Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
My self-loathing party ends when Nikita grumbles, “Says the lady who rode my leg all the way to climax station this morning.” She shudders like she walked through a cobweb.
“I wasn’t close to climax. Your disgusted howl cut the journey short. I was a mere minute from saving you from the need to shower.” When she appears lost, I ask, “Is squirting a medical term, or should I refer to it as—”
Her hand shoots up to clamp my mouth before I get out all my question. Then her motherly eyes hit their full potential. “Because it is your birthday, I’m going to act like we’re not having this conversation outside my place of employment. Behave, be safe, and message me when you get home. I don’t care what time it is. I’ll most likely be awake, anyway.”
I pretend that my message isn’t ten minutes from being sent since Lilia gave me the night off for my birthday.
My agreeing gesture appeases Nikita enough to lower her hand from my mouth. “I love you, Z.” She wraps me up in a warm hug. “Happy birthday.”
“I love you too.” I return her hug before pushing her into the hospital entrance only used by staff. “Now get out of here before Boris works out why you don’t use the main entrance anymore.”
Boris is lovely, but if Andrik had his face, keeping his dick in his pants wouldn’t be an issue for him. I doubt even his wife would want to give it up.
There’s no doubt my wild side is whittling its way under Nikita’s skin when she twists to face me just before entering the hospital severely underpaying its staff. “Squirting is the correct medical term, but some people also call it female ejaculation. Women expel fluids of various quantities and compositions from the urethra during sexual arousal and orgasm. There have been several studies conducted on the phenomenon, but most of the researchers were male. They took centuries to find the clit, so I haven’t given their findings much thought.” She tilts her head and flashes the cutest grin. “Should I consider my own study?”
I twist my lips. “I think you should. But can I suggest a practical approach to your research instead of theoretical? The results will be more accurate that way.”
“They would. But then I’d need a research assistant, and I don’t see anyone offering their services.”
“Except Boris,” I correct.
“Except Boris,” she parrots.
After groaning, she drops her lower lip, waves me goodbye, and then trudges into her workplace like every man she crosses paths with today wouldn’t sell their left kidney to assist her with a study on the female anatomy.
Once Nikita is out of eyesight, I take the most direct route home. It is the same bus I’ve ridden the past month. Since it is early, it is brimming with people. The ratio of men to women is starkly different, and the handful who appear attached to a significant other don’t miss the bounce the potholes cause my chest.
Their eyes do the same boing their children do on the knees of their wives, and it makes me sick to my stomach that their wives gave them something I never could, yet they still gawk like the best they can get isn’t directly in front of them.
Don’t they know looks fade, but family is for life?
Or was it only my mother who drummed that into her daughters since adolescence?
With my mood no longer playful, I don’t realize someone is sitting in the stairwell outside my apartment door until we almost knock knees.
His prolonged rake of my body is as deprived as my fellow male riders, but regretfully, he knows what I’m rocking under my T-shirt, jeans, and jacket combination.
“Vlad.” I slow my roll to ensure I maintain plenty of distance between me and the last guy who couldn’t find my clit with a map and a compass. “What are you doing here?”
He looks at me in shock. “It’s your birthday. As if I wouldn’t visit my favorite girl on her birthday.”
“I’m twenty-eight.” With him lost, I continue. “Where were you when I turned twenty-seven?”
Vlad is the man who had me believing abstinence was the better option. He was the last person I slept with before Andrik, and he only cared about getting himself off, leaving me unsatisfied and sore enough from his jackrabbit moves not to rush out and seek a replacement.
I assumed all bed companions would be like him. Selfish.
Andrik taught me otherwise.
I take some of the anger I should be directing at myself for letting Andrik slip into my head again for the umpteenth time today out on Vlad. “I would show you out, but I’m reasonably sure you know the way.”
“Come on, Zoy.” His nasally whine annoys me, but not as much as his following words. “We were good once.”