She’s still staring at me, pitifully working me over to get me to say yes. I can’t say no to her and realistically, any alcohol will be out of my system by morning. “Fine. Give it here.”
She jumps up and down, bursting with excitement, before plopping next to me on the couch. “Now, tell me everything.”
Grabbing the cup from her, I take a sip and nearly cough. Jesus, this is strong.
We talk about my arrangement with Ryker and how strictly non-sexual it is, although I intentionally leave out that most days it feels very sexual, because I know she’ll make a bigger deal of if than she should. I also tell her about our first experience at Gravity, when he made me come from pain alone, again leaving out the specifics. I most certainly donottell her that he made me pleasure myself to completion in front of him, because I’m not even ready to accept that yet.
“How big is his dick?” she asks, positioning her two index fingers about eight inches apart, while indicating with her face that I should pull them farther apart or push them closer together, to provide her with a proper visual.
I smack her hands down and giggle. “Ihavenotseen norwillI see his dick, Wrinley Jaymes!”
“I bet it’s huge.” She raises an eyebrow as she pulls her fingers apart about ten inches. “Like your very own Cocktimus Prime!”
My palm slaps my face. She’s seriously obsessed with all things dick. I don’t think she’s capable of seeing a man on the street without checking out his crotch. If a guy has a bulge, she’ll be thefirst to notice. It’s a special talent that, if you ask her, she’s proud to possess.
I laugh and take another swig of my margarita, because Cocktimus Primeispretty fucking funny. “You’re crazy, but I do love that and I may have to use it.”
“You laugh but it's a real thing in anime porn,” she deadpans followed by a robotic sounding voice. “I am Cocktimus Prime and I am here to end the battle.”
I don't even want to know how she knows this. “I believe you, nerd.” And then we break out into hysterical laughter.
Once we come down from our laughing fit, we sit in silence for a beat, and my face is starting to feel fuzzy from the alcohol. I’m not drunk, but I do feel pretty good. Loose and carefree for a change. Life has been so stressful and chaotic lately. It’s a relief to just be present.
Wrinley cocks her head. “You like him don’t you?” There’s a seriousness in her voice that wasn’t there moments ago.
“I don’t like him like you think I like him, but I do feel safe with him. But he’s Mom’s ex and he’s forty four... old enough to be myactualfather. Even if I did like him, nothing can come of it, because we’re friends and he doesn’t want more than that.”
“Arabella Olivia Bradley,” she scolds. “Who gives a flying fuck knuckle what the world thinks about your ages. I know it’s so cliché, but age really is just a number.”
“Did you just pull out my full name?”
“I did, and I regret nothing. I’ve known your stubborn ass for a long time, which means I’m allowed to use whatever variation of your name I choose.” She knows I hate when people use my full name, but she also knows she’s the only one that can get away with it.
“Fine. I’ll allow it.”
“Seriously, I can see it in your eyes that you like him. I’m not blind.” She sets her drink down and pulls my hands into hers.“And why is your basket case of a mother even a part of this conversation? It’s not like you stole him out from under her. They broke up years ago, for fuck’s sake. Wait–did you?”
“Did I what, Wrin?”
“Did you and Ryker,” she lowers her voice to a whisper. “You know–have a thing back then?”
I pull my hands from hers and yell, “No! Fucking hell–ew! I was underage! What kind of psycho pedo do you think he was–is? And do you really think I’d do that to my mother? I can barely stomach the thought of being with him now because I know how much it would hurt her. She really liked him.”
She breaks into a giggle as she swipes her hair off her face. “I know, boo. I’m just fucking with you. But really, If you like him, I don’t see anything wrong with letting him show you more than just BDSM–if you know what I mean.” Then she’s motioning her hand to her mouth and fake gagging like she’s choking on a cock.
Maybe she’s right and Icanbe with him. Ageisjust a number. “But he doesn’t want more with me. He’s made it very clear that this can’t cross the line into something sexual.” My face feels hot as the thought occurs to me that it kind of already hascrossed that line?
“My love, he’s a hot blooded man. You can’t tell me he doesn’t think with his cock, just like the rest. He just needs a little push, especially after your little scene at the club wherehe told you he was hard.” She puts extra emphasis on that last part, just to drive the point home. “So let’s give him a little nudge.”
The alcohol in my system hasn’t dulled my senses or impaired my ability to think straight, but it does have me feeling bold enough to agree with her. Part of me wants to see how he’ll react. Will he keep his walls up or let them fall and give in to his impulses? The other part of me is terrified he’ll reject me, seeing me as nothing more than a naive, young girl that needs a little help.
But I’mnota naive young girl. I’m not a girl at all. I’m a woman–with needs. Needs that he’s recently said I can’t satisfy withouthispermission.
“You’re right,” I tell my best friend, standing and pulling out my phone. “I need another drink if I’m going to do this.”
“Wait, wait,” she stops me. “Start with a selfie–a suggestive one–of your tits. But make it classy. You don’t want to show all your goods at once.”
I down the rest of my margarita and we take a few very suggestive photos that have me feeling brazen, because I look pretty damn hot. Then with a sly grin, I send my favorite and wait.
