Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
"No. I don't want to be sold to a mafia boss." Hey, look at us talking about a coercive scenario without any mention of the incident. We're doing great.
"Anything weird?"
"What's weird?" I ask.
"Hmm. I'm not the judge." He shrugs with a painful amount of confidence.
It's way too sexy. He's way too sexy. Usually, I don't see him that way. Right now, I can't see him any other way. I need to shift to something that makes sense. A joke. "Do you want to be sold to a mafia boss?"
"Hmm. A female mafia boss who wants to use my body like a toy… don't hate it." He chuckles. "Never seen one of those, though. Why is it always the men dominating the women?"
"'Cause women are reading the books."
"And… you don't ever fantasize about being the one in control?"
"I don't read those books," I say.
"'Cause they're too…" He doesn't say close to the bruise but it stays in the air.
"They're not my thing," I say. "But I sorta see it. When you're reading, you're letting the author drive the story. So the activity is naturally more appealing to people who want to let go of control. But you can close the book at any time, so you feel safe testing out a taboo."
"Smart."
"It's only a theory."
"No. It's fucking brilliant." He beams, proud. "How'd I end up with the smartest woman in the world as my best friend?"
"Dare." My blush deepens. "You'll embarrass me."
"My favorite pastime."
"We uh…" No, I don't want to go back to talking about masturbatory fantasies. Damn. The conversation is too much in every direction.
"Need to discuss your vanilla visions?"
"People like vanilla."
"People, yeah. You?"
"Sorry to bore you," I say.
"Nothing weird?"
"Sometimes."
"Go on…"
I try to lower my voice to a whisper. "The guy behind us is listening."
"So?"
"Well…" The image forms in my mind. My chest flushes. My entire body flushes. This is one rather vanilla vision, but it always gets me there. Fast. "You remember what I asked you… about the guy I was seeing in high school?"
His eyes go to my chest. "That guy?"
"Yeah."
"That's what gets you off?"
"Do we need to talk about it?"
"So that's what you imagine?" he asks. "A guy taking his time toying with you?"
I have to look out the window to keep my composure. "Can we not continue this?"
"Okay." He chuckles. "But that's good. That's specific. That's sensual."
"That's basic as fuck?"
"A little, sure, but so what? You've got fantastic tits, Val."
The guy behind us does, in fact, gasp.
"Won't be hard to find a guy who wants to worship them."
Oh my god.
"You think Archie is into it?" he asks.
"How would I know?"
"Does he look?"
"I don't know."
Dare taps my shoulder. "Not gonna have this conversation with the back of your head."
Why is that such an evocative turn of phrase? "You sure?"
"Yeah."
I force myself to look at him.
He smiles as I make eye contact. I'm blushing. I'm probably as red as a tomato.
And he's all cool and collected and Dare about it. "He'd probably be into it."
"Can we not?"
"No." His smile widens. "We have to strategize. What do you want out of this, physically?"
"Normal things."
"His hand?"
"Maybe," I say.
"Oral?"
"I don't know. Probably not. Too personal."
He nods with understanding. "It can be."
"Wait. You think that?"
"Why would I think otherwise?"
I guess I assumed. "Most of the women I know talk about giving blow jobs like it's pretty common."
"Maybe. I don't really hang around enough for that."
"Is it that time consuming?"
He chuckles. "I don't hang around long enough to mix it up."
"You're the one always doing it in missionary?"
Again, he laughs. "I want to get in and get off, but I'm not selfish about it."
"So you'd stop someone?"
"Honestly?"
"Why would I want a lie?"
His eyes meet mine. "Now, yeah? If I didn't want to stay for round two, I'd move things along."
"But before you wouldn't?"
"Yeah."
"Before… what?"
"Before."
Oh. Before. Of course.
"It's not a bad thing."
"It's not?"
"It made me re-evaluate some shit." He sucks the liquid from the ice. "I started thinking… how would I want someone to treat Val?"
"Oh."
"And I wouldn't want some guy to expect you to suck him off. Or let you leave without getting off after. Not that I expected it. More that…" He looks to the window. "I didn't think about it that way. I didn't understand what it was like for women."
"Do you miss it?"
"It happens often enough."
"Do you… make oral arguments?"
He chuckles. "What's that? The debate team?"
"Dare!"
"Not as often as I'd like."
As he'd like. He wants to go down on more women.
And now that's the vision in my head—Dare, pushing my legs apart, pressing his lips to my thigh, murmuring some dirty talk I can't even begin to imagine.
"You know, three of your girlfriends asked me about that senior year," I say.
"About…?"
"They asked me if 'the rumors were true.'"
He stares at me blank-faced.
"About the pineapple juice. If you really drank so much you tasted like—"