Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Sliding my free palm up my stomach and under my sweatshirt, I reach my underboob and move up the plump flesh, forefinger and thumb plucking at my own nipple as if it were Drake’s hand doing the work.
In my mind it is.
In my mind, he’s between my legs and making me feel this way. Drake’s about to make me come.
I try not to change the speed of the vibrator, wanting to come—needing it again. So tempting to make it hum faster; so tempting to make it tsst tsst tsst in a different rhythm.
No.
I can’t change the speed because then it’ll be over.
I gotta draw it out.
Slow it down, Daisy, what’s the rush.
The rush is those rich brown eyes. The lopsided grin.
The deep, shiver-inducing voice.
The way he likes it when I lick my lips.
He’d been fidgeting and one of his hands had disappeared during our chat. What had he been doing, touching himself?
I get him hard.
An empowering fact. A confidence-boosting fact.
I move the vibrator a fraction to the right. It won’t do if it’s resting right on my clit, no, no, no, that’ll get the job over and done with.
Head tipped back, I kick at the covers so I can spread my legs.
Drake had spread my legs in the bathroom—used his broad shoulders to keep them apart, going to town on my pussy as if it were his job. As if it were the reason he followed me to the bathroom and barged his way in.
He smelled good.
Felt incredible.
The guy knows how to kiss.
That kiss alone could make me come.
I used to think I didn’t want a man going down on me—few of my boyfriends ever did. If you count them crouching down there and licking me a bit, giving up after a few minutes, then crawling up my body to slide their dick inside…
I blush thinking about the ineptitude and the lack of practice and how I always thought it was normal for a guy to be lazy. I thought it was normal for them to touch my boob a few seconds, give it a squeeze, and expect that to sufficiently turn me on enough.
Yeah.
No.
No wonder I hadn’t really enjoyed sex.
Obviously I have no idea what sex with Drake would be like, but if the oral is any indication…
I squirm.
Press the vibrator harder against the spot between my legs, the vibrations tingling my entire lower half already.
Oh fuck, that feels good…
This is going to feel so good…
Anticipation has me clenching my kegels; I learned soon after buying my toy that if I did, I had stronger orgasms. Faster. Longer.
Slow down, Daisy.
I can’t.
My head thrashes. “Don’t want to.”
So impatient.
So needy.
I am needy.
Which is the problem.
I want to tear Drake Colter’s clothes off and fuck him, not the other way around. I want to climb on top of his big body and move back and forth over him until we have the headboard hitting the wall.
Yes…
He would do that.
He’s big enough and strong enough, and I bet his glutes are thick and powerful.
My teeth gnash my bottom lip.
My finger clicks on the power button, causing the vibrator to buzz faster. More intense. Faster…faster…
More.
More.
“More.”
When I come, I manage to do it quietly—unlike the noise I made at the fraternity house, where no one could hear me crying out. Not unless they had their ear pressed to the bathroom door.
Here, both my roommates are home, and I doubt Gabby would be thrilled listening to me orgasm. In fact, I know for a fact she’d be pissed because once, Stella had a one-night stand at the house, both of them coming ridiculously—dare I say theatrically—loud.
Gabby could not get over it, which should be no surprise to anyone because, honestly, Gabby is no fun.
My arm goes limp, and the vibrator thumps to the mattress beside me.
I let out a puff of air.
I throw off my covers, both feet hitting the floor so I can go wash—and the vibrator.
I yawn.
“Coming can be such.” Yawn. “Hard work,” I say this to no one as I’m sitting on the toilet, alone in the bathroom peeing but also staring off into space.
Then when I’m back in bed, I begin daydreaming about my situation with Drake Colter all over again.
“I don’t have time for this,” I tell the universe. “I need sleep.”
thirty-six
drake
I give the best relationship advice and I’m single. Why? Coaches don’t play.
It’s never a good sign when the girl you like texts you and says “we need to talk.”
We need to talk?
About what?
I had it all figured out in my brain how things would go now that the truth is out in the open—everyone knows I fucked up, everyone knows I lied, everyone has accepted my apologies.
The events were going to unfold as follows:
Go on a date
Laugh and have fun
Message each other a bunch, hang out
Bang
Maybe take her to the gym and work out with her so I can stare at her ass when she bends over to grab weights, and vice versa.