More Than Her by Jay McLean Read Free Book Online Page B

of me. I bet you can't wait to take me out again." She rolled her eyes and looked down to the floor.
    I laughed. "It's cool. You're passionate. There's nothing wrong with that. Wait till you meet my friend Lucy. You guys would get along so well. She's always reading at the-"
    "You want me to meet your friends?" she asked, there was confusion in her voice, but hopefulness too.
    "Why wouldn't I?"
    She shrugged and took a seat in front of the cd rack and started reading out album names loudly, occasionally pulling one out. I sat on the floor next to her and waited. "You really do like everything. There's hip-hop, pop, reggae, country?" Her head whipped to mine.
    I shrugged, "I'm eclectic."
    "You have every John Mayer album and single ever released." She pulled one out and looked on the back.
    I bought her to me so she was straddling me again. She didn't refuse, but her eyes never left the CD. "So what's the deal with John Mayer?"
    I started kissing her neck. I couldn't help it. Her head tilted to the side, giving me better access. "Hey, don't knock John Mayer. He's practically a God," I said, pulling back to face her. "Your Body Is A Wonderland is a fucking anthem. Do you know how many times I've gotten lai-" I caught myself quickly, "...ooked at...while that song's played?"
    She laughed, pulling back from my mouth. "How many times have you been 'layooked' at?" She giggled some more. "I don't think 'layook' is word."
    "It is so a word. Google it."
    She pushed me until I fell flat on my back. Then her hand was in my pocket. My body jerked when her hand brushed against my dick. "What are you doing?"
    She smirked, holding my phone in her hand. "Googling your imaginary word." She slid her finger across the screen and started typing, "So, unless I'm spelling it wrong, layook is not a word."
    She raised her eyebrows at me.
    I grabbed the phone from her hand and threw it across the room. "Yeah, you spelt it wrong." I sat up and started kissing her neck again, moving lower to her chest. I heard her moan quietly. My fingers on her waist dug into her skin the closer I got to her tits. She grabbed my head in both her hands and made me face her.
    "How do I always end up in this position," she said, her arms around my neck.
    I kissed her a couple times. "I like this position. In fact, consider this permanent."
    She laughed into my mouth before pushing me back down onto my back.
    "So." Her fingers started roaming my chest, and lower to my abs, her eyes following. "I'm not going to ask — about what happened when you were younger — but you said that you didn't speak for a while — what changed?" Her eyes moved up to meet mine.
    I looked at her, trying to decide how much of myself I want to give her.
    "What do you mean?" I asked, giving myself time.
    "Well, what helped you to talk again? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm sorry. It's probably extremely personal. Never mind — "
    "If I tell you, then you have to tell me something about you. Deal?"
    She nodded.
    "Okay," I sat up slightly, leaning on my elbows. "My dad made up this game, to help me. It's called two truths for fifteen."
    "How do you play?"
    "It's so stupid, you're going to laugh."
    "No I won't. Swear it." She pouted.
    "It's just — " I laughed at how stupid it was going to sound. "We asked each other a question and had to tell the truth, and we talked about it for fifteen minutes. See? Stupid."
    "It's not stupid. It's really sweet. Your dad seems like a nice guy."
    "He is. He's the best." Truth. "Your turn."
    She eyed the ceiling a moment, before answering. "You know how I hate blood?" I jerked my head in a nod. "It kind of really sucks, because I want to be a midwife." She paused and waited. "You can laugh now."
    "Why? It's not funny. That sucks. Why midwife though?"
    She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I love the idea of bringing life into the world. Being one of the first to hold a miracle, you know? Babies — that's what they are. Miracles. I guess I