Epilogue 3 Cooper
Cooper
My phone buzzed, and against my better judgment, I glanced down at the screen. It was Quinn. It was always Quinn these days.
Gavin never bothered contacting me anymore. Not that I could blame him. The rift between us had grown into something so vast and unmanageable, I didn’t know how we’d ever climb our way out.
I didn’t bother replying to my brother’s message, because honestly? I didn’t have an answer to his question. I didn’t know when I was going home. Being surrounded by palm trees and ocean breezes suited me just fine right now. And the girls with their sun-kissed shoulders and bikini lines were working overtime to keep me distracted.This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.
Boston would always be my home, and my business was there. While I knew I’d have to return eventually, I wasn’t in any rush.
“Who was that?” the blonde crouched between my thighs asked.
“Did I tell you to stop?” I frowned down at her.
She bit her lip, watching me through heavily made-up eyes.
“Suck my cock. Make me come.” Those were the words I said, but the words I meant were make me forget.
The naked blonde kneeling in front me went back to work, tasting the broad head of my cock before drawing it deeper into her mouth.
“That’s it, princess.”
I called every girl princess now. The word stung the first few times leaving my lips, which was all the more reason to use it. The need to work Emma out from under my skin was immense. And what better way to cast her memory away than to pretend she never existed. She wasn’t my princess, and neither were any of the others.
And I was no prince—I was just a lonely bachelor who used to believe in love.
But these days, I was done being the nice guy. It hadn’t gotten me anywhere. And women, it turned out, wanted the asshole. My experiment with Gavin had proven that. And no, I wasn’t going to pretend to be an asshole simply because I was willing to play the part.
Sweet little Emma Bell had actually turned me into one.
She had broken me.
I hated to admit defeat, but Emma fucking Bell—excuse me, Emma Kingsley now—had turned me into a shell of the man I once was.
It was my own fault. I’d known from the beginning that I was playing with fire, knew she’d be perfect for my brother and had done my best to push them together. And the thing was, I was actually happy for the motherfucker. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell to see them together.
Now it was my rules, my way.
“Is this how you like it?” the blonde asked, seeming to sense my distant thoughts.
I tilted my head back, closing my eyes. “Deeper.”
Losing myself in the pleasure, in the wet, lapping heat of her tongue, I tried to push everything else from my brain. I had no plans to return home, no plans to do anything other than this—get drunk and take home a different woman, night after night. This would be my life. No, it wouldn’t be rich, or deep, or all that fulfilling, but it was what I had. What I deserved now.
My phone rang again, this time with Gavin’s name, and my stomach clenched. Fucking Gavin. What could he possibly want?
The realization that I’d be heading back to Boston much sooner than anticipated settled over me like a dark cloud, and I steeled myself for what was to come.