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Insatiable 2 (Insatiable #2)

By:J.D. Hawkins

my cock.

"Oh shit," I say, as she tickles and teases my balls. "That's it, right there. A little more. Good. Fuck, that's good, Lizzie. All the way up, Lizzie."

Suddenly I feel like a freight train just hit me in the back. The car skids for a full two seconds. I slam forward so hard I hit my head on the dashboard, imprinting a finely German-engineered glove compartment texture onto my forehead.

Valerie turns to me with a look that doesn't look like a hungry predator anymore – it looks like an angry one.

"Lizzie? I told you my name like forty seconds ago."

I look at her with incredulity and a throbbing pain in my cranium.

"Who cares about names? Lizzie's my … dog. Honest."

She shakes her head and nods outside. "This is just too weird. Get out." The door locks pop and she unbuckles my seatbelt with a rough tug.

"What the hell?! I don't even know where I am!"

"I don't care. I should have known something was up with you. Only the freaks stay 'til three AM. Get out!"

I'm about to plead my case again when she exhibits a flexibility I'll never fully take advantage of, raises her leg, and jams a high heel into my thigh.

"Fuck! Ow!"

"Get out!" she says, jabbing me out of the car like she's scaring raccoons out of her trash cans.

I open the door and stumble on the hard pavement.

Valerie gives me one last look, shakes her head, and says, "Talk to me when you get your shit together," then revs the Porsche into the night like she's trying to beat a lap time.

I stumble to my feet, clutching my painful forehead, and check my clothes.

So this is how the mighty fall. With their dick out on a random LA street. Is this what it's like for normal people? Losing their minds over women they can't have? Finding themselves alone and unfulfilled at the end of the night? Not knowing what the hell they're going to do about the emptiness inside?

Lizzie leaving was devastating, but taking all my mojo with her? That's fucking terrifying.

Chapter 2


When I get out of my car and walk into work, I notice that everybody is smiling at me. It's not until I get in the elevator that I realize why – I'm smiling so hard myself that it's like somebody painted it on me. In fact, I've been smiling since this morning, when I got up early. All that money spent on replacing broken alarm clocks with even louder, more annoying ones and it turns out that all I needed to wake up without feeling like an exhumed corpse was to have a good enough reason.

I definitely have a reason now - his name is James, and since I met him yesterday I've been walking on air.

Waking up early is pretty awesome, too. It means I can avoid the lines at Starbucks, take some time in choosing my outfit, (instead of relying on my usual method of wearing the last thing I tried on before I really have to get going), and most of all, avoid bumping into my ex-boyfriend Brody in the elevator.

The only person in the elevator this morning is Linda, my colleague at the PR firm I work at. She's a thin woman in her forties. Though she looks good for her age, she's got the kind of cynical face that makes me think she's a few cosmopolitans away from telling me a tragic story about how she nearly made it in Hollywood.

"Morning, Linda," I beam, trying not to sound annoyingly chirpy and failing totally.

"Why are you smiling so much?" she asks, like somebody might arrest me for it. "A smile like that can mean only two things. Either you met a cute guy, or you found God. And I don't see you wearing a crucifix."

I laugh a little. "I'll tell you about it at lunch."

"You don't have to, that look in your face says everything I need to know."

The elevator doors open and we step into the office.

"Anyway, you're not having lunch today," she says as she sets off for the other side of the office. "The boss has got something planned for you."

I frown with confusion for just a second, before making my way to my own desk. Then the smile's back, as much as I try to hide it – I'm gonna get hired for a toothpaste commercial if I keep this up.

Is this what life is like for normal people? Not having to deal with oppressive boyfriends who treat you like a footnote in their lives? Just rolling with the opportunities that life throws your way? Going to work, dating a nice guy, having people smile back, and having a great time doing it? If it is, then the only regret I have is that it took me this long to find out.

The phone rings, and when I see that it's James my smile reaches full capacity. There aren't many guys who would call so soon after a date – and James and I had drinks just last night. I don't know why – maybe most girls think it's clingy, overbearing. Personally I like it – I've had enough games and pretenses to last me a lifetime, so having the honesty and the balls to call the day after a date is just what I need right now.

"Hey little leaguer," I say.

"Hey slam dunk," James replies.

James coaches a little league team in his spare time; I like to watch basketball games whenever I eat ice cream … You had to be there.

"I had an awesome time last night," he says, and I let myself blush a little. "I learned so much about the intricacies of highlighter colors."

I have a thing about highlighters. Again, you had to be there.

"Well we only just touched the surface, you know," I giggle.

"Oh, sure," he laughs back. "I was actually thinking that you could continue the lecture tonight, at dinner perhaps?"

Right about now, I know I should say no. I don't know why, but every girlfriend I ever had, and every dating book I lazily flipped through in a bookstore tells you to 'keep them keen, play it mean.' You know what though? Screw that. Like I said, no more games, no more pretenses.

"Sounds great. Pick me up around seven?" I say, glowing.

"Seven, then. Do you know what you want yet? Or do you