Pretty Bitches

A NOVEL BY: APRIL EZELL WILSON

Copyright 

April Ezell Wilson Pretty Bitches

© 2013, AEW Self publishing ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.  Wilson, Ezell April.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

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CHAPTER 1: GLENLIVET

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CHAPTER 2: THE DATE

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CHAPTER 3: BLACKOUT

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CHAPTER 4: FARMHOUSE

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CHAPTER 5: I WILL

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CHAPTER 6: MEET THE GUYS

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CHAPTER 7: ANOTHER BITCH

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CHAPTER 8: I DO

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CHAPTER 9: OH YES WE DID

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CHAPTER 10: GOODBYE

CHAPTER ONE: GLENLIVET

It was one of those epic hangover mornings. You know when you open your eyes and want to pull off your head. Then when that delicious feeling sinks in you are hit with the horrific bits and pieces of what could be the worst memory in history. Did I really fucking do that? That is usually a question that I find myself asking the morning after.

I said what? There’s another famous one I frequent.

Ahhh, the lovely feelings you are rammed with after a night of unadulterated drinking and possible sex? Wait, what? Who in the fuck is in my bed and how did I get home?

I sigh
ed and reached for the water that was missing from my end table and swore like hell because it was gone. That means I’m going to have to actually move my legs, which I am not entirely certain are still attached to my body. Everything hurt with each heartbeat. The ceiling was fairly still but the rest of the room was a thrumming strobe because of the separate heartbeat behind my eyes.

That’s it; I’m really never drinking again—until five o’clock because I’m meeting Lila at Pressed to hear about her new fuck mate. That’s what we call them—men that have nothing to offer other than a spectacular orgasm and zero pillow talk, partially because they have an average IQ of a hamster. We are too busy with work to worry about feigned relationships. If I wanted to talk about my feelings or the fact I’m more fucked up than a virgin at a whorehouse I would gladly stalk my therapist even more that I already do.

He’s just going to have to get his ass in gear and get outta my bed. I have to be in the office in an hour and let’s be honest; I’m going to need some prep work to even get my tits in a bra today.

I slap my hand across his chest. I know, not the most pleasant way to wake up but this is mission critical and he just tried to sink my boat.

I heard a loud gasp through his teeth and I chanced a glance over. Hmm, actually not too bad, Em. He’s got that recently fucked hair but that face could be on the cover of next months issue. I took a moment to stare at his tanned pretty face. And my, my what a face it was. Too bad I can’t remember if he was a good lay. Oh well, as pleasant as this little tête-à-tête has been he needed to roll on out.

I slapped again because apparently the first one wasn’t clear enough. This time I put some punch to it and ended with a few claw marks across his perfectly waxed chest.

That one got his attention. “Hey, what the fuck?” He rolled to his side and fisted his hands in his eyes while he let out a huge yawn.

“You need to get moving, sugar; I have to be at work shortly and I’m not going to be late, even for that pretty face.” I patted him several times on the arm and twisted my whisky soaked body from the silk sheets and made my way to the bathroom. Moments later I am greeted by said stranger perched in my doorway while I am having my morning pee.

Ok, really, is he fucking kidding me? “Uh, the front door is at the other end of the house, use it.” I knew I was being unnecessarily bitchy but he was now encroaching my very personal space and I had my limit.

“Whoa, babe. Take it easy, I’m just enjoying the view, gorgeous.” He ran his eyes from tip to tail on me then continued, “Last night was pretty fucking spectacular lady, and you have moves I didn’t know existed. I am totally into those whips you brought out, I never knew I’d like to be handcuffed but you made it my new favorite thing.” He licked his lips and gave me that, ‘I fucked you hard’ face.

I rolled my eyes. I cannot believe I brought out my good stash. He wasn’t even worth the trouble of disinfecting everything now. Dammit. I gotta get a handle on myself. I’m not really sure what has been going on in my fog-laden brain lately but it sure as hell wasn’t in the game.

“Yea, well take that as your parting gift. Hope you enjoyed it. Make sure you pull the front door completely closed when you leave, it has a habit of sticking.” I waved a dismissive hand and continued the wipe process.

He stood there with the oddest look of incredulity and flipped me off as he turned from the door. I muttered, “classy” under my breath and moved to the shower. This was my favorite part of the day—washing the guilt away.

After two tugs on the spastic zipper of my ridiculously expensive dress I stuffed my feet in my Gucci stilettos and walked out the door.

Elliot was waiting by the curb as he does every morning. He has caught some verbal beat downs and morning after rants far too many times. I give him a raise about once a month. Hell, he fucking deserves it for the shit he puts up with—me.

“Morning Miss Landon.” His voice was like a raspy wasp with a constant buzz. It annoyed the shit out of me.

“Elliot.” I swung my newly electrolysis leg over the seat and folded into the back.

The ride to the office takes me through the hell that is Times Square. If I could burn it off the map, I would. The usual tourists litter the streets and hamper my commute. I swear even more, which is incredible. They just can’t get the premise behind ‘my car will run your ass over, idiot’ if you step into the fucking street one more time for a useless scenic photo of a bum on a park bench or a trust fund baby walking her silly stupid mutt.

Finally, just as my nerves had been tested to the brink we pulled in front of the building. Elliott, opened my door and I was promptly greeted by Ed. Ed is a character and a fixture in my life. He’s quite possibly the best doorman ever and he gives me my shit right back.

“Morning there, Landon.” He is the only person on this earth that I allow to call me that.

I threw him my wicked smile. “Well, looks like you actually made an effort this morning, Ed. What is that, bourbon or stale sex, I smell?”

He gave me a loud cackle and opened the door to the building. The huge Golden sign blasts me every morning and I swear it is better than sex sometimes.

“Vogue.”

I give it a good sex sigh and continue down the long elaborate hallway leading to the elevators. I pressed the thirty-second floor and thumbed through the proposed layout and stories for next months issue.

I head the creative division and consult with every facet of the magazine. It is, most days, heart attack inducing stress with deadlines and last minute decisions but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I passed Jenni (yeah, with a fucking i) and turn for the double doors that bare Emberly Landon.

Melanie, my secretary, was dutifully typing away and fisting the phone at the same time. I loved her juggling skills and rapt attention to detail. I couldn’t function without her. Now granted, she’s as uptight as they come. I wonder, quite often, if she were to sell the diamonds that came from her ass she wouldn’t need this job.

“Morning Miss Landon. I have Bob Sirch from Gucci on the line and also, your ten o’clock is early. What would you like me to tell him?” Even her tone sounded uptight.

I just reached for my door handle. “Tell Bob that I will call him when I get the damn numbers together and stop pestering me or he won’t have any form of an ad in Vogue the rest of the year.”

“Tell my ten o’clock to go get a coffee and come back on time.” She shot a smug smile and gave a curt nod.

I plopped my leather case on the fifteen thousand dollar desk and threw my sunglasses in the drawer. My chair was inviting me in and I sank into the soft Napa leather and opened my laptop.

And so it began…

By noon I’d made one intern quit and reduced the other to sobs. I don’t take kindly to half-ass work and I do not coddle. They need to lean how to not be such dumbasses.

Lila breezed in shortly after four o’clock and stood at the top of my desk drumming her insanely long fingernails. I sighed but never looked up from my computer. Moment’s later I was greeted with a surly throat clearing and a suggestive hum.

I finally lifted my eyes to the top of my glasses and gave her an extreme eyebrow. “Is there something I can do for you, pretty bitch?”

That is our nickname across most of Manhattan— The Pretty Bitches.

She rolled her eyes. “You know exactly what the fuck I want. Who was that panty creamer you left with last night?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “You know I have no idea and I really could care less.”

“Oh no. Not that easy this time slut. He was a keeper and I need to have details. I saw that bulge darling, I know you got to be walking a little slow today.”

The smartass smile etched across her face had me lifting the corners of my mouth. True, I was a bit worn today but he was nothing I would get worked up for again.

I rolled my eyes, again and turned back to the screen. She took the hint and plopped down in my armchair.

“Uh, careful with the stitching, that chair cost more than you make in a month.” I said, annoyed.

She just picked her fingernails and discarded imaginary clippings onto the seat.

Bitch.

“Why don’t you tell me about your pretty new little fuck mate. Does he like to wear a diaper and get spanked like the last one?” I asked, amused.

She snorted and flicked her wrist at me. “I bet I can make him do that if I wanted. Strangely the spanking part is kind of fun and makes me a little hot, actually.”

I laughed out loud at the absurdity and continued my assault on the daily article count. We chatted idly for the next hour as I finished up. At five o’clock she was shoving my purse into my arms and basically pushed me out the door.