Page 51 of Not So Goode

“I’m not a virgin. I met my ex-fiancé in my freshman year of college. I was a virgin. I dated him all through college, moved to Boston with him after college and we lived together. He proposed a year and a half ago, and I found out a few months later that he was cheating on me with my boss. I dumped him, quit my job, moved out of the condo we shared—paying him for the rest of the years’ worth of my half of the rent. I’ve lived off my savings since.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Okay. That dude was a dumbfuck piece of shit, number one. Number two, what’s your point?”

“The point is, I’m not a virgin.” I sighed. I tugged the blankets up to my neck, suddenly hyperaware that I was buck naked underneath. “But…while I’ve had a lot of sex, there are some things I haven’t done.”

He nodded slowly. “Like a blowjob.”

My cheeks flamed, my chest burned, and I couldn’t breathe. My eyes went to his shaft, the pink tip drawing my gaze. “Right. Among other things.”

“Like?”

“Why do you want to know? So you can make fun of me?”

He frowned, puzzled. “Have I made fun of you for anything so far?”

I sighed. “No, you haven’t. I apologize. I get defensive, sometimes.”

“You know, Charlie, there’s a thing you’re allowed to do. It’s called telling me to mind own goddamn business. They just invented it yesterday, I heard, but I can teach you, if you want.”

I laughed. “I feel like I owe you the truth, at the very least.”

His fingers pinched my chin, gentle but firm. Eyes on mine, fierce, unrelenting. “You don’t owe jack shit, princess.”

“But, I…last night. You…”

“Had the unbelievable privilege of putting my hands and mouth on the most beautiful fuckin’ woman I’ve ever seen. I got to watch you come underneath me, watch those big beautiful tits move around…fuck. What I did last night wasselfishof me, Charlie. Make no fuckin’ mistake about me—I’m a selfish, horny bastard, and I did what I did because I had no chance of keeping my hands off you. I feel a little shitty about it, truth be told, because I still ain’t sure you were sober enough to know what you were letting me do.”

Suddenly, breathing was difficult and I found it impossible to take my eyes off of him. His words lanced through my core. Dirty, filthy, crude, crass…and beautiful. Intoxicating.

“I knew what I was letting you do, Crow. I was drunk enough that my inhibitions were very, very relaxed, but I was in control of my mind, and able to make informed decisions.”

“Swear that’s the truth, Charlie?” His eyes betrayed worry and guilt that he’d done something untoward.

“Yes, I swear. I…” I was lost, my mouth and mind disconnected, my body feeling strange intense fluttering disorienting new things I couldn’t process or identify, but they were all focused at the nexus of my thighs and low in my belly. “I really, really,reallyliked what you did.”

“Well, good to know I got it right.”

“Oh, you got it right. I’ve never felt that way before.” I knew my eyes betrayed that secret too.

“Never?”

“Nope. Nothing like it.” Let him guess from that.

“That’s one of the other things you never did with your ass-bag of an ex,” he surmised.

I nodded shallowly. “Yeah,” I whispered.

He let out a slow breath. “So, what else haven’t you done?”

“Anything that’s not…regular sex, I guess.”

“What’s regular, to you?” he asked, not quite smirking.

“Missionary, I think they call it.”

He had his fingertip on my temple, pushing back flyaway hair, then down my throat, over my shoulder. Nudging the blanket down with his finger. Centimeter by centimeter, he bared my skin, and I held my breath and let him.

“That’s it? That’s all you and that dude ever did? Him on top, you on bottom, wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am?”