13. J.W.

Chapter 13

J.W.

J .W. shifted at the table, tapping his foot. He had a million other things to do, but he carved a space out of his endless work to be here. He needed a reprieve and found himself more excited than he had any right to be.

J.W. knew the woman he was meeting was going to be younger, but he wasn’t aware of the exact difference. The employee had sent over her profile, background, and interests.

The kink that she was most interested in.

Everything except her exact age and a picture.

So here he was at a booth in a corner of a hotel restaurant he had never frequented before, waiting for his date , fiddling with his watch impatiently. He had arrived twenty minutes early in his haste, and now he was forced to linger for her.

Movement in his periphery drew his attention, his brow creased.

He was familiar with the beautiful woman that ran Darkest Desires , but he couldn’t understand why she was the one meeting him… Unless his original match declined.

Irritation simmered under his skin.

A waste of time.

He stood up to greet her.

“Hello...” He took her hand, squeezing it lightly. He wasn’t exactly sure what to call her.

He had only seen pictures of the woman prior. She was much smaller in person. She looked up at him through her lashes offering a striking smile. “Call me Yara, please.” She removed her hand from his, leaving a frigid emptiness behind. She gestured to the table. “Have a seat.”

J.W. was disgruntled but didn’t argue with the woman. He was still shocked by her appearance. Yara was well known in this town, except she was rarely seen out in public.

J.W. rigidly sat back down. He wasn’t accustomed to following anyone’s lead, but he found himself wanting to listen to her.

Yara took the space across from him. J.W. shifted agitatedly in his seat waiting for the woman to say something.

Anything .

Yara was a surprise. He was impatient and beginning to suspect this had in fact been a waste of his time, money, and energy.

“So how about this weather?” He threw out his go-to small talk line after she still didn’t speak.

Yara hummed, glancing around, staring out the window that took up an entire wall behind him. It was pitch-black outside.

“Was my match not able to make it?” he asked carefully after another moment, attempting to keep the disdain out of his voice and adjusting a cufflink.

“Not exactly.” The woman heaved a sigh and finally met his eyes.

For a moment he couldn’t breathe.

He was drowning.

Her eyes were beautiful, but it was the pain, the evidence of a lifetime of struggle reflected in their depths that had him clenching his fists.

It reminded him of his own eyes, it was why he so easily recognized it.

They were haunted . Listless. Teetering on the cusp of broken.

What in the hell has this woman been through?

He was feeling needlessly outraged on her behalf. He didn’t understand his visceral reaction to this woman.

To this much younger woman.

His attention shifted up and found a particularly long scar across her forehead.

Fury pulsated up his spine, skittered along his skin, settled into his stomach. A fiery rage he wasn’t sure how to put out or exactly where the feelings manifested from.

Except, that wasn’t true.

He couldn’t deny it, he was invested in Yara’s story, in what had happened to her.

He had an inherent need to know more about her, to understand what cruelties this world had pushed this woman through.

What is she doing to him?

Yara shifted uncomfortably, adjusting her hair, letting it fall forward to cover the scar.

J.W. watched as she squared her shoulders, narrowed her eyes, and physically transformed before him into a confident, threatening, businesswoman.

It was eerie watching the mask slide itself into place.

“I am your match.” Her attention was focused over his shoulder still, out the window. “If you agree to it.” Without looking she pulled a folder out of the briefcase he hadn’t observed prior.

He was too busy examining the woman herself.

He had lowered his guard, not noticing every piece of information he could.

It was a trick that got him ahead in his career.

If only it had worked the same in his personal life. If only he had seen the signs .

J.W. shut down that line of thought.

He was uncharacteristically drawn to this woman, so much so it took longer than he cared to admit to realize what she had said. “You?” he cracked out. His heart pounded a painful beat in his chest. He swallowed thickly, reaching for his glass of water and chugging a few gulps before straightening his shoulders and adjusting his tie.

Is his business partner—the man that recommended this site—setting him up for some sick joke?

“You?” This time the word came out stiffly.

“Mr. Wright, if you could please look through the folder. At the bottom is where you can sign. Due to the,” she paused folding her hands, “ nature of my proposition, you would be refunded your payment for our services.”

He stared at the woman; he couldn’t deny he was interested in her, but she was too young.

“I can see the indecision warring across your face. So, how about this? We have dinner, you think on it, and at the end of our meal we can go our separate ways?” She smiled at him before glancing over her shoulder and then returning her attention to him.

His attention found who she was looking at. A man was staring unblinkingly their way.

He knew enough about her company to also know about the infamous Kazi. The man was never more than ten feet from Yara.

J.W. weighed his options. He hadn’t really put himself out there in years and the woman before him was sexier than he had expected, her smile lighting up her face in an almost iridescent way.

Additionally, he didn’t really have the time to go out on the socially acceptable number of dates to fuck, and he really needed to get laid. Typically, he stuck to keeping his company running and staying as busy as possible to forget the tragedy that hit him years ago, but he could tell he needed something to give. The stress had been affecting him more than he cared to admit, and his business partner had noticed.

Hence, this meeting.

J.W. forced himself to relax his shoulders, releasing some of the tension stored there.

Yara was watching him with a pensive gaze, her lips pursed into the remnants of a pout.

He appraised Yara again. She was an objectively beautiful woman that was showing clear interest in him.

That wanted him to fuck her.

To breed her. To fill her with his cum and use her as he pleased.

“So”–she raised an eyebrow, gesturing at the table–“dinner?”

It was really a no brainer, he was already here, he might as well enjoy it. “With pleasure.”

To say he was intrigued would be an understatement, but even more than that? He couldn’t stop imagining her stomach swollen, pregnant with his child.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His first and only long-term relationship had ruined any plans of future children. The vasectomy was evidence of that.

But even still, a man could dream. Could fantasize.