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very
intriguing.
“Ok, well that’s out there now,” I chuckle,
rising to stand up.
“Wait, Lo,” he says, reaching for my hand and
gently stroking my knuckles with his thumb. “Don’t get weird about
it. I just wanted to know. I’m not judging you or trying to make
you feel embarrassed. If anything, I think it’s kind of cute.
You’re so fuckin’ innocent and you have no idea how sexy that is to
me.”
I almost don’t know how to respond. I’m
comforted by the fact that he doesn’t want me to feel shy about
what I’ve just revealed. I’m simultaneously touched and annoyed
that he finds this “cute” and I’m just a tad surprised that he’s
described my naiveté as sexy.
“Don’t feel bad for telling me, ok?” he
softly requests. “Don’t ever feel bad for telling me any sexual
stuff. I tell you everything, for fuck’s sake, so there’s nothing
you could say to me that would make me look at you different. You
can tell me anything, anytime, anywhere.”
I kiss his cheek and hug him. “Thanks for not
making me feel super weird about it—even if you were a total shit
for laughing when you first cornered me and poked at me until I
told you.”
He wraps his arms around me lovingly and
kisses the top of my head. “Hey, somebody’s gotta poke you if you
ever want to come.”
I sit up and smack him in the shoulder, which
makes him laugh hard.
We return to the task at hand and decide to
watch Young Frankenstein—a regular movie, the kind that doesn’t
feature gaping orifices and dildos of varying sizes. By the time
it’s over, I’m feeling pretty tired, so James says I should take
the first shower so I can get to bed.
I tie my hair up in a bun, too sleepy to wash
and dry it. I lather up with soap and think about the fun day I had
with James, Chad and Alejandro on the yacht. Chad said James was
into me. I know it’s dumb, but it puts a smile on my face even now.
James has been “into” a lot of girls—figuratively and literally—and
I can’t help but feel flattered at the mere possibility that I
might be one of them. He finds me attractive, that I know, but is
he into me?
When I’m all done, I slide back the shower
curtain and gasp when I see him standing in the bathroom looking
right at me. My hands frantically reach for a towel and I wrap it
around myself as I quickly try to hide my naked body.
“Lo, I’ve been thinking about what you said,”
he says with a furrowed brow like he’s in deep concentration. “I
think we should do it.”
“Do it? Do what? Not … you can’t mean that
…?” I reply, my rushed tone betraying how flustered I feel.
“No, not that we should fuck or
anything—unless you want to—but I mean that I think you should let
me see if I can make you come—‘cause, baby, you know I’m the man
for that job.”
I laugh loudly and step out of the shower,
tightening the towel across my chest.
“Just let me try it, huh?” he smiles at me
through the mirror as I brush my teeth. “I could knock it out in
two fuckin’ flicks of my tongue.”
“No fucking way I’m doing that!” I
chuckle.
“Why not? I’m really good at it, not to brag
or anything,” he playfully boasts.
“Nope, not happening,” I shake my head.
I rinse my mouth and then go into the
bedroom, slipping my gray, jersey knit nightie over me before
pulling my towel off discretely. He follows me and watches as I
slide my panties on under the shield of my nightie.
I lift the covers and start crawling into bed
when he comes over, catches my ankle and kneels off the side of the
bed in front of me.
“Lola, you gotta let me make you come
tonight,” he says. “It’s gonna drive me fuckin’ insane for years if
I don’t do it. I can’t know that you’re walking around never having
felt that.
“Seriously?” I ask with surprise. Can he
really mean that?
“Yes, baby,” he says in a smooth, sensual
tone. “I want to do it so bad. I, like, need to make you come.”
“Um,” I