#TripleX by Christine Zolendz, Angelisa Stone Read Free Book Online

of my decay in confidence was this strange reprehensible nonsense that was being mistaken as flirting. He licked his lips. Dear God, what am I doing here? And why in the world was I liking it?
    I read once that people cheat, because of 20%. Meaning, say your husband gives you 80% of what you need or want, but you’re still missing 20% of something—whatever that may be. Well someone, anyone, can come and swoop right in if he’s offering you that 20% you’re missing. Hell, I went into my marriage missing way more than 20%. I went in missing about 40%, maybe even 50% of what I needed. I went in anyway. I traipsed down that aisle believing that the other 50% would come at some point in our marriage. Little did I know that less and less was going to come in my marriage. But right now, what I needed most was some validation, some confidence, anything to make me feel worthy—worthy of anything better than I currently had.
    “You want me to take you into the back and show you how damn sexy you can be?”
    Ummm.
    Before he finished his question, we were in the back, in some sort of dark, dirty, janitorial closet. His wiry, coarse beard and moustache crashed against my mouth in a hunger that no man has ever felt for me. He was ravenous and his only hunger could only be satiated with me. My body ached for his voracious appetite. I wanted him to feed on me until he couldn’t bear another morsel of my heated flesh.
    Savagely, he ripped my shirt off before feasting on my breasts and tearing my bra from my chest. I cried out in desire—the desire to be wanted and ravished. With his mouth on my breast, he groaned, “Darlin’, I’m going to show you how hot you are.”
    Then, he stepped back to unbutton his pants. I opened my eyes to take in the scenery around me, the room in which my sexual awakening would take place. The closet smelled of sweat and bleach, and something akin to curdled yogurt. There was not much room inside, and the dingy light bulb above my head swung in lazy circles, causing a strange dance club effect. Mops and brooms and bottles of cleaning fluid haphazardly littered the shelves. Something very large and hairy slowly scuttled across my line of view. Its thin tail dragged behind it.
    My skin crawled, and my bones shuddered in horror. It all felt so wrong, and not in that good, dirty, one-night-stand with a spank-happy Christian Grey kind of wrong way.
    My back was against the far wall. I looked frantically for a Haz-mat suit, because that was the only way I could truly get through this viral-infested disaster. I tried to take in long, calming breaths, but all I could do was stare at this man’s penis.
    Oh my God. That was a penis!
    I was staring at him right in the penis. Penis to eye. Eye to penis.
    “What’s your name, Darlin?”
    Penis. Penis. Penis. Strange man’s penis.
    He growled out a low chuckle, “Name’s Billy Catch.”
    Mr. Catch seemed to be a big fan of the natural male look. Yep. No manscaping for Mr. Catch—just a full Amazon forest of bug-infested wild growth, surrounding an unnaturally shaped penis. Someone needed to have a sit down and share the importance of crotch maintenance to this guy.
    Now, in theory, one-night stands seem like a pretty awesome idea, especially when reading them in my favorite fictional books, but the actual physical situation ? Not so much. Words that came to mind: Terrifying. Diseases. Bugs. Ax murders.
    Orgasm? Dignity?
    Orgasm? Disease?
    Orgasm? Death?
    Sweat poured from every pore on my body. My chest was heaving as I looked for a way to escape. There was only one window in the far corner that looked way too small for my big butt to fit through. Billy was closing in on me, strange bent penis in one hand, sharp bloody ax in another. This would be a really horrible way to die .
    “Here you go, Hon.” The waitress slid a pile of cheesy nachos in front of me, snapping me out of my daydream. The only ravenous hunger that was about to be placated right now was