Sex And Love

11:00 p.m.

"Jesus, Mercy! Just march over there, throw your panties in his lap, and fuck his writer's block away!" Yvette urged, pointing toward the man at the bar with such enthusiasm that I almost spilled my drink.

I choked on my drink, the burning liquid flying up my nose, singeing everything in its path. "Fucking hell, Yvette. I'm pretty sure that's not how it works!! You can't just hump someone's writer's block away." I cried out, knowing there was no way for it to work. It was about the inspiration, not the perspiration between two people.

"You never know until you try," Amanda piped in from across the booth, her eyes never leaving her brightly lit phone screen. The sound of her nails tapping against the glass screen added a rhythmic beat to the conversation.

Yvette licked her lips, her brown eyes scanning the man at the bar like a hawk eyeing its prey. She looked him up and down, not even trying to be subtle. He was slumped over, nursing what I assumed was his fifth drink of the night, the weight of his untamed energy reflected in his posture. The kind of man who looked like he could break hearts and just as easily pick up the pieces again, without so much as a second thought. The very type of man every sexual being in a 50-foot radius wanted, but couldn't have. "I would..." She breathed, her voice thick with lust.

"Too bad you're almost married!" Amanda interrupted, shaking her head with an exaggerated sigh, holding her diamond ring in the air like a trophy, pouting like a child who had been denied a candy bar.

Yvette rolled her eyes dramatically, but the gleam in her eyes never faltered. "Aaron better appreciate how much I love him right now," she muttered, lowering her hand with a resigned sigh.

I snorted, rolling my eyes as I drained the last of my drink. "You're the lucky one. I still haven't found a dick in six months," I grumbled. The coil of heat in my abdomen was starting to make me twitch, my body yearning for the relief I couldn't quite reach.

I took another sip from my straw, trying not to choke this time, the coldness of the ice only making my need feel more intense. There was nothing worse than an unsatisfied desire, especially when you were surrounded by people who had no problem getting what they wanted.

"Yeah-ya know-fuck Neil for what he did to you, and fuck him for... well, who he is! But you've got to move on, explore bigger and better specimens." Yvette grinned, wiggling her eyebrows mischievously as she eyed the man at the bar again. Her gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary, clearly imagining all the ways she could have her fun with him. "Look at him," she purred, "He's everything. Those broad shoulders, that jawline, the way he holds himself... Mmm."

"Stop it," I snapped, glancing at the man in question. "I mean-he's... he's C.J. Cole. He's untouchable, Yvette." I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, pushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear as I turned my attention back to my friends.

"I would give anything to know what it's like to be on the receiving end of those eyes," Yvette said with a dreamy look in her eyes, her tone dropping an octave lower.

I gulped down another sip of my drink, the burn of alcohol masking the heat creeping up my neck. "Wouldn't it be a conflict of interest?" I muttered, trying to deflect the conversation to a safer topic. "I mean, I work for his publisher. I edit his books..." I trailed off, hoping they would see the logic in my excuses and drop the subject.

Amanda raised an eyebrow, finally lowering her phone and looking at me like I had lost my mind. "Girl, you don't need to get so technical. It's not like you're going to write his next bestseller-wait, are you?" She grinned. "Cause that could be fun. Imagine how many words you could help him write with those legs of yours."