Page 8 of Anyone But the Superstar

It’s not called a job for nothing.

Dipping back down, I hollow my cheeks and suck.

But just as he sweeps my hair back as I said he could, my lips start losing suction and my tongue starts to tingle.

I try to strengthen my pucker, but a line of drool escapes and the tingling sensation spreads to the roof of my mouth. ‘Wait.’ I let him go, this time without enough suction for a pop, and sit back on my haunches.

His hands go up again. ‘Sorry.’

I’d laugh at him, all three appendages raised in surrender, if I wasn’t so concerned with my sudden inability to feel my tongue. ‘Sumpthing onng.’ Panic sets in at my slurred speech.

John struggles up to his elbows. ‘What did you say?’

‘Sumpthing…’ I reach up quickly, basically slapping myself in the mouth, but I barely feel it. Concentrating, I’m able to swallow the excess salvia pooling in my mouth and force a deep, shaky breath in through my nose, out through my mouth, just like I tell myPilates class. Except instead of feeling relaxed, my entire body tightens when my exhale sounds like a pre-pubescent boy making fart noises.

‘I ink I’m aving a toke.’

His previously vanished smile crinkles by his eyes reemerge between his brows. ‘Toke?’

‘Toke!’ I jab a finger at my lips, where, in spite of my swallow, a drop of drool slides out of the corner of my mouth.

It takes a few more seconds, but my butchered word finally registers. ‘Stroke?’ John’s eyes widen and his dick shrinks.

I slap my faceHome Alonestyle. ‘I an’t eel ma ace!’

‘Whoa, okay. Shit.’ John, now fully limp, shifts back on the mattress so he can retract his legs from either side of my body.

I’m too panicked to move from my ass-on-heels blow-job hunch.

‘Let’s just calm down.’

My first thought is that the men of the world really need to realize once and for all that no woman, in the history of time, has ever calmed down just because a man told them too. My second is that John must be panicked too, because he doesn’t realize the edge of the bed is?—

‘Fuck!’

I get a great shot of his taint and hard ass as he tumbles heels over beard off the bed.

Ignoring his idiocy for my more pressing concerns, I slide my legs out from under me and stand at the foot of the bed.

Struggling to his knees, John rests his arms on the mattress and frowns at me. ‘What are you doing?’

Closing my eyes, I reach out my arms and then touch my finger to my nose. My pointer finger hits the target and I stretch my arm back out and try the other hand. Also good.

There’s rustling of sheets and a crinkling of paper. ‘Um, Anne?’

Ignoring him, I keep my eyes shut and lift one foot off the low-pile beige carpet. I remain perfectly still as I count to twenty. Even with my Pilates skills, I don’t think I’d be able to do this if I was having a stroke. Lowering my foot, I open my eyes and frown at my perfectly balanced feet while my tongue lays heavy in my mouth.

What. The. Hell.

After a night that started off with humidity, anxiety and a smorgasbord of bearded Texans, I’d rallied my way into a buzz and an orgasm. IthoughtI’d win the night by riding a cowboy.

Instead, I can’t feel my face.

‘Anne?’

Sighing, I brace myself for more unhelpfulness and look in John’s direction. Saliva drips down my chin, landing on my boob.That, I can feel.

Awesome.