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I sighed as I stepped into my chef’s kitchen and deposited my keys into a dish on the black marble countertop. My eyes were drawn to the picture frame behind the dish. It was a picture of Axel, Jackie, and me after his first high school football game during his freshman year.
I gripped the edge of the counter and fought through the tightness in my chest. It’d gotten easier over the years. I’d gone through grief therapy, which had helped. I’d learned to deal with being alone. Hell, maybe I was lonely and was too damn stubborn to admit it. I’d actively made a decision not to pursue a relationship.
It wasn’t like I didn’t have opportunities. I was a former NFL star who was worth millions. I worked out every day and kept in shape. My doctor said I was in better shape than most men half my age. I wasn’t dead, and I didn’t need the fucking “blue pill” to get my dick up. My hand, who had a very close relationship with my dick, could attest to that.
I pushed off the counter, realizing I needed something strong to help me relax. Whisky. A nightcap of whisky would do it. I passed through the living room, down a spacious hall until I reached my man cave. This was my sanctuary.
Rounding the pool table, I went over to the bar, grabbed a glass and a bottle of Basil Hayden, and poured three fingers’ worth. I knew I should sip and savor a good whisky, but I threw it back like water on a hot day.
Slamming the glass down, I poured another and leaned over the counter, doing a mental overview.You’re lonely, a small voice in the back of my mind called out. I’d never admit that shit to anyone. I wasn’t needy. I was successful. I had more money than I could ever ask for.
I worked my ass off. I was a kid who came from a broken home and relied on football to help me make it to the next level. I had talent… just like so many of these young kids who never had a platform or opportunity to show it. I was grateful that I did make it. I just needed a chance, an opportunity—I needed someone to believe in me.
Now, I had the chance to level the playing field and do work that was fulfilling—make a difference in the lives of our youth. Pay it forward. I had the platform to showcase these unsung voices. My work in the community brought me more joy than I could ever ask for. And yet…
Cursing, I lifted my glass and threw back the contents. I quickly poured another and downed it with a vengeance, as well. After I set the glass down, I drew my phone out of my pocket and stared hard at it before I clicked on the dating app Axel set up for me.
Clicking on my profile, I shook my head. My profile name was Tommy32. A play on my last name and my number when I played football. I scanned over the picture Axel set up for me that was taken at one of my charity events by a professional photographer. It was a picture of me from behind, staring out at the Dallas skyline. At least you couldn’t see my face. I frowned when I saw the text he’d added under the picture.I’m not here to play. I’m looking for real love.If I could telepathically strangle him right now, I would.Goddammit. What the hell was he thinking?
My phone hummed in my hand. Speak of the devil…
Axel:Worried about you and hope you’re doing okay.
I scoffed and replied.
Me:I’m fine, but the next time I see you, I’m gonna kick your butt for setting up this stupid dating profile.
Axel:Just give it a chance.
“Give it a chance, he says,” I muttered to the ceiling in exasperation.
I saw under the notification button that I already had thirty messages. I sighed gravely, dropping my phone to the counter, and made myself another drink. After taking another shot of courage, I picked up my cell, clicked on the app again, and glanced at one of the messages in my inbox.
Hello. I’m looking for my real love, too. Maybe we should meet and see if we could make this happen.
Shaking my head, I scanned through my inbox, and it looked like I’d been spammed.
“Goddammit, Axel.” I rubbed my eyes and clicked out of my inbox.
Then profiles popped up that were suggested for me. I half-assed scrolled through them, and paused when one of them caught my eye. It was an attractive young woman with the tagline:Driven girl looking for a fun time. Her name was AJ, age twenty-one.
Why is she in my feed?
“Okay, AJ, let’s see you,” I mused to myself. This ought to be interesting.
I clicked on her picture and enlarged it. Tilting my head, I studied it. And studied it some more. Taking in every detail. Fuck me. AJ was stunning.
She had long raven-black hair and deep brown eyes. And that mouth… full, rosy lips pursed into a teasing smile. Oh, what I could do to that mouth. I inwardly groaned but couldn’t stop staring. She wore a black, strapless dress that looked like it was painted on, showcasing her curvy figure. The hem barely kissed her upper thighs.
My dick twitched, and I swiped left to another photo. She was lying on the beach in a skimpy two-piece light-pink bikini. She had a dreamy smile, as if she had just been thoroughly fucked. She may as well have been nude, for as well as that pathetic bikini was doing its job. I could clearly see the swell of her heavy tits. My mouth watered at the thought of taking them into my mouth. Tasting her. I ran my eyes over her bare tanned stomach, down to the scrap of fabric that barely covered her pussy.
Yet, it also covered too much because I wanted to see what she was hiding beneath it. Was she bare? Did she have a landing strip?
I skimmed my hand down the front of my slacks and scraped my thumb along the length of my erection.
“Jesus.” I poured myself another drink and moved over to one of my leather club chairs. Settling in, I scrolled through another sexy picture where she was reclined on her back, leaning on her elbows. This time, it looked like she’d just returned from swimming because she was wet. Her dark strands were slicked back, and her skin glistened with water.
Her nipples were hard, pointing proudly and saluting me. Then I glanced down at the little scrap of fabric that molded her pussy like a second skin. “Fuck,” I growled, and my cock strained painfully against my zipper. I set my drink down, unbuckled my belt, and quickly unbuttoned my pants, ripping my zipper down to allow my shaft room to grow.
