, and watch some quality TV by myself. I honestly probably should’ve just stayed in bed all day to begin with. Today has been hell.

It’s well into the party now and I have spent most of it hiding out by the food table, stuffing my face with any fried foods that I can find.

Colton has apparently already introduced me to all the clients that he plans to for the night, so I really don’t see why I’m still hanging around anyway. I’ve never seen so many stiff people in my life and it’s making me extremely anxious and uncomfortable.

“Babe.” I force a smile when Colton suddenly appears next to me, walking with a pretty brunette in a white, zip-front pencil skirt. “I want to introduce you to my new investment partner; the one I’ve been telling you about. Misty . . .” He points to the leggy bombshell beside him and then points to me. “This is my girlfriend Marie. She helped me set up the dinner for tonight.”