I pull on my panties, but they’re all wet and cold where my arousal soaked them. I shuck them off again and then look at my jeans. I don’t want to put them on. It seems too final. I pull on my shirt instead, securing one button in the middle, so as not to reveal too much or too little of my body beneath. Very noncommittal.
Not wanting to sit bare-assed on his bed, I rest against the desk and then move to lean against the wall next to the window instead.
“Why December?” Bates repeats.
I shrug. “People are more generous around the holidays.”
“You want to lose your virginity with a pity fuck?”
“Of course I don’twantto, Bates. I want to lose it now. With you. I can’t make it any clearer than that. We’re two consenting adults.” I study his face and count again. “Well, one consenting adult, and… you.”
He sighs. “Lana, you’re a beautiful woman with a mission. If you want sex, you could walk into any bar in any part of the world and get it. Why does it have to be tonight? Did the blinddate failure hurt your feelings? It wasn’t your fault. Am I meant to be your rebound fuck?”
I miss my notebook. Bates seems to have names for every kind of fuck there is, and while “pity fuck” is pretty self-explanatory, and I know all about rebound relationships from observing my parents, it feels as if sex has a wealth of language I don’t know about, and I might need to start a glossary of terms.
“Well?” he growls.
“If you must know, I’d like to have sex because all my calculations suggest I need to get laid pronto if I’m going to have any chance of achieving my desired milestones and life goals. If I’m delayed much longer, I might miss out completely on ever being the kind of normal human my family appreciates, and I’d really like to prove that even though none of us can quite believe it, I do, in fact, belong to them. I also genuinely want to have sex. Contrary to popular belief, I have an active sex drive just like everyone else. Mentally, anyway.” I rub at the lines etching into my forehead, because that last part doesn’t ring true in my body. “Maybe even over-active,” I add after another glance at his pretty eyes and invested expression.
He’s hanging on my every word, his attention undivided in a way that makes me feel like the most important thing in his world right now. What better behavior could I ask of a one-night stand? And he’s so… enticing. I hate being on the other side of the room from him, and I want him to know it.
“Since I met you, my libido has sky-rocketed, and I want sex so much more than before. With you, I mean. That part of the equation is critical at this point. The thought of doing it with anyone else feels repellent now that I’ve been in your arms,” I admit, keeping my gaze low so he won’t mistake the desire in my eyes for begging, because I’m not doing that. I’m just telling him my truth. “The window of opportunity is shrinking with everyhour, and it’s unsettling my insides to think that I might board my plane tomorrow still a virgin.”
I try to get more comfortable against the wall, but it’s too uncomfortable a situation to do that.
“I’m spending the rest of the year working for my dad in a very remote and male-dense work environment, where most of the guys will hate me and the changes I’ll suggest — which is my sole purpose for being there, since that’s what I’ve been employed to do. The minuscule percentage of available men who might see past that frustration and all my other weird, awkward shitstillwon’t come near me, because they need the work and their boss ismydad. It’ll be a miracle if one of them is even brave enough to throw me a fucking wolf whistle.
“And I’ll remind you that you can’t be a rebound fuck when we haven’t actually fucked — but if we do knock boots, it wouldn’t be a rebound situation. It’ll be because I like you. And I want to share that information with you. Using my body. So we both feel it — my liking you, that is. Is that too romantic a notion?” I ask boldly, before rethinking my confidence. “A lot of my current emotional knowledge on the subject comes from reading smut, which is… fiction. Obviously. Is that not how it works?”
Breathing hard, I search his face and wonder if I should have kept all that to myself. The hard line of his jaw suggests he’s grinding his teeth, and his eyes are boring into mine so deeply they’re going to pierce right through me. I can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I hope with all my heart that I didn’t just hammer home the last nail in the coffin of furthering my sex education.
Bates runs a hand over his hair in a very slow, deliberate maneuver and continues to stare at me.
I don’t know how to interpret the look in his eyes. It seems somehow both adorableanddangerous, and those two things make strange bedfellows.
Kind of like us.
I may be young and smart, but he’s older and more laid-back intellectually, because time has already turned his knowledge into wisdom. He’s also rugged, and covered in tattoos I want to trace with my fingers or tongue, and I… I iron my jeans and make meticulous notes to shave seconds off my every activity so that I can compile those spare moments at the end of the day to go to bed early. I can’t possibly be his type. I’m not sure I’m anyone’s type.
“I’m not seeking revenge or a rebound. How could Irebound without first having beenbound? Not that I’m asking to be tied up, I just…Ugh. Can’t I please behave less like my stupid self for a second?” I ask the heavens before I return my gaze to Bates with a sigh. “Socially speaking, I have two left feet and a third foot in my mouth, so I know I’m not the ideal partner for a horizontal tango, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting a spin on the dance floor. It’s obvious I don’t know how to do this, Bates,” I say in all honesty. “What kind of fuck do youwantto be?”
“The best you’ll ever have,” he growls, stalking toward me with determined strides on powerful, muscular legs. His thick cock bobs up and down with each step, looking bigger than ever.
Bates picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and an excited and very nervous squeal escapes me. He slaps my ass, spurring another yelp, then he sets me on my feet on top of the bed so I can look down at him.
I meet his dark eyes as he undoes my one button and slips my shirt down off my shoulders. He drops it to the floor and gazes up at me.
“I don’t want to hurt you or scare you. If you want me to stop, or go slower, or get the fuck away from you, then youtellme. You understand?”
I press my lips together and nod.
Bates swears under his breath and looks me up and down. He strokes his cock slowly, as if absently rather than for pleasure. “What gets you wet, Lana? We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
My face bursts into flames. “I… um…”
How do I explain how little I know about my body when I had no idea before tonight that big, bearded, older men with tattoos are my favorite?
7
