really something else entirely.
I find it…adorable. Cute. Refreshing. All words I would never have associated with Buzz Wallace. Not at a first glance, or a second or third. I was too busy stereotyping him.
Shame on me.
The cool sheets brush my skin when I roll to face him, reminding me that I’m entirely naked. Reminding me that he’s just in boxers and hasn’t been pleasured yet. Pleased? Pleasured… Uh, yeah. He hasn’t had an orgasm, and he’s given me two: the dry humping on the floor at his parents’ house, and the oral in my living room.
Selfish, selfish, selfish.
And it’s been so long since I’ve had a dick inside me.
My legs rub together of their own accord, anxious. Excited.
“What’s that look?” Buzz raises a brow.
I raise mine. “What look?”
His hands come out from under the covers to point. “That one.”
I shrug and the covers drop from my chest, exposing my breasts. “I have a look? Huh.”
He visibly swallows.
Is he nervous?
Are my boobs his sexual kryptonite?
He can’t take his eyes off them, and I feel empowered, feminine.
I see if I can distract him. “Have you ever been on any dating apps?”
Buzz moves his eyes from my chest to my face. “Actually, I have.”
“Really!” Why does that surprise me? I expected him to say no. “Which ones?”
“TheBuzz, StupidCupid, and Hinder.”
He doesn’t elaborate, and I lean closer, wanting more information. “And?”
His head bobbles. “Andddd, I got reported for being a fake account so often I completely gave up.”
I can see that happening—makes sense. “Aren’t there apps out there for famous people?”
Buzz nods, reaching for my hip under the covers. “Yes, but I don’t want to date someone famous. Or a wannabe. Or a starlet, or a pop singer, or or or. I want to date someone normal.”
Does that mean he thinks I’m normal? ‘Cause I’m far from it; in fact, sometimes I feel as if I have more issues than a lifetime subscription to Cosmo.
“What about you?” His finger trails along my skin. “Are you on any dating apps?”
“A few, now and again. The problem is, I say some off-the-wall shit and scare lots of men away—but it’s my way of separating the men from the boys.”
“Off the wall? How?”
“Well.” I’m smiling. Clear my throat. “For example, if a guy’s profile has pictures of him both with a beard and without a beard, he might say, ‘I shaved my beard recently,’ to which I might reply, ‘Yeah, me too.’” I glance up at Buzz for his reaction. “They don’t always like that answer. It confuses them.”
He laughs.
“Oh!” I go on. “Once, a guy said he wanted to meet me right away and I agreed. It’s better to get it over and done with and out of the way than drag it out, because waiting just makes the disappointment worse if there is no chemistry in person.”
Buzz nods along with my story.
“So I say things like, ‘Here I am kicking stones down the sidewalk when it doesn’t work out, dragging my limp, red balloon.’” Buzz doesn’t think that is quite as funny. “The last guy to ask me out wanted to know if five o’clock was good for drinks, and I asked if we could make it later. ‘The later the better,’ I said. ‘The darker it gets, the better I look. Way cuter in dim lighting, unless you bring a paper bag to put over my head.’”
His eyes bug out of his skull. “You do not talk like that.”
I hold up two fingers. “Scout’s honor. Never fails to horrify or delight. There isn’t an in-between.” And if I had a cigar, I’d light it up and take a puff from it right now. Ahhh, the satisfaction from the look on his face.
Intrigue?
Admiration?
“You shouldn’t have fun at the expense of gullible young men,” he says with a laugh.
“I don’t want to date those men anyway, so good riddance. They don’t have balls big enough.”
“Whoa, Hollis!” Buzz laughs again, a booming one that has him reaching for me. “You’re kind of a monster—who knew?”
I knew.
I’ve always known I was a bit…sassy. Smartassy. Problem is, I have never met someone I could be myself with. It’s always been suppressed humor, and suppressed jokes, and suppressed sex drive.
What is it about him that makes me feel so…myself? Him of all the people on this earth?
Buzz—Trace, as I’d prefer to call him when we’re being intimate—gently caresses the curve of my hip with his palm. I can feel the callouses on the pads of his fingers, a reminder of