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  I blinked several times, willing myself to stand up, but I slumped back down in my chair, feeling tears pool in my eyes.

Every memory coming back to haunt me like a form of motherfucking torture.

Just like I knew it would.

I needed it to stop.

I wanted to scream.

To scream until my throat went dry. To scream until my voice-box collapsed on me, and my lungs wouldn't allow me to scream anymore.

I saw a woman on the other side of the bar lock her eyes with mine. She had jet black hair, big blue eyes, a pointed nose, creamy skin, plump, juicy pink lips that would look good wrapped around my fucking cock. Big thighs, big tits, a big ass. Thick and busty, just how I liked my women.

Maybe fucking would be my only solution right now.

Fucking and forgetting.

She walked over to me, in those tall skyscraper fuck-me high-heels, and she was wearing a tiny outfit, leaving little to the imagination. Just thinking about her in her lacy bra and knickers, wearing just her high-heels...

Was enough to push me over the fucking edge.

"Hey," she smiled, pouting, playing around with her hair with her finger.

"Hey," I replied bluntly, looking at her up and down with a predatory regard. My eyes darkening with desire the more I drunk in her big frame, her beautiful fucking face.

"You on your own, too?" she asked, biting her lip.

"What does it look like?" I sneered, folding my arms.

"Want me to keep you company?"

"Look darling, I don't do small talk," I snarled. "We both know full well you only came over here for one thing. So how about you quit the angel act and cut to the fucking chase?"

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