Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Goldie’s cheeks are already red, so it’s hard to tell if she’s blushing harder at this question.
“Um, yes. I can’t wear a tampon.”
The doctor nods like she expected this. “My suggestion, if you’re comfortable with it, is to let your partner help stimulate you into orgasm while slowly stretching it. It’s kind of like being able to tickle yourself. It’s almost impossible to do, but you’re more open to pleasurable sensitivity when it’s done by someone else.”
“What kind of stimulation should I do?” I ask the doctor, and I feel Goldie stiffen.
“Oral stimulation would be ideal, then you can work up to larger things as her comfort increases. Your vagina is tight but not something that warrants medical intervention.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I tell her before she leaves the two of us alone.
There’s a half a second of silence before Goldie opens her mouth to say something.
“Not a word,” I cut her off and lean close. “Don’t you say a fucking word. Your ass is grounded, little girl.”
Chapter Seven
GOLDIE
I don’t know how this could possibly get any worse. I can’t even look at Nash, so I keep my attention out the window. I’ve got my arms folded over my chest, and I’m doing my best to create a wall between us.
This man really thinks he can do anything he wants. It’s infuriating. But I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit the relief I’d felt when he’d taken my hand. When the doctor started to do her thing, I was worried about the pain. I was so scared of it and what the exam might reveal.
The fear that had started to rise melted away at his touch. As much as Nash pisses me off, he’s protective. As long as I’m with him, I know no one will hurt me. Too bad he doesn’t know how much he can hurt me. If he does, he doesn't seem to care.
“Are you hungry?” Nash asks, breaking the silence. There’s still an edge to his tone, and I don’t understand why he’s the one that’s angry. I'm eighteen years old, and I went to the doctor for a check-up. What's the big deal? “You’re only making this worse for yourself.”
“You told me not to speak,” I snip at him.
“And now I’m asking you a question,” he fires right back.
“What is your deal with my food intake?”
“Just answer the damn question, Goldie!” Nash shouts, making me jump. He pulls to a stop at a light and runs his hands down his face. “Shit.” He sighs and then glances over at me. “I’m not trying to scare you. Not that you wouldn’t have it coming,”
“What does that mean?” I don’t understand half of what this man says.
“You scared the shit out of me. That’s what I mean.”
I stare at him, and the longer I look, the more his words sink in. Anger is a secondary emotion, and I see the fear behind his eyes. My mind flashes back to him bursting into the exam room and the expression on his face. He really was worried about me. I’d been so focused on what was about to happen that I hadn't noticed.
“Why did I scare you? It was a clinic, not a party.”
Nash shakes his head as the light turns green. “That neighborhood isn’t the best.”
His eyes flick up and down my body, and I fight the urge to pull on the edge of my skirt. He’s acting like I’m in some sexy outfit and not the stupid school uniform I’m forced to wear.
“It was fine.” I picked that clinic because I didn’t need insurance. I was worried if I used mine, someone would find out. I guess that was pointless because now Nash knows. Is he going to tell my mom?
“You're naïve.”
“It was a doctor's office,” I grit out.
“Have you seen yourself, Goldie? Have you ever looked in a fucking mirror?”
I must be misinterpreting his words because I have no clue what message he’s trying to convey.
“You’re so full of it.” I roll my eyes. “Don’t try to play that card. You want to yell at me that I’m naïve about being pretty or whatever, but you saw me naked and didn’t bat an eye.”
“That’s what I mean. Fucking naïve. How did you even get there? Did that so-called friend just drop you off?”
“No.” I actually need to text her.
“Who took you then? A guy from school?” He fires off one question after another, each one angrier than the last.
"No, I got a Lyft."
"You're lying."
"How do you know if I'm lying?” Then I remember my question in the exam room. “And you never told me how you knew I was there!”
"You didn't request a Lyft," he says, ignoring the question again.
Okay, that is kind of true. "I don't have the app. Josie ordered it for me." I need to tell her I won't need one to get back home. She couldn't take me because she had to stay after school today.