I stare at her, mesmerized by everything she’s revealed. She might not want to share her pen name with me yet, but I suspect she doesn’t usually divulge that much information either.
“So… Just to be clear…”
“I have not had sex,” she says without my prompting. “But I’m well-read on the subject matter. And, just to be clearer,” she adds with a giggle, “no one has sex like romance authors describe in books. It’s exaggerated. Every man has a giant cock. Every woman has a tight pussy. She can come multiple times, even from penetration.” She rolls her eyes. “See? Unrealistic.”
I laugh. “What if my cock is huge?”
“I’ll never know, will I?”
I lift a brow. “Only because you’ll never see any other besides mine. Not in person anyway. I assume you’ve watched porn.”
She sits taller. “I’ll have you know that I watch porn regularly. It’s how I know half the things I put in my books.”
My eyes widen in surprise. My girl watches porn… Not sure how I feel about that. She’d lose her mind if I barred her from doing such an activity, especially if it’s for research purposes. I lick my lips. “You do realize porn is not remotely realistic.”
“Of course. I’m not an idiot. But it can be sexy, and it helps me know how to use different sex toys or how to hold a flogger or whether or not a woman can really suck cock while being eaten out.” She shrugs.
I’m stunned. Truly. This girl is so sweet and innocent on the outside. But on the inside, she’s a naughty sex fiend. I shouldn’t be shocked. She writes romance for a living. I can’t expect her to do that with no research, especially if she doesn’t have sex herself.
Didn’t.
Didn’t have sex.
As soon as I convince her she’s mine and slide a ring on her finger at the altar, she will have so much sex that she won’t remember what she did for all those hours every day.
I don’t know when I decided to follow in my brother’s and cousins’ footsteps on this issue, but I suddenly like their thinking. The fastest way to get this woman to the altar is to tempt her every day, give her just enough of a taste of what it will be like between us to whet her appetite and drive her wild with arousal. Eventually, she’ll be so needy that she’ll agree to marry me just to put an end to the ache she’s going to feel deep in her pussy.
It’s startling hearing her use words like cock and pussy so flippantly. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by that either, since she cusses like a sailor. And writes sex scenes for a living.
“New question,” I begin, my curiosity through the roof. “Do you own any of these sex toys you write about?”
“Of course. Dozens of them.”
My eyes feel like they will bug out of my head. “Dozens?” My cock goes from hard to rock solid in one-point-five seconds.
She shrugs. “I mean, I haven’t counted them, but I own a lot. Research, remember?” She winks at me.
I release her and take a step back. I have to. It’s either that or drag her to her bedroom and demand to see this stash of sex toys. I will see them. Before the end of the night. But first, I need to feed her. Once we get to her bedroom, we’ll never make it back out until we move to step three of our date—breakfast.
Melody is a pile of incongruency. She cusses, she uses words like cock and pussy without a second thought, she probably knows more about sex than most humans… And yet, I was the first person to kiss her, and she’s still a virgin.
I really need to pick up the pace and get her fed so I can kiss her again.
Chapter 7
Melody
* * *
This evening is surreal. Every part of it. I’ve told this man more than I’ve ever told another human being. I don’t know what possesses me to keep talking, but something about him makes me feel comfortable and safe.
Watching him cook makes me squirm. And that’s new for me, too. No one has ever made me squirm. I’m well aware that it’s strange for me to be a twenty-eight-year-old virgin who writes spicy scenes for a living. I get it. But I have my convictions, and I’ve stuck to them.
Brody makes me squirm like the heroines in my books. It’s hard to deny that fact. I write about it, but I’ve never actually believed people did it in real life. I’m aware of a few other clichés, too. My panties are wet. Yep, that’s a real thing. And my nipples have been hard since about the time he buckled me into his truck.
He hasn’t blatantly stared at my chest, but I know he can’t miss the puckered buds because I’m not wearing a bra. It didn’t go with this dress. Plus, I rarely wear a bra. My boobs aren’t that large, plus bras are uncomfortable. When I’m working at home, no one is going to see me, so why would I wear something uncomfortable?
I love living in such a warm climate. I get up every day, put on yoga pants and a tank top, and spend the day having wasted no time on my appearance.
