Slippery When Wet: A Novel (Zane Presents) Read Free Page A

that. I know I fucked up.”
    I tuck the phone into the space between my cheek and neck as I scroll through my emails. “Okay, you fucked up. Glad you realize that. Now, what do you want?” This fool has the audacity to say he wants to see me tonight. Please. I’ll let my pussy freeze over in hell first before I ever let him sniff, lick, or stick this juicy hole again. “Uh, not. No, thank you. You had your chance, Maurice. And there’s no second chances being given out over here.”
    “Don’t you miss what we had, baby?”
    I frown, deleting various emails, then opening my spam folder. “No.” Yeah, it’s a bold-faced lie; there are times that I do miss him. His touch, his kisses, his dark, delicious dick hitting the bottom of my pussy and stretching its walls; I miss it all. And I am pissedat him, at myself, for him being the cause of my cunt slowly churning out cream. But no is all he is deserving of after how he ended it, wanting to fuck some nondescript skinny bitch over me.
    “You don’t mean that.” His voice dips dangerously low. “I know you miss me, baby.” My pussy responds, coming alive. I swallow. “I wanna see you.”
    “That’s too bad.” I press my thighs shut. “I’m no longer available to you, Maurice. So do us both a favor and don’t call my job again.”
    “I was really hoping we could still be friends.”
    “Maurice, I want you to listen to something, okay?”
    “Yeah, I’m listening.”
    Click.
    Fucking asshole!
    He calls right back and I have to threaten to get a restraining order against him if he doesn’t leave me the hell alone. I hang up. Less than a minute later, my phone is ringing again. It’s another outside call. I’m annoyed that my phone’s caller ID isn’t working. I know it’s him so I snatch the phone up on the third ring and give it to him real good. “Listen. I told you we have nothing to say to each other. Call this number again and I will have your monkey ass charged with harassment. Now stop calling my motherfu—”
    “Whoa, whoa,” the voice on the other end says. “Who pissed in your bowl of Cheerios today?”
    I am immediately embarrassed. “Ohmygod, who is this?”
    “Girl, it’s Kara. And remind me to never get on your bad side.” She chuckles. “Long time no chat. Happy New Year to you.”
    Kara—or Karalyn, used to work down on the tenth floor in Logistics before landing a government position down in Bethesda, Maryland over a year ago. Although we weren’t BFF’s, we’refriendly. She’s someone I would go out to lunch with, or meet up after work for an occasional drink. And I liked her enough to want to stay in touch, which is a rarity for me given the fact that I don’t usually do well befriending other women. But there’s something different about Karalyn—I mean, Kara. She always kept to herself. And like me, kept her personal life private. The only thing any of us knew about her personal life—and that was by chance—was that she was married and had no children. Other than that, she kept it strictly professional. And I liked that about her.
    “Ohmygod! I’m so sorry, girl. I thought you were…mmph. Never mind. Happy New Year to you, too. It’s good to hear from you. It’s been ages since we’ve talked.”
    “Yes, it has.” She tells me she’s spent the last six months working over in Afghanistan training. That she returned to the Sates about two weeks ago and had been thinking about me. “Hence the reason for why I’m calling you. I was wondering. What are you doing this weekend?”
    Hmmm, let’s see? Aside from playing in my pussy and OD-ing on red Velvet cake and vanilla bean ice cream the entire weekend, it’s not like my life is one big social calendar. I haven’t been out on a date in months, nor have I had a vacation since the one I took with Maurice last summer to the Margarita Islands, which I practically had to beg him to go to. I glance at my computer screen. “Um, nothing really. Why? What’s