Flame - Erin Noelle Page 0,6
in mine, a jolt of electricity surges through me, culminating at my now throbbing erection, and the goose bumps blanketing her arm assure me I’m not the only one feeling this thrill. I need to fuck this girl. ASAP.
“No worries. I may be small, but I’m a tough cookie.” Leaning in to me with our hands still joined, she lifts up on her tiptoes and whispers, “Plus, I like it rough.”
Holy shit. This girl. ASAP just became right fucking now.
Unfortunately, before I can verbalize our goodbye to my friends still gawking at us and drag her out of the restaurant and directly into my hotel bed, a girl who looks a lot like Dakota, but taller and with longer hair, and a guy approach to tell her they’re leaving. She runs through a quick introduction. I hear the word sister, but I’m not paying any attention to their names because all I can think about is her. Naked. Underneath me. Screaming my name.
As soon as they leave, I twirl her around to face me to tell her what’s about to happen, about how I’m going to show her all about what rough is, but then another couple strolls up. Again, with a girl who looks incredibly similar to Dakota. Dude, how many sisters does she have?
This time, however, when Dakota introduces us, I see something else in her expression. Regret? Confusion? Guilt, maybe? I’m not exactly sure, but when she offers me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and announces she has to leave with them, I want to explode with frustration.
Is she serious? Leave? Now? What the fuck?
I try to think of something to say, short of sounding like I’m pathetically begging some chick I don’t know not to go, but I come up empty. Seconds later, she’s hugging Emmy Sue goodbye and exchanging phone numbers with her, and then, right before she turns to meet up with her family at the door, she tips her chin at me as one side of her mouth curls up wickedly.
“See ya at the wedding, James Levi.”
THURSDAY, JUNE 14
OH MY GOD.
Oh my God.
OH MY FUCKING GOD!
How in the world I just walked away from him—the most spectacular sampling of the male species I’ve ever seen up close and personal—I honestly don’t know. I should win an award for Most Willpower of the Century or some shit. Any other female between the ages of sixteen and eighty-six with a pulse would’ve taken him up on the offer his eyes made . . . and probably quite a few guys too. He really was that gorgeous. Jaw-dropping, breath-stealing, panty-wetting kind of gorgeous.
But, despite my sometimes debatable moral integrity, I’m not that kind of girl.
Even I, Dakota Marie Shavell, hold myself to some sort of standards, and showing up to a place with one guy and leaving with another is pretty close to the top of the “Unacceptable” list. My ranking on the sexual experience scale may fall closer to slutty than prude, but I’m at the top of the fucking class in regards to self-respect. Promiscuity doesn’t have to mean sleazy.
All that being said, I can’t help but feel a tiny bit of regret as I wait inside my Jeep for Rory, who I’m watching through my rearview mirror, engage in the most awkward goodbye hug I’ve ever witnessed with my older sister, Nali. It’s almost as if they’re afraid to touch at first, but then when they do, it seems a little too tight, a little too comfortable. When they let go, they jump away from each other as if they’ve been electrocuted and stare down at the ground self-consciously. Like I said, awkward with a capital A.
Yeah, I should probably be concerned about that . . . but I’m not. Instead, the vision of Mr. Button Fly bending me over the a table, hiking my yellow sundress up around my waist, and plunging his hard cock deep inside me flickers in my brain, causing me to clench my thighs together and squirm uncomfortably in my seat.
In fact, I’m pretty sure I heard him think those exact thoughts when we were being introduced, almost as if our brainwaves were tuned in to the same radio frequency. Like some unrealistic connection from one of those ridiculous romance novels Grams is always trying to get me to read. I must really need to get laid. All this abstinence is fucking with my head.
Finally, Rory climbs into his two-door black coupe and pulls out of