He sighs, finally letting go of me.
I sway on my feet as he retreats, holding his hands up in defeat.
“Fine. Have it your way.” He takes a few more steps back down the hall. “I get it. You think you’re gonna end up falling for me, and then—”
“Trust me, if there’s one guy I won’t ever fall for, it’s you,” I snap.
“You’re probably worried you’ll end up totally obsessed—”
“Just goes to show how little you know me.”
“Wearing one of my basketball jerseys to bed, clinging to my pillow when I leave in the morning…”
He’s messing with me, but deep down, he’s hit a nerve. Should I be concerned? I shouldn’t, I remind myself. This is a low-risk, low-stakes situation, because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Donovan will never be on my radar. Not really.
“Okay, you win!” I step aside and gesture for him to come in. “Happy?”
A second later, and Donovan is slamming the door shut behind us, a victorious smile spreading across his face.
“Are we still doing the clothes-on thing?”
I nod.
“How do you feel about putting that sleep shirt back on?”
“That sounds doable.”
I slip into the bathroom and tug off my clothes, taking a few quick seconds to freshen up. Back in the room, Donovan is standing in front of my bookcase, rifling through a book.
I lean against the desk, watching him.
“Looking for inspiration?”
He turns around, eyes still glued to the page, and I can’t help but laugh at his unzipped jeans and the flash of blue boxers underneath.
“Since we’re getting in a little hands-on practice, I might as well use our sessions to try out some of the theory.”
He shuffles over onto my bed and sits with his back pressed to the wall, flicking through the pages. All I can see are his eyes over the top of the book as he beckons me over. I grab one condom—one!—and crawl across the mattress.
“Saddle up, Carrie.”
He pats his thigh, and I glance at the swell between his legs. I don’t need too much encouragement. I straddle his lap and unzip him all the way down. As I roll the condom onto him slowly, I feel his gaze glued to my face.
“What?” I ask, tugging up my shirt.
“Does my ‘throbbing member’ look throbby enough for you?”
“You’re exhausting.”
“Well… Does it?”
I look down and tilt my head.
“Is it me, or does it kinda curve to the left…”
“Say no more.”
His penis spasms and jumps to the right, before settling back into place.
