Sinfully Read Free

in my life.  I know it sounds bad, but I hated picking up men in my hometown.   Once we ended—which I planned on happening—there was always the chance of seeing them again, and well, that’s awkward.
    I learned from an early age that if you don’t really let people into your life, the less it hurts when they leave.  Being adopted by my loving parents at the age of seven was supposed to be my dream come true, along with my forever home.  Little did I know that they would be taken away from me six short years later. 
    Reports say a drunken teenager was behind the wheel of the car that hit them, but what wasn’t said—due largely because of my family’s lawyer—was that my father was also drunk behind the wheel that night.  My parents were used to going to big parties of the most affluent couples in San Diego.  Drinks flowed freely and my parents weren’t ones to say no to any offerings. Being lawyers themselves allowed me to have a hefty trust fund when I turned eighteen.
    My Aunt Katy took me in when my parents died so that I wouldn’t have to go back into foster care.  This was mainly because my best friend Chloe’s parents agreed that I could stay with them during her overnight shifts as a nurse. 
    I met Chloe right after my adoptive parents took me in and she’s been there right beside me ever since.  Kids in my class thought I was weird because I didn’t want to play with them or talk to anyone.  I was so worried that I’d mess something up and get sent back into the system.  Chloe, a blonde haired girl in my class, was the only one to walk around the playground with me at recess and talk to me about anything and everything.  It was almost a week before I broke down and started talking back.  She never asked questions but always listened.  We slowly became best friends and she’s always been there for me since that day in the playground.  Her parents welcomed me into their house and treated me like their own daughter.  Chloe seemed more like a sister to me, anyway, so it made sense.  All throughout grade school, she was the one constant in my life.  
    After I graduated high school, I moved into a place of my own by using a small portion of my trust fund.  It was a nice, three bedroom, three bath with a bonus room upstairs that I made into a media room.  It had a cottage feel to it that I fell in love with instantly.  It was enough room for me and it has been my home and safe place ever since. 
    Chloe’s house was less than a mile away from me, and a lot nicer than mine, but she only stayed there when her boyfriend stayed the night, too.  Most other nights, she ended up at my house, making the media room her makeshift bedroom.  She hated staying alone and I didn’t mind the company.
    Chloe had been pestering me for months to put my experiences from Vegas on paper since I had told her a handful of my encounters while there.  Everyone assumes it’s always prostitutes and strippers galore, and for some guys it is.  I had found some of the most intriguing, admirable, and sexiest men while vacationing there.  So what if I felt like it was my home away from home?  I could privately fly there and be in my suite two hours after leaving my house in San Diego.  A select few knew me there and it was the only time I could really feel free to be me.  Although I took my girls with me on occasion, Vegas was somewhere I could go to relax, let go, and have fun without having to get too personal.
    I guess being best friends since we were seven gave Chloe and me the ability to talk about our sex lives with each other and provide advice and encouragement when needed.  She and her boyfriend of three years had a stable, yet boring relationship.  She said she needed to hear my stories from my trips to Vegas to spice up her love life.
    I’m not sure anything would help Grayson, her accountant boyfriend.  Traveling was a normal part of his job and Chloe didn’t mind him being away for days on