A Perfect Ten (Forbidden Men #5)

Sucking in a nice, refreshing...eww! Who the hell was spraying such rank perfume?

I opened my eyes and immediately frowned at the three ladies gathered in front of the mirrors. They just happened to be three of the very four whores—I mean, fine, upstanding young women—who’d been huddled around Oren mere minutes ago.

Awesome.

Maybe we could all get together sometime and just have us a slumber party.

“I still can’t believe he picked you, you lucky bitch,” the girl teasing her hair complained as she puckered her mouth and studied her lipstick job.

“I know,” the one leaning in to examine the blackheads on her nose added before she tried to pop one. “I was totally feeling this vibe between us too. I was so sure he’d pick me tonight.”

“You just...suck,” muttered the third one who was, yes, still applying that awful perfume. “I’ve never had him before. It should’ve been my turn.”

Behind one stall door, a toilet flushed, and the fourth whore appeared as she opened the door. “Face it, ladies. I simply rule. Ten’s always preferred me.”

At the mention of Oren—or rather his stupid nickname everyone called him—I froze and focused on her a little harder. So, she was the chosen one for this evening, huh?

I hated her.

I really, really hated her.

“I heard he only does it in the dark,” perfume girl said, her eyes wide with wonder.

My mouth fell open. Say what? I should not be listening to this crap. So, I edged in a little closer, hungry for more.

“Mmm hmm,” the winner, I guess we were calling her, said. “He’s almost weird about it. But it’s so kinky you can’t really care, because, oh my God, he makes up for the lack of sight by using all his other senses.”

I almost whimpered as I imagine it. Oren learning me by touch, by taste, by scent. I shivered, growing a little warm under my clothes until the winner ruined the moment by speaking again.

“If you know what I mean.” She smirked and wiggled her eyebrows.

Yes, honey, we all knew what you meant. But...hell. Listening to them talk about Oren’s sexual preferences was...probably really forbidden, but even as it chipped off pieces of my heart to think of him doing those things with them, it still made my stomach tighten and my entire body tingle embarrassingly.

Stupid body.

“And it’s always from behind. I’ve never talked to anyone who hasn’t gotten it from him doggie style.”

I clamped my legs together, because hello, they were talking about my Oren...in different positions. Yes, it was disheartening to hear he had such a following that they all knew his...proclivities. I couldn’t believe I was half a second from being in love with such a freaking man-whore. But damn, I still wanted him to take me from behind like that.

“I’m supposed to meet him at his place at midnight tonight,” the chosen one announced as she began to check herself in the mirror right along with the other three, fluffing her boobs up into her cleavage. “It’s always so mysterious and thrilling when I go there.”

“He leaves his apartment unlocked,” pimple pincher explained to perfume girl, “and you’re supposed to just walk right in and down a dark hall to his dark bedroom. You never know if someone’s going to jump out and grab you.”

The chosen one fanned herself. “And then he does jump out and grab you.”

All four of them giggled and then sighed. I rolled my eyes, deciding I’d had enough.

“I’m sorry.” I waved my hand to get their attention. “But are you guys talking about...Oren Tenning?”

Four faces turned my way. I’m sure they found me lacking in my comfy blue jeans and V-neck T-shirt. I never dolled myself up. In fact, I purposely dressed down to avoid attention from the opposite sex. I hadn’t really fixed myself up since the school dance last year where Sander had invited me to be his date, way back when he’d still been kind and sweet. But it turned out he hadn’t ever planned on taking me to that stupid dance. I’d spent all the money I’d scrimped together and saved over the years to buy the dress, and after two hours of beautifying myself for him, he’d taken me straight to the infamous make-out spot to get lucky in the backseat of his Dodge Challenger. Not since then had I used clothes, makeup, or perfume to impress anyone.

“We sure are, honey. Do you know him?” Perfume girl sniffed and tipped up her face in a haughty kind of way, as if she couldn’t believe I was good enough to even associate with him.

“Oh...” I gave her a brief, tight smile. “Barely.” I bet I knew him a hell of a lot better than she did.