I love women. I’m not ashamed to admit that making a beautiful woman come is my main goal in life—one that I accomplish night after night. Women are as drawn to me as I am to them. I don’t get turned down. It’s not a brag, just a fact. At least it was a fact. Until I met Quinn—the one woman who didn’t fall for my easy charm. Now, I have to have her. She may not want to get close, may not want to admit that I turn her on and can give her a night that she’ll never forget, but she was mine the first moment I saw her. Eventually, I’ll have her beneath me, my hands in her hair, and my name on her lips. It’s what I do. I’m the Panty Whisperer.
"Jesus Christ. You're going to leave me on the side of the highway?" I glare back at him. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because it's my job."
I stare at him like he's some kind of strange alien. "What the fuck are you talking about? This is your job? You're not making any sense."
He rolls his eyes and starts slow clapping. "Very good, Herbert. Jesus H Christ, man."
I'm still trying to figure out what he's talking about as I lean up against the car. He still looks like he wants to whip my ass on the side of the road.
"Well, explain. I'm so stupid I obviously don't get it."
I can practically hear his jaw grinding. "Have you thought about Quinn the entire trip?" He takes a step toward me.
I try to think. Actually, I haven't thought about her once.
"Or have you been pissed at me the entire time?"
I shove my hands in my pockets and look down at the ground.
"That's what I thought. You've been pissed off at me. Worried about how fast we're going. Do you know why I'm going slow? Because that girl that you supposedly love needs some fucking time to think. And god forbid she get more than just a couple of hours because the goddamned Panty Whisperer isn't getting what he wants at the moment." He takes another step toward me, and his eyes are bloodshot, haunting me as I look up at him. "Oh, you can blow her off for days, and she's just supposed to drop everything for you. When you decide to come around. When you just show up at the airport, and her fucking job, busting into the middle of meetings at her work. No, you're a fucking train wreck right now and I'm tired of watching you fuck it up. Tommy will take it from here. And if it means you being a pissed off little cry baby in the seat next to me, so be it, if it keeps you from being a little clingy ass stalker."
I look at him, knowing he's right, and the anger seems to have faded with his words. I give him a slight shrug. "I didn't stalk her."
A smile tries to fight through his now fake anger. "Yes you did. You stalked that poor girl all stalkily. Stalker Texas Ranger. You could write a short story about it if you want, William Stalkner."
I turn to get in the car as he walks around the front, still staying in character as he points two fingers at his eyes and then points them at me. He opens his door and gets back in the car. Turning the key, he looks over at me.
"Go ahead, I know you have at least one more." I chuckle.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He puts the car in drive and gets back on the highway.
I reach for my phone to check my messages.
"Don't you pull out that goddamn phone." He gives me a side eye. "Fuck around and Joffrey will cut your head off, Ned Stalk."
Sloane Howell lives in the Midwest United States and writes dirty stories. When not reading or writing he enjoys hanging out with his family, watching sports, playing with the dogs, traveling, and engaging his readers on social media. You can almost always catch him on Twitter posting something goofy.
Visit his web page www.sloanehowell.com to sign up for his mailing list to get updates on new releases, promos, and giveaways. Thanks for reading.
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