Jake's POV
My head hurt. Hurt like I’d been sucker punched by an I-beam that had fallen from 20 stories high, hurt. Or maybe it was more like one of those chandeliers on the Titanic, or hell, even the Titanic itself.
And my mouth tasted like ass.
I cracked one eyelid open and surveyed the damages. Usually when I woke up like this, there was always one or two, maybe even three, whores that I needed to get rid of fast before they became too clingy.
Thank God I was in my office at Scarlet Lotus…alone. I guess that cunt, Taylor, took the hint when I told her to get the f*ck out last night. At least I thought I’d told her to get out. I remembered f*cking her…in the ass, because hell yeah, I had to take that trip down Memory Lane. Too bad Styles hadn’t been there to see it. The look on his face when he saw that Taylor was my date to the ball was priceless, just not as priceless as it could have been. Probably because the lucky bastard had Miss Alex Clarks on his arm, or I should probably say she had him on her arm…literally. That cuff bracelet she wore said it all; he was marking her as his own personal property, which just cinched the fact that I had to have her. I just needed to get my game plan together…because nabbing a woman like Alex Clarks was going to take more than what empty promises and a fat bank account normally did for lesser women.
I stretched and felt every glorious muscle in my awesomeness of a body groan in protest. One thing was for damn sure, the cushy leather couch that I’d had imported from Italy wasn’t doing anything for my bad back. Too much f*cking in my short lifetime had really done a number on it. But hell, as long as I was good at producing the orgasms, I was going to keep doing it. My orgasms, not theirs. Hey, I never gave any guarantees; when I promised a good time, I always meant it for myself, not them. If the flavor of the night messed around and didn’t find some way to get herself off while I gave her the gift of my c*ck, it was her problem, not mine.
I willed my head to stop pounding as I sat up and stretched some more to hopefully get some of the kinks out of my neck and back. Goddamn, I was sore. My head started spinning, but after a moment or two, I was able to get the floor to stop moving long enough to stand. Putting one foot in front of the other, I made a zigzag line to my bathroom – admittedly, I was still a little drunk - and grabbed the bottle of pain killers I kept in the cabinet. After popping one in my mouth – hell, two for good measure - I ran cold water in my cupped hands and drank out of them because I didn’t keep a damn cup in my office bathroom.
When I looked in the mirror, I beamed at myself. Any other motherf*cker who had had the same night I had would look like sh*t, but not me. I always looked good to go. I reached for the toothbrush that I kept there, because damnit I had a pretty f*cking smile that had to be maintained, and made my pearls gleam before jumping in the shower. A quick rub down and towel off and I headed to my personal closet to grab a fresh set of threads. Yeah, I kept a wardrobe there because someone in my position, and who looked as pretty as me, always had to keep up appearances.
The shower sobered me up quite a bit, which was a good thing because I had a very important appointment that I needed to keep and I needed to be fresh. One glance at my Rolex let me know that I still had plenty of time. Not that it would matter; when Jake Black was involved, time stood still.
I was shocked to say the least when I walked out of my office and saw Styles stepping off the elevator. He looked up and groaned when he saw me as well. Yeah, I guess it really sucked to have to live in my shadow. I was always one step ahead of him and, come hell or high water, I always would be…until the day he turned over his half of the company to yours truly.
