More Than Dare You - Shayla Black Page 0,5
that twenty minutes of being with me cost him a hundred and fifty dollars.” She wrinkles her nose. “He said at that rate it was like paying for sex.”
I’m speechless. Seriously. The basic math involved is easy to understand, but the sentiment is fucking ridiculous. “That might be the most unromantic thing I’ve ever heard. And you put up with this?”
She sighs. “He wasn’t always like that. When I was in high school and he was just starting college, everything was different. We both had demanding academic tracks, plus I had activities, parents, friends… He had his frat stuff. We made it work, even though we couldn’t see each other all that often. But once I finished college and he started practicing law, we moved in together. Our relationship got more complicated. I think I expected everything between us would be ‘normal,’ that we’d finally have time together. Instead, it seemed like we both got busy and sex became less of a priority.”
“Wow.” He sounds like an asshole, and I’m guessing your relationship sucked. “Tell me what a typical ‘appointment’ was like.”
“I’d rather not.” She grimaces. “It’s really personal.”
“I totally get that. But I don’t know how else to make sure I give you what you want.” And probably need.
Has this girl ever had a decent orgasm in her life?
She rolls her eyes, reluctantly and silently admitting that I have a point. “He insisted I brush my teeth and take a shower after dinner. Then about nine, we’d meet in the bedroom.”
“Always the bedroom?”
“Yes. He couldn’t handle the thought of germs or bodily fluids anywhere else in the apartment.”
So he’d treated her like she had cooties? “What then?”
“We’d kiss a little, and sometimes he’d touch me. Then he’d put on a condom, and…you know.”
“I do.” And that must have been dull as fuck. “I take it he wasn’t much for oral sex?”
“Receiving it, sure.”
So Thom was uptight and selfish? “Not a lot of foreplay, huh?”
“Not as much as I would have liked.”
“Did you tell him that?”
She nodded. “He told me I shouldn’t be self-absorbed and that what he did had worked for his former girlfriends.”
He doesn’t just sound like an asshole; he clearly is one.
Based on everything Masey said, anal was obviously out of the equation. Hell, she’d never even enjoyed a raunchy fuck at midnight, much less rung in a blissfully sated dawn.
As gorgeous as she is, that’s a total waste.
“Damn it, the more I talk about this, the more pathetic I sound,” she grumbles.
“No. If he’s the only sexual partner you’ve ever had…”
“He is.”
“And he’s had others…”
“A few.”
My guess is more than a few, but no sense in making her feel any more self-defeated than she does. “Then in my mind, it was his responsibility to help you have the best experience you could.”
“I think he tried.”
No, he hadn’t. “So what happened if you said you wanted to explore a different position?”
“He preferred to be on top.”
Mr. Missionary, huh? “Or you wore something slinky to bed?”
“He thought lacy lingerie was low-class and didn’t suit me. He preferred me to be reserved. Ladylike.”
Since he dumped Masey for a girl who masturbates on the internet, I’m calling bullshit. “So you wore what before an appointment for sex?”
“A bathrobe.”
That makes no sense to me, and I can’t avoid shaking my head. The notion of Masey in something plunging, lacy, and see-through in the same shade of red as her dress has me sweating.
“What’s the thing he did in bed you liked most?”
She doesn’t even hesitate. “Sometimes he would cuddle me afterward.”
The cuddling was better than the sex? Given what she’d described, I shouldn’t be shocked, but holy shit… “Thing you liked the least?”
“He wasn’t really into kissing. Not like deep, passionate kisses. He’d press his lips to mine, brush them over mine, and even nip at my bottom lip every so often. But he never…” She winces like what she’s about to admit is really difficult and embarrassing.
“Never what?”
“French kissed me.”
There’s no stopping the shock. “Never?”
“No.”
“Not even once?”
“No.”
Fuck me. This girl might not be a virgin in the strictest sense of the word, but she’s distinctly inexperienced. If she’s still game, it’s my job—my duty, even—to show her exactly what she’s been missing. And I’ll be damned if I don’t do it so fucking right she can’t see straight. In fact, I’m looking forward to it.
“You think that’s crazy.” She looks embarrassed as she stares down into her nearly empty glass of wine.
“Crazy isn’t the right word. I think your ex