The Lucky in Love Collection - Lauren Blakely Page 0,39
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Out of nowhere, or perhaps out of today, Gabe’s face flickers before me, his lips, his smile.
For a moment, I try to resist. But my body is beyond fighting.
With those images, I go again, warring with my brain.
I try to shove away thoughts of him.
He’s a friend, only a friend.
But I’m seeing him take off his shirt, revealing his chest, then dipping his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and shucking them off.
Holy fuck.
I just undressed my best friend for the first time, and God, he looks beautiful naked.
He looks even better when he climbs on the bed and buries his face between my legs, devouring me. I pretend he’s here, and I’m telling him exactly what I want.
I come harder and longer.
When I turn off the rabbit, waves of pleasure still radiate through my legs like electric pulses. They crest over me, a true high, as I grab my phone and text him.
Arden: Hi . . . I did homework.
Gabe: I can’t wait for your book report.
My thumbs hover over the keys. Am I doing this? Am I going to tell him what comes out of my mouth?
I think of the book club ladies and their boldness. Of Madeline and her confidence on the job.
This is what it means to be a woman today—to own your choices.
I’m confident with my friends.
I’m good at my job.
And I want a rich and layered sex life.
Here goes.
23
Arden
I send a naughty text.
Arden: The rabbit worked . . . I used it twice.
Gabe: Excellent . . . glad to hear my hopping friend made you happy.
Arden: I was loud.
Gabe: Loud is so very good.
Arden: I said all sorts of things . . .
Gabe: Want to tell me?
God, I do. More than I thought I would. But if I’m going to woman up, I need to woman all the way up. I slide my finger over his contact info and hit his name.
He answers immediately. “Does this mean I get an oral report?”
He makes me laugh. He always makes me laugh. And maybe his laughter is the lubricant I need. “I want to practice. To say out loud to you all the things I think when I get off.”
“Say them to me.” His voice is husky, commanding.
I close my eyes, hearing the echo of my own words. “Fuck me.”
He murmurs, “That’s a great one.”
“Spread my legs. Oh God, spread them wider.” My breath stutters.
“Fuck. Yes.”
I’m on a roll, words falling free, tumbling from my mouth. “Get your face between my thighs.”
I don’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I say all the dirty words to him that I imagine saying to a lover. “I want to fuck your face. Please let me fuck your face.”
“Jesus Christ.” His groan is deep and carnal.
“Faster. Harder. Yes, like that. Oh God, just like that.”
I’m not even touching myself. I’m not getting off. I’m simply speaking, but something rattles loose in me. I’m finally saying these words out loud, not in my head, and it’s astonishing. A new aftershock of pleasure rushes over me as I let my fantasies have a voice, giving them sound and volume. “I want to come on your face.”
He’s silent. Dead silent, and I fear I’ve crossed a line.
“Gabe. Are you okay?”
“I’m. Great.” His voice is sandpaper. “All that stuff you said—is that what you say in your head when you’re touching yourself?”
“Yes. Is that weird? Is it too much?”
He lets out a long exhale. “That is the sexiest thing any woman anywhere has ever said.”
A smile spreads of its own accord, and my skin feels as if it’s glowing. “It is?”
“It so fucking is, and you need to be able to say all that when you’re actually having sex.”
“You really think I should say those things with someone else?”
“I guarantee that if you do, you will drive any man out of his mind with pleasure.”
Right now, I want that man to be him.
24
Arden
The next morning as I stroll through the town square on the way to work, I feel like everyone’s eyes are on me. Like they can see through me, an X-ray woman revealing all her risqué thoughts to the world on black-and-white film.
But no one stares, since all these wild, wonderful images are flicking by in my brain, only for me—images and sounds and memories of the things I said to Gabe, and that he said to me.