Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
She heard me calling his name? That means she heard a hell of a lot more, too.
“Oh, my God, I’m sorry. I’ll remember that, for sure,” I vow, trying to close the door before I burst into flames of embarrassment.
“Wait!” she cries, holding up her hand. “I heard you’re selling uhm, stuff now? Can I get a catalog or something? For your products?”
She makes it sound like I’m a drug dealer with a catalog of merchandise. Page three, cocaine. Page twelve, ecstasy. Page twenty-seven, meth.
But I know what she means.
“Yeah, hang on.” I push the door closed and reach for my purse, pulling out a business card for Bedroom Heaven. Opening the door again, I hand her the card. “The QR code is on the back. Scan that with your phone, and you’ll be in the catalog under my name. Buy what you want, and I’ll deliver it within a few days at most, maybe sooner if I have it in stock. And if you have any questions, let me know. I’m happy to help.”
I’m making sales at my front door, while I’m naked beneath a blanket with who-knows-what wetly running down my legs. Kara was right—sex sells. Wait’ll Jaxx hears this story. She’ll probably turn it into a new sales strategy—Demos with a Purpose.
As I close the door, Chance reappears, and his brows jump up his forehead. “Making a run for it?” he teases, though there’s a thread of worry in his voice.
“Making a sale,” I explain with a laugh. “That’s two in one day, counting the one you just bought.” I pick up the Mad Hatter, surprised at its weight and suddenly a little ashamed that I took all that.
Does that make me a slut? Like not in a sexy-talk way, but in an actual way?
I know the science behind it. Vaginal openings are meant to stretch and can easily handle penises of every size, considering an entire baby head comes out it. But there’s an expectation that women be ‘tight’ and virginal in our society, and if they’re not, there’s a stigma. And I haven’t been a virgin in a long time. I never gave it a second thought, long ago dismissing the idea of a body count until I’m looking at actual proof that you could drive a Mack truck in my vagina without touching the walls.
“Hey, where’d you go?” Chance asks, coming over and taking me in his arms.
I shake my head, trying to rattle those thoughts loose. I know they’re not true, but I’m as much a victim of society as everyone else. I just have to keep reminding myself that it’s all bullshit.
“Wondering how in the hell this fit,” I admit.
Chance chuckles. “With a little bit of work and a whole lotta lube.” He drops his hand between us, using the lube that’s still there to slide two fingers into me and pumping them slowly. I can feel the delicious stretch around him again now that I’m not as aroused. “You want it again? I’ll get you there.”
There’s no jealousy in the question, no concern that he thinks I want a toy over him, especially a particularly large one. With Chance, there’s only a willingness to enjoy each other.
But I don’t need another round. I’m blissfully orgasmed out, mentally satisfied, and physically exhausted.
I press a kiss to Chance’s lips, so quick he doesn’t even pucker to kiss me back. “Let’s take a shower.”
After washing off, we curl up together in my bed. Naked beneath the sheets, I carefully ask, “Are you disappointed in tonight? It’s okay, I probably shouldn’t have gone.”
I gave him so many chances to say no before we went, but maybe I should’ve made the no-go call myself and not risked things going so badly. But I’d wanted to support Chance, and he’d kept saying he wanted me there.
He was probably being polite. That’s how he is.
He hums thoughtfully, and I can appreciate that he’s replaying the evening out, analyzing it in that way he does. “No, I’m not disappointed. I think I’m . . . pleased? That’s the best way I can describe it. It’s not happy, because I know people got their feelings hurt, but there were things that should’ve been said a long time ago that finally came out. Acknowledging it is the first step to fixing it, and now, hopefully, we can. Because of you.”
He says it like it’s a compliment, not an accusation.
“Really?”
Against my lips, he repeats, “Really.”
And then he kisses me, his lips simply moving against mine sweetly. It’s emotional, and despite all my internal protests, I can feel warmth of a totally different kind bloom in my chest. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, I think.
I won’t be writing a paper about it for my psychology class because I definitely didn’t behave the way I should’ve, with Vivian especially. But maybe it was okay?