Do I sound like an asshole to you?
That's because I am.
And guess what? It works for me just fine.
Or at least it did.
Until I met her.
Books talk about sparks flying. Fuck that shit. With her, it was like emergency flares mixed with jet fuel. Or maybe just straight up napalm.
Only one problem.
She didn't leave her name or number when she disappeared from the hotel room after the hottest fucking night of my life. Now I've had a taste of unicorn pussy—the sweetest, rarest of all pussy—and I need it again.
So what's an asshole to do?
I took this problem to the street. A missed connection gone viral.
And when I find her? I'm keeping her.