Fighting for Flight by JB Salsbury (easy readers TXT) 📕

she can lead around by his dick. Her porn-star looks and willing sexual prowess turned on so bright, she’s hoping to blind me so I’ll think I’m in love. So fucking predictable.

“No. Yours.”

I’d never take a woman to my place. Seems to me if a guy brings a woman home she suddenly feels like she can set up house. Before he knows it, she’s making breakfast and stuffing his bathroom drawers with tampons. Poor shmuck looking for a one-night stand finds himself with a live-in wife. When she finally does leave, the guy’s fucked because she knows where he lives. He never calls, but she doesn’t care. She’ll just show up at his house or, even worse, drive by or park across the street and stalk him.

No thanks.

“Fine.” Her reply sounds deflated. The excitement tarnished, but I can tell, this chick doesn’t give up. “I’ll meet you out front. Give me five minutes?” She perks up, her thin eyebrows high on her forehead, anticipating my answer.

I nod.

With a long, firm grind of her pelvis on my crotch, she disappears into the crowd. Blake has his tongue down the throat of a busty redhead.

“Hey, bro. I’m gonna bounce.” I say it loud enough for him to hear.

He doesn’t break his lip-lock, but waves me off with one hand while skillfully sliding a fifty-dollar bill into the girl’s g string. And they say they aren’t prostitutes.

I down the dregs of my beer, throw some cash on the table, and head for the door. The club is busy for a Tuesday night, and the bar is three-deep, standing room only. People move out of my way a little quicker than usual, probably due to the don’t-fuck-with-me look this headache is giving my face.

Shoving through the club’s front door, I’m hit with desert air and cigarette smoke. The flashing neon sign makes everyone’s skin look pink. I scan the parking lot and consider bolting. Maybe a hot shower and good night’s sleep are all I need.

Just then, a small hand grabs my elbow. Too late. The stripper looks up at me from under her eyelashes. She licks her lips and presses her tits against my arm. She slides her hand into my palm and laces her fingers with mine. “I hope you’re ready for some fun. One night with me and you’ll be begging—”

I pull my hand from hers. “Where’s your car? I’ll follow you.”

Her eyes flash with something that looks like disappointment.

Chicks and their inflated ideas about romance. This isn’t a date. This isn’t an all-night sexual rendezvous. This is simple: Itch. Scratch.

She nods her head in the direction of her car. Feeling a little bad for my brush off, I walk her to it. I’m not a complete asshole.

She settles in and turns the ignition. I take off to my truck, telling myself that going home with . . . Ah hell, I don’t even know her name.

Oh well. Won’t be the first time I bang a nameless face.

It’s a short drive to her apartment. I back my truck into a spot in the visitor’s section to ensure a quick departure. She waits for me at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m right up here.” She runs her hand down my chest hooking my jeans with her fingertips.

“Don’t.” I remove her hand.

Her eyes narrow before they soften into something more sexual. It’s as if she wants to be pissed at me, but doesn’t want to lose the prize.

“If control is your thing, sexy, just say the word.” She spins around and I follow her up to her place.

Once inside, she throws her bag on the couch and walks back to what I assume is her bedroom. I head towards the glowing clock in her kitchen. It’s almost midnight. Pulling a condom from my wallet, I vow to be home and in bed by one.

I walk down the short hallway to the room with the light on. She’s lying on the bed, naked. The visual alone has my body charged and ready.

“You want to hit the light?” I work the button fly of my jeans.

Her face twists in anger. “What is it with you?” She props herself up on her elbows. “No touching. No foreplay. No lights! What do you think this is? Some quickie with the stripper?”

My hands freeze at my fly. Is she kidding? Of course that’s what this is. I shrug. No use in leading the girl on. “Yeah.”

Her eyes sweep my body from head to toe then back again. “Whatever.” She rolls to the side and clicks the light, plunging us in darkness.

Much better.

I focus on the task before me: Meeting a need, no connection, no feeling anywhere above my waist. A goal set before me, a finish line that I’m racing to breach so I can go home and get some sleep.

She moves for a kiss, and I turn away. She tries to engage me in dirty talk. It’s easy to ignore. Finally, she gives up, allowing our bodies to take what they want.

Still completely clothed, except for the fly of my jeans, I stand from her bed to leave. This girl probably has something more to offer a guy. But that guy ain’t me.

Just the thought of having some needy chick hanging on my arm, making me buy her crap, taking up my time with her petty issues about girl shit makes me shiver. I need to get the hell out of here.

“Will you call me, you know, if you ever want to hang out again?” Her small voice reaches my now-sated brain.

Fuck. This is uncomfortable.

I grab my phone and press a few buttons. “What’s your number?” And your name. She rattles off seven digits, and I pretend to program them into my phone.

“Right, I got it. Go to sleep.”

I have a Jiminy Cricket moment with my conscience. “Thanks for . . . that.”

She mumbles something I can’t quite make out and I slip from her room.

~*~

Raven

“Holy crud.” Shooting straight up in bed, I cover my ears. “Stupid