“Good. I need a task like that to get my mind into action. I’ll make us some coffee and then we can get on with it.”

  ---

  “Emily, what are you doing tonight?” John called from the living room. I was working in my bedroom and had been going for about four hours now with barely a break. This was just what I needed, a chance to get my head back in the game and spend a few hours not thinking about Carter.

  Except now I was thinking about him again. Crap.

  “Working,” I replied. “Although I could take the night off, I guess, if you want to catch a movie.”

  John strolled into my room and sat on the bed. “I had something much more fun in mind, actually.”

  Oh, no. That didn’t sound promising. When it came to nights out, John and I usually had a very different idea of what constituted fun.

  “There’s a new bar opening up on Mission Street. Mate of mine can’t go and has two tickets up for grabs.”

  “I’d rather not,” I said. “I don’t fancy going to a loud bar full of drunks.”

  “It’s described as gay-friendly, so you won’t be harassed. Straight guys don’t tend to go near those sorts of places. Why do you think I’m so keen to go?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “The tickets were going for $30 each and we have them for free. Come on, Emily. You need to let your hair down. How about we just go there, have two or three drinks, dance with a couple of queens and then leave?”

  That was how John always dragged me out to bars—with a promise that it would just be for a few drinks. It never was. But I could use a night out and gay bars did tend to be a lot of fun. More fun than going to bars where guys felt you up while you ordered a drink and took dancing as an invitation to grind their cocks up against you, anyway.

  I didn’t make it onto the dance floor that often—my fake leg was not conducive to sexy maneuvers—but when I did, some idiot would always thrust an erection against my ass or pussy as if that were a turn-on somehow.

  “Fine,” I relented. “We go for two drinks and then leave, okay?”

  “Yes!” John cheered with a clenched fist. “I was so sure you’d say no. No offense, but you’ve been a real bore lately.”

  “I have just split up with someone,” I replied. “Doesn’t that give me a bit of leeway to be miserable?”

  “No,” John replied. “Well, yes, I guess it does, but I don’t want you to revert back to old Emily. When you were with Carter, you were so much more enthusiastic. You should try and stick with that attitude.”

  “I hadn’t even noticed a difference,” I admitted. All I could remember about my time with Carter was that I was jealous a lot. Although the sex had been nice, I had to admit.

  “You were glowing, Emily. I don’t know if it was specifically Carter or just the fact that you were getting laid, but you were looking truly fantastic. And you’d forgotten about the leg.”

  “No, I hadn’t. I never forget about it.”

  “You did. I saw you go out during the day with it on display. You never do that.”

  I tried to think back to what I had been wearing recently. The weather had been warm enough for short skirts, but I usually wore leggings underneath to hide my prosthetic. If Carter had made me forget about my appearance, then I must have fallen for him more than I realized.

  “Okay, okay, stop hassling me,” I said at last. “I’m going out tonight and I will even try to have fun.”

  “Excellent, because I have bought you some new clothes to wear.”

  Chapter Four

  I couldn’t be entirely sure whether John had bought the new clothes from a store or just mugged a prostitute, but suffice it to say I did not feel comfortable in them. I had a strappy top with a plunging neckline that revealed most of my breasts, which in turn were being shoved up and out by a push-up bra.

  The skirt was short and tight and left little to anyone’s imagination. I’d never gone out at night feeling so exposed. The cool San Francisco breeze blew under my skirt and left goosebumps between my thighs.

  John hadn’t bought any shoes for me, at least—I had to get mine specially made—so I slipped into some modest heels. Nothing covered my legs. John had forbid me wearing tights or any leggings which meant both my legs were out in the open.

  Most people didn’t notice the prosthetic with just a quick glance, especially at night, but as I walked around I heard people behind me start gossiping about it. The prosthetic was thinner than my other leg and the plastic-looking material tended to reflect light in a way that caught people’s eye.

  The new bar stood out a mile away. In addition to some flashy signage, there was a line that snaked around the block and didn’t seem to be moving. For a gay bar, there were more women waiting in line than I’d expected and a lot of the men looked more reserved than was typical in the gay scene on Mission Street.

  “I wish you’d let me wear a cardigan or a jacket,” I said to John, shivering in the breeze. “We’ll be waiting outside for an hour, judging by the size of this line.

  “We don’t have to queue,” John said. “These tickets get us straight past all the riff-raff.”

  We walked straight up to the door and were let in without needing to show any ID. I suspected a few people in line thought we were getting special treatment because of my leg, but at that point I didn’t really care. The bar was lively and loud, but not so busy that we couldn’t go straight to the bar to get a drink. No doubt the line outside was just to help the bar get a reputation as being exclusive and hard to get into.

  The intention had been to leave after two drinks, but I necked back that many in the space of just thirty minutes and agreed to stay on. Besides, we had a nice table in the corner and the bar was starting to fill out. I always appreciated having a seat more when people around us didn’t.

  “Just admit it, you are having fun,” John said. “This is a cool little place.”

  “I am, but it’s not what I expected. For one thing, I thought you said this was a gay bar? Everyone in here looks straight to me.”

  “You can’t tell if someone is straight just by looking at them,” John replied.

  “No, but I can tell that the men here are not gay by the way they’re checking out other women. It’s not exactly subtle.”

  “Okay, okay,” John said, holding up his hands. “I never actually told you this was a gay bar. I said it was gay-friendly. Which it is. I know the owner, and he is friendly to me.”

  “So, this isn’t a gay bar?”

  “No. I just said that to get you out for the night.”

  “You’re an ass sometimes, you know.”

  “I regret nothing,” John said. “You’re having fun. I can see it in your eyes. Now, I’m going to leave for a bit and let that guy over there come and say hello.”

  John pointed to a decent looking guy by the bar. He had a tall, slender frame, and while he didn’t work out much, he probably did a fair bit of yoga or something to give him muscle definition.

  “He’s been eyeing you up all night, but he isn’t likely to come over while I’m sat here.”

  “No, don’t you dare go anywhere!”

  “You’ll thank me in the morning,” John said with a wink as he left me by myself at the table.

  I cast a few nervous glances in the direction of my supposed admirer. Could he really have been looking at me? There were some stunning women in here, so that didn’t seem likely.

  I took another sip of my drink, carefully glancing in his direction as I did so. The man looked straight at me and smiled. I tried to return it, but still had a mouthful of drink and managed to dribble some of it down my chin. This was like meeting Carter all over again.

  My smile vanished as I pictured Carter again. This stranger was handsome, but he was no Carter. In my head, I pictured him looking at me over a glass of whiskey.

  What I wouldn’t do to have him sweep me off my feet now…

  The stranger wasn’t short on confidence and he approached my table as soon as he saw me smile at him. This is the bit I was just no good at. I had no idea how to be nice and polite to men in bars while not sending out mixed messages about wanting him to take me home.

  Maybe I should fuck this guy? Would that help get Carter out of my system? John clearly seemed to think so, and it had worked for him.

  “Hi, do you mind if I sit here?” the man asked.

  Last time I’d heard those words had been when Carter sat opposite me in the coffee shop. That seemed like a lifetime ago then. I hadn’t known about Carter’s involvement in the accident. Everything was different now.

  “Be my guest,” I replied. “I’m Emily.”

  “Mason,” he said, holding out his hand. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Oh, no need,” I said. “I’m still working on this one, and you’ve only just sat down.”

  Mason smiled and got the attention of a bartender. I didn’t hear what he said, but just a minute later the bartender came back with two Manhattans.

  “Do you work here?” I asked. The bar didn’t have table service, at least not for anyone else, and Mason hadn’t paid for the drink.

  “Sort of,” Mason replied. “I own the place.”

  I rolled my eyes as everything fell into place. Mason must be a friend of John’s. This whole thing was one big setup.

  “You’re John’s friend?” I asked. Mason nodded. “Look, I don’t know what John has told you about me, but I’m not looking to meet anyone right now. I hope he hasn’t given you the wrong impression.”

  “I’m not exactly looking for anyone myself either,” Mason said. “I’m just here to keep my customers entertained. No pressure.”

  Thankfully, Mason kept to his word and we just talked casually while I sipped my drink. I caught a few glimpses of John with a guy on the dance floor. There was a good chance I would be bumping into that guy over breakfast tomorrow morning.

  Mason had crept closer and closer as we talked and I didn’t stop him. I even flirted a little bit; playing with my hair and attempting to flutter my eyelashes. Was I betraying Carter? Technically we weren’t a couple—probably never had been—but I still wanted to be with him. I would have swapped Mason for Carter in a heartbeat if I could.

  “So, how about we go dance?” Mason asked. “I have no ill intentions, I promise. Let’s just let our hair down on the dance floor.”

  No one was more surprised than me when I stood up and walked over to dance. Mason didn’t bat an eye at my leg, so John must have already told him. If he didn’t care, then I had no reason to be embarrassed about it.

  I took a deep breath and tried to relax. Maybe Mason would be the perfect cure to Carter’s hold over me.

  Chapter Five

  The music was loud and quick, but Mason matched his pace to mine. I felt the stares from the other dancers, some smirking, some seemingly in awe at my dancing as if a girl with an artificial leg shouldn’t be able to move at all.

  When Mason put the moves on I only made a weak effort to resist. I pushed him away, but only feebly. He placed his hands on my ass and pulled our middles together. We ground our hips in time to the music and I could feel his erection building, twitching against my sex.

  My heart raced, but I didn’t feel that horny. My pussy wasn’t wet like when Carter touched me. He only needed to look at me and I would be dripping. Mason wasn’t doing it for me.

  That’s when Mason went in for the kiss. His lips took me by surprise as they pressed mine apart. His tongue forced its way inside me as our teeth clashed in a clumsy embrace.

  Mason was nothing like Carter. Carter was forceful, but gentle at the same time. Mason was like a horny schoolboy.

  So why was I letting him kiss me? My brain was telling me this was a bad idea, but I couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to resist him. Sure, the sex would be a little dull, but at least I would have some cock inside me again. I couldn’t stay celibate for the rest of my life just because it hadn’t worked out with Carter.

  Mason’s fingers started wandering up inside my skirt and I felt them brush against my panties. The skirt was too tight for him to move freely, so he pulled out his hand and roughly manhandled my breasts instead. The left nipple popped out of my bra. There was no stopping Mason now.

  “Let’s go to my office,” he said, leading me by the hand. I went with him willingly, just hoping that a quick fumble would cure me of my lust for Carter. Not likely, but a girl could hope.

  I looked around me as we went to an employee-only room. Eyes followed us, the women judging me and the men likely jealous.

  As soon as we were inside, Mason pushed me onto his desk and spread my legs. He unbuckled his belt and slipped down his trousers. He didn’t even bother to take off my knickers; he just pushed them to one side.

  “Wait,” I said, as I squirmed away from him just before he entered me. “We need a condom.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’m clean and I know you are too since you’re a little on the innocent side, according to John.”

  “No,” I said, trying to shut my legs and push him away. Mason wasn’t listening and I wouldn’t be able to hold him off much longer. “Please don’t,” I moaned. How had this happened? It seemed like only minutes ago we had been chatting over a drink, and now Mason was trying to force his way inside me.

  I flung out a leg to kick Mason, but he caught it in one hand and spread my legs open wide. “Feisty little bitch, aren’t you?” he said. “Why don’t you just relax? You’ll enjoy a good fucking.”

  I closed my eyes and gave up, bracing myself for his member to slam inside me. Instead Mason let go of my legs. I opened my eyes just in time to see Carter throwing Mason up against the wall off his office. His thick hand wrapped around Mason’s neck as he lifted him off the floor.

  “Carter,” I muttered as I tried to sit up and rearrange my clothing. “Don’t hurt him.”

  “Why?” Carter yelled through gritted teeth as he tightened his grip on Mason’s throat. Mason spluttered and gasped for air as his face turned bright red. “Why should I let this sniveling mess get away with it?”

  “He’s not worth it,” I said. “Please. Can we just get out of here?”

  Carter held on to Mason’s neck for a few more seconds and then let go. Mason fell to the floor, breathing hard and loosening his shirt. Carter walked over to me and helped me up off the desk. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders for support and could feel the veins pulsing through his body. His muscles were tense and the anger flowed through him. As we walked past Mason, Carter turned to look at him and swung his leg right between Mason’s. Mason’s now limp dick took the brunt of the impact, causing him to curl up in a ball on the floor.

  “Let’s go,” Carter said, practically dragging me out of the bar and into his car. He handled me roughly, unable to control his anger, and ordered the driver to take us back to his place.

  “Carter?” I murmured to break the silence. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t respond and we sat in silence the entire ride home. That changed as soon as we stepped into his penthouse.

  “What the fuck were you playing at, Emily?” Carter yelled at me. “You cannot fucking do that. Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

  His words, his anger, hit my like a punch to the gut and hurt almost as much as Mason’s actions earlier. Why was he mad at me? This was hardly my fault. I just wanted to go to sleep, not listen to his bullshit.

  “I can do what the fuck I like, Carter,” I yelled. “I don’t belong to you. If I want to screw some guy I just met, then I am perfectly entitled to do that. You’ve probably already screwed a couple of cheap tarts since we split up.”

  “What has gotten into you?” Carter asked. “This is not you talking.”

  “You killed my brother—that’s what gotten into me.” I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them. It felt good to get them out, but Carter didn’t deserve that.

  “Shit,” Carter muttered. “I’m sorry, Emily, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for not stepping in sooner.”

  “I’m tired,” I said, my eyes suddenly feeling heavy. “Really tired.” Carter just about managed to get me back onto the sofa before I fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Six

  The sun streamed into the room and I squinted to read the time on my phone. Eleven o’clock. God, I hadn’t slept in that late since I was in college. The smell of coffee wafted in from the kitchen and immediately gave me a bit of a kick.

  “Morning,” Carter said, handing me a fresh cup of coffee. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like crap,” I said. “And not just from the hangover. I don’t know how I let that happen, I should never have put myself—”

  “Stop, Emily. Stop right there. Do not for one second blame yourself for what happened last night.”

  “But you were so mad—”

  “I wasn’t mad with you, for Christ’s sake, I was mad at myself. I should have got there sooner. How are you feeling? You went through something traumatic last night. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No, no, it’s okay. I can’t remember any of it at the moment and I don’t want to. Why were you there, anyway? How did you know where I was?”

  “John told me. He set you up with Mason to make me jealous. The idea was that I would come along and see you two together and realize that I want you.”

  “I can’t believe he did that. I’m so sorry. I’m going to kill him.”

  “Don’t worry,” Carter said. “I’ve already had a little chat with him. Warned him against setting you up with sick rapists.”

  I cringed and crossed my legs, still feeling ashamed about last night. Mason had crossed the line, but I had willingly gone to his office and I felt like crap for it.

  “And I told John that he does not need to make me jealous. I didn’t go into detail, but I told him that you ditched me and not the other way around. He seemed quite surprised, actually.”

  “Thanks. But now he’s going to give me loads of grief for ditching a ‘sex god’—his words, not mine.”

 

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