Sex Says

One lick.

Two licks, three.

I was officially lost.

A greedy groan left his lips as everything in him shifted. He wasn’t taking his time any longer; he was devouring me.

He licked and sucked and ate at my pussy ravenously, like he couldn’t get enough, and I soaked up every moment—insatiably, hungrily, and without inhibitions.

I clenched the cushion with my fingers, and my thighs tightened in anticipation as I felt that slow, aching build stir inside of me.

He licked.

It increased in intensity.

He sucked.

It reached a fever-pitch of hot, aching need that I couldn’t hold back.

The waves of my climax took over and left me breathless and clenching and wrapped softly in pure, beautiful bliss like I had never experienced.

But he didn’t stop.

No.

He ate at me, working me over with his mouth until the sensitivity turned to selfish need again, and my hips proved that point by thrusting upward toward his face.

He groaned his approval, and I came instantly. Again.

What in the ever-loving fuck was happening to me?

I wasn’t a multiple-orgasm type of girl. Hell, before this, I often questioned if anyone was really a multiple-orgasm type of girl. I’d started to wonder if multiple orgasms were a myth—and I made a living writing a goddamn sex column. But apparently, they had their place, high in the sky like the unicorns of the sex world.

And I had proof, as I was currently sitting on that majestical fucker’s back and riding it straight over the rainbow toward the pot of gold. Any second, leprechauns were probably going to start tap-dancing around my living room.

We were moving. Up and into his arms, Reed scooped me from the couch and carried me hurriedly toward my bedroom.

I looked over his shoulder comically, trying to make sure the unicorns came too.

I bounced once on the bed as Reed dropped me, slipped off his jeans, and slid on a condom. His body hovered over mine moments later. I felt his hard cock press against me, and I moaned. He slid himself against where I was hot and aching and throbbing, and I couldn’t stop myself from begging.

“Please, Reed.”

“You want my cock inside your tight little cunt?”

“Yes,” I whimpered.

He didn’t waste any time, sliding inside of me until he was pressed to the hilt.

“Holy fuck.” The pleasure was so intense that stars danced behind my eyes, and my thighs started to shake against his hips.

“You feel perfect wrapped around me,” he whispered in my ear as he continued to slide in and out, in and out, in the slowest, most insanity-inducing rhythm I had ever experienced.

“Please, Reed,” I begged again.

God, I just needed him to move. I needed him to go faster. I needed him to go harder. I needed him to fuck me deep.

His mouth met mine, and he kissed me, his tongue slipping past my lips and dancing with mine until he changed the rhythm of his tongue to mimic the movement of his cock.

“More. Please, more.”

“What do you want? Tell me what you need.”

Oh. My. God. I need you to fuck me. I was starting to get irritated with his form of delicious torture.

“Lola, I asked you a question, and I expect an answer. You have to tell me what you need, or I won’t give it to you.”

His cocky choice of words made me needier while also pissing me off. I groaned in irritation and slid my fingers into his hair, gripping the strands tight enough to force his gaze to mine. “Fuck me, Reed. I need you to fuck me, not just hang out with your dick inside me,” I demanded.

His blue eyes turned heated, and begging was a memory. Though, admittedly, kind of a good one.

Reed Luca fucked me. Raw, hard, angry kind of fucking until we both reached our climax together. And I loved every single second of it.

It wasn’t until my breaths slowed and my heart rate calmed that the full realization hit me.

I was lying naked in bed with Reed Luca.

Oh, and I had just fucked him, too.

Yeah.

I just had sex with Reed Luca.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Time for you to go.

Lola—

No. Please, for once, do what I’m asking and go.

With desperation and embarrassment swallowing her face, and the top sheet of her bed swallowing her small body, I’d done what she asked.

I’d have done fucking anything she asked and then some, but I motherfucking hated that what she wanted was for me to be gone. It was the very first time I’d ever felt such strong dislike for anything, ever. Action, decision, obligation—this was the absolute worst thing I’d ever put myself through at the hands of someone else.

Still, I’d done it. For Lola.

But the rest of the night had been goddamn torture. One restless dream after another, I’d pictured how unequipped I was to handle a substantial relationship wrestling with how badly I found myself wanting one like fucking WWE stars.

Bound by my emotions, I’d run one errand before coming here—one I’d sworn I’d never cave to—to the STT Wireless store for a cell phone. I felt bewildered and out of my element and completely opposed to change, but one nagging thing trumped any and all of those simple doubts.

If Lola ever wanted me gone again, there was no way I’d be bound and gagged by my own disassociation with modern communication.

I’d be able to get in touch with her, and more than that, she’d be able to get in touch with me. Always.

“Lola, answer the door. I know you’re in there,” I yelled as I knocked.

Only thirty seconds or so passed. “No, I’m not,” she muttered, the sound muffled by the thick wood door between us.

I smiled. Thirty seconds wasn’t bad compared to what I was expecting.

God, her face last night. She’d looked horrified.

“Come on, LoLo. Open the door for Uncle Reed. I promise not to touch you in the bad way,” I cajoled.

I heard the chain give just before the support of the door left my face. It wasn’t exactly the line that I thought would gain me entry, but I wasn’t complaining.

Disgust tinged the corners of her eyes as they met mine. Apparently, I’d won this one solely on shock value. “That is so horribly inappropriate and creepy.”

She wore sleep shorts and a baggy T-shirt, and her pink-tipped feet were bare. Disheveled and falling around her face, her hair entranced me, and it was all I could do not to reach out and run a hand through the silky strands.

“I know,” I admitted easily. “But if we’re operating on a system made up of strictly punishment and reward, you’ve just completely derailed my training.”

“What training?” she mumbled, opening the door for me to step inside.

“Wasn’t that the theme of last week’s column? ‘Train your man to be the man you want him to be’ or some other such bullshit?”

“That was not what I said! It was about oral techniques, for fuck’s sake!”

There she is. The Lola I knew so well—enjoyed so much—was coming out to play. “Huh. Mine might need some revision, then.”

“What? What did you say? Let me see it!”

I pulled the folded piece of paper from my back pocket and handed it over.

“Fellatio-addicted MILFs stuff their mouths with thirteen-inch man meat?”

“Oh, shit,” I muttered through a laugh. “Wrong paper. My bad.” Surprisingly on topic, though.

I reached to my other back pocket for my actual article and then held out my hand for her to make the switch.

“Wait, wait, wait!” she shrieked. “You can’t just drop a paper in my hands with the words ‘Fellatio-addicted MILFs stuff their mouths with thirteen-inch man meat’ and then not address it.”

“Sure, I can.”

“Reed!”

“Relax. It’s just research for my next column,” I lied.

“Reed Luca!”

“Ooh, the last name, huh? Okay. I had a minor role in a B-list porno right when I got out of high school—”

“No, you didn’t!” She poked me straight in the chest, and I laughed.

“I didn’t. You’re right. But if I had, it definitely would have been in a film entitled like this one.”

“I thought you’d never measured?”

I almost said something about how she would know, but thankfully, thought better of it. I was just getting her into the swing of our normal back-and-forth. No need to go and make it awkward by addressing the really, really intense sex in the room.

Instead, I smiled. “You’re right. And thirteen inches? Fuck me, are those moms still alive?”

“I doubt it…” she said before pausing. “Stop changing the subject! What is this?”

I yanked the paper from her hands just as she looked down to read it.

“Give that back!”

“No.”

“Oh my God, you are seriously the most infuriating person on the planet.”

“You liked me last night.” Oh, shit. Watch it, Reed, my inner voice chastised.

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t turn meek. “I did not.”

I decided maybe it was safe to test the waters. The plan was to address it eventually, after all. Christ, I wanted a repeat, not just to address it. But I had to start somewhere. “That’s not liking me? Geez, Lo. What do you look like when you like someone?”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t,” I asserted. “And if you read the paper now, it will completely ruin the game later.”

Her eyes sparkled with both suspicion and excitement. Mental note: LoLo likes games.