Page 9 of Deadly Obsession

I ordered another man to jack off in the bathroom at work without getting caught. $100.

Some men just want to be yelled at because that gets them off, so I call them through the app and curse them out—totally anonymous.

Easy $50.

But the messages in the Madam app are piling up because nothing is appealing to me.

Noah and I arrived at Club 99 SoHo thirty minutes ago, and she’s already found a hottie to take home.

Now I’m on the prowl.

I finish my drink and flag down the bartender, Harry. He nods, letting me know he saw me. Noah and I come to this club enough that Harry has our drinks memorized.

While I’m waiting on my vodka soda with a splash of cranberry, I scan the dance floor.

Ugh.

There are some beautiful people here tonight, yet I have no desire to walk up to any of them and start flirting.

My resting bitch face must be in full force because a man appears before me with a smirk.

“You look mean.”

“I am.”

“I don’t believe it. You’re too pretty to be mean.”

“I could throw my drink in your face and slap you. Would that convince you?”

“I’d let you slap me around any time, baby.”

I narrow my eyes at the dude.

He’s cute, I suppose.

Tall—six feet if I had to guess—with wavy dark red hair and freckles across his nose. He’s a big guy, but not nearly as big as Elias. This man who is scanning his eyes down my body, his thumb skating across his lower lip, is packed with muscles… which means he’s likely a gym bro.

Gym bros love big girls.

“Can I buy you a drink before you slap me around?” gym bro asks.

Harry arrives at the perfect time, setting booze on the bar in front of me.

“Put it on my tab,” gym bro says and gives Harry the name Ryan Bradford.

Harry looks at me for confirmation, and I give him a nod.

Ryan holds up his beer, and I accept his cheers before taking a deep sip of my drink. I’m tense as fuck, and I need to loosen up.

“So… what’s your name?” Ryan asks.

“What makes you think you deserve my name? Because you bought me a drink?”

He raises a brow, intrigued by my brash response.

“Then tell me what I can do to earn it.”

Hell yeah, he wants to play.