She Ain't The One. Carl Weber

have at the Hyatt. For once in your life, think like a man, Ashlee. Men know how to have no-attachment fun and sex—have some fun and hell, if you feel like it, ride that dick too.

      But if I asked him to come to my room at three in the morning, he’d want to fuck.

      Precisely. What’s the problem? His hands? His feet? That’s not it. Then what’s the problem?

      Sex with another man would completely ruin all chances of getting back with Darius. Jay wasn’t worth the risk. Or was he? I glanced at his feet again. But if I fucked Jay on the first—damn, I can’t even call this a date—the first night, what would he think of me?

      Who gives a damn? Stop dwelling on the negatives; think of the positives. Look at those dark chocolate lips, girl. You’ve got about twenty minutes before last call. Literally!

      Making a move, I laughed, leaning my breasts toward this mouthwatering, tall man who’d saved me, or should I say saved that watermelon-head who walked away? I was about to cuss that idiot out if he hadn’t peeled his raggedy fingernails away from my precious silky skin. God knew I had enough Darius-inflicted scars already. Emotionally. Physically. What made that jerk think he had the right to invade my space and feel me up? Oh, I was about to lay hands on that—I hated when a man disrespected me, and loved when a man protected me the way Jay did.

      Focus, Ashlee, focus. You are not alone; you have someone sitting across from you, okay?

      “Um, um, um. Thanks for keeping me from slapping that man,” I said angrily, then checked myself, meshing laughter with a contrived smile.

      My handsome protector smiled, winked, then silently gazed at me, making me hot for sex…with my ex.

      You got it bad, girl.

      I pictured Darius making love to Fancy. Fancy seemed so perfect: her shape, her breasts, her multimillion-dollar real estate firm. Bitch. Wish I could say she was chasing after Darius for his NBA contract money, but that was a lie.

      For some odd reason, Jay reminded me of Darius. I loved Darius so much that, even with laughter bellowing from my stomach at this very moment, my heart ached. I whispered Darius’s name into the cobwebs of my confused mind. as Jay awaited a response.

      I turned my long torso away from Jay, hoping he’d move on to one of the VIP groupies waiting to do anything for or with any man in the VIP section. A few of them were even staring at Jay as he stood in front of me, obviously waiting for him to leave so that they could pounce on him like a cat. (Ladycat—that was Darius’s nickname for Fancy.)

      Interestingly, those hussies prancing around us with way too much cleavage bursting out of their tops and pubic hairs peering from underneath their skirts didn’t seem to impress him. Maybe Jay was a better catch than I realized.

      As he scratched behind his ear, a perplexed grin replaced my rescuer’s laughter, making his deep dimples fade from his cheeks. His beautiful brown eyes lowered from my eyes to my arm, lingering on the pinkish imprint that asshole’s paw left behind, then back up to my eyes.

      Seductively he asked, “Are you okay?” He shoved the bar stool farther underneath the high circular table, giving me a clear view of the large imprint of his dick freely hanging inside his slacks.

      Damn. I’m much better now. Thanks.

      I heard his question but didn’t respond, second-guessing if his charm was natural or his way of trying to sway me into his bedroom, spread my legs, and then make a deposit with no return. More than likely, he just wanted sex. A one-night stand. A good time for himself. Certainly, he didn’t care about me. If he did, he would’ve noticed I could’ve used a hug. I was sure that, in his mind, he’d already grazed his luscious tongue over my perky pink nipples, sucking them into a firm erection. My ruby-red lipstick was probably wrapping around his dick, trailing from his bulging head down to his nuts, until he’d come all over my face in a pleasurable roar while running his fingers through my long hair.

      I don’t know what I’ll do if this man uses me up too. I stared through the window at the boats docked outside on the waterfront. The motionless vessels, synchronizing with my slender body, indicated the water was calm. So was I—on the outside. I was confused on the inside. I desperately wanted him, yet I didn’t want to feel dirty afterward if I gave myself to him. Yeah, whoever this fine man was, patiently smiling at me, if he knew what I knew, he would leave now. Right now.

      “Are you okay?” he asked again.

      Not looking at him I whispered, “I’m fine.” And, God, please don’t let him say, “You sure are,” because I swear, if I hear that lame-ass line one more time, I’ma slap him so hard, the song playing in the background is gonna skip a beat or two.

      “Good.” His mouthwatering smile commanded my attention, surprisingly making my panties moist.

      Why he stood next to me exuding sexual implications, when he could’ve easily had any one of the so-called women in the room, I didn’t know. Honestly, I did know but hoped I was wrong. I just couldn’t take being a man’s playmate again. I had a brain, and thanks to my doggish ex, my intelligence was attached to a broken heart—a lethal combination for establishing a new love affair.

      Imagining Jay’s thick lips kissing my clit, I repositioned my hips on the stool. Damn, he sounded good. I hadn’t made love in almost a year; no man had made me want to. Foolishly I had had sex with Darius whenever he wanted because I didn’t want to believe he didn’t love me no more. Darius had gone from making love to me, to straight-up fucking me like I was a whore he’d picked up for a one-night stand.

      Interrupting my thoughts, Jay continued, “You look like a smart lady. Do you mind if I ask you a quick question before I leave?”

      Before you leave? Where are you going? He’s supposed to be interested in me.

      “Sure. Ask me anything.” I gazed at his hands. Slowly my eyes trailed up his arm, over his biceps, shoulder, neck, to his dimples, and paused. How could I have missed those dazzling dimples? Gradually, I lifted my eyelids, invitingly peering into his eyes. Suppressing my rapid breathing, quietly I inhaled, imagining Jay finger-fucking the shit out of me right now on top of the table in the midst of hundreds of people. Maybe if he fucked me like he didn’t know me, didn’t want to get to know me, and couldn’t care less if he saw me again, I wouldn’t have any expectations of him. Expectations were the detour to the demise of my happiness.

      Moaning a slow “Mmmmm,” Jay was a welcome distraction from the previous sorry-ass men with their annoying-ass lines.

      What’s a beautiful woman like you doing sitting by yourself? Where’s your man? Your husband let you come out alone? Those men knew good ’n well they were happy I was alone and couldn’t care less if I had a man or husband. Besides, they were interrupting me depressing myself by dwelling on all the things Darius and I had been through.

      Jay smiled. “Do you think a man can be friends with his ex?”

      “Huhhhh?” Thanks for interrupting my thoughts and making my pussy hot again. I lowered my head as silence hovered over us. I couldn’t escape the memories. My history with Darius defined me. Denied me from being free. Darius’s mom married my dad, and I was naive enough to let him convince me that our parents’ marriage didn’t make us related. He reassured me it was okay for us to become lovers because even though we’d lived together as kids we weren’t biologically related and there was no way that our kids would come out deformed. Darius always loved a challenge. The longer I said no, the more attention he’d given me. When I submitted to his desires, I thought if I made Darius happy, he would make me happy, and we’d be together forever.

      “Was it something I said?” Jay asked, lightly touching my hand.

      My pussy quivered. Reclaiming my hand, I answered his first question, “Not if you’re still in love. Exes can never be friends; not true friends anyway.”

      I’d been foolish enough to accept a job working for Darius at his Los Angeles company, Somebody Gotta Be On Top. Sure as hell wasn’t me—unless we were having