Can I Come Over Read online Whitney G.

Categories Genre: Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Whitney G. Advertisement1

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“No, he lives in Spokane, Washington.”

“Then it sounds like you should give your dad a call and ask if he can foot the bill since he lives like forty minutes outside of there.”

I’d honestly considered that, but I knew that would lead to him dragging me to one of his corporate parties. That, and his wife would definitely want to take pictures with me.

My mother will lose her shit if she sees them posted on Facebook.

“You can take the Mega-Bus,” Daniella said. “That or a train, you know? That way, if he’s hideous, you can simply catch one the same day instead of waiting on a flight.”

“Good point.”

“Great, now help me,” she said, laughing. “The Beauty and the Beast’s doggy-style scene can’t clean itself.”

Sighing, I rolled the vacuum out of the room and used every free moment to look up bus and train tickets.

By the time I completed my search, I realized that the only busses bound for the West Coast were scheduled for next week.

I had no other choice but to let Ryan know.

Letter Topic: Meeting You in Person

Dear Ryan,

This will probably make me sound like a fraud, but I assure you that I’m not.

I can’t afford to come to Spokane via plane this weekend BUT I can take the Mega-Bus in a week and a half.

I am NOT asking you for any money, just letting you know that all of the last-minute flights are completely unaffordable now.

I hope you won’t be upset about the date change/think this is an excuse.

Off to buy a Mega-Bus ticket.

(Well, after you respond and let me know that this is okay.)

Bella

Letter Topic: Re: Meeting You in Person

Dear Bella,

You do sound like a scam artist, but I’ll take your word that you’re not.

Since you don’t want to give me your real name until we meet, I’m not sure that there’s a way for me to send the money to a verified bank account.

Then again, you did mention having bitcoin before...

If you give me your account number, I’ll send you five-thousand dollars in bitcoin—provided that you agree to fly first class.

Don’t buy a Mega-Bus ticket,

(I’d rather you get here this weekend, on me)

Ryan

PS—In baggage claim, in the Executive Transportation Zone, I’ll be holding a sign that says, “Bella—Good to finally meet you seven months later…”

NINE

Bella/Christina

That weekend

I stepped off the plane at Spokane International and felt as if I was gliding on air. The complimentary wine from first class was still coursing through my veins, calming my nerves with every step I took.

Slipping into the closest restroom, I made my way in front of a mirror and looked over myself one last time. I wanted to make sure that there was no question as to what I wanted to do after dinner.

My curls were smoothed and pulled into a low ponytail, my lips were coated in a shimmering shade of pink, and my light grey, low cut dress showed off the curve of my C-cup breasts.

I pulled it down a little further, right above my areolas—just to make my intentions super clear.

Spinning around, I made sure that I’d torn the tags off my complementing red stilettos, and that the oversized bag I’d purchased for this trip still matched.

My body was buzzing in anticipation of all the naughty things Ryan wrote in that sex scene, and I was hoping that he could deliver on each and every one of them.

Thoughts of feeling his cock deep inside of me had dominated my mind all week, and I’d been so distracted that I nearly forgot to hit publish on My Hot Neighbor.

I hoped like hell that he was attractive in person, but I was bracing myself for the chance that we’d catch sight of each other and recoil, awkwardly admitting that this wasn’t meant to be. That we were better off returning to penning our weekly letters with no face to face contact.

Then again, if this man was a mere five out of ten, I was fucking him. Period.

Stepping out of the restroom, I made my way through Concourse C and headed straight for baggage claim. I pushed my way through the crowds, making a beeline for the Executive Transportation Zone.

As I approached the line of tuxedoed drivers who were holding mini whiteboards, I squinted and tried to find my name.

Rachel Vine. Ashley Carrington. Janet Alwyn…Bella?

No, you’re here for a Bella Turner. THANK. GOD.

I made it to the end of the line and realized that no one was holding a sign for me. Then I noticed that there was another line on the other side of the main carousel.

Taking a deep breath, I made my way over and started looking at the new set of white boards.

Alex Mitchell. Tamisha Draper. Tiffany—

“Christina?” A deep voice suddenly called my real name, snapping me out of my search.

Confused, I looked up and down the line, catching sight of a familiar face.


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