Page 66 of Stroked by (Stroked)
“Yup.” I nod, not elaborating.
“What’s his name?”
I shake my head. “Not going to happen. I’m not going to tell you his name so you can meander on Facebook and stalk him. Just let me figure this out on my own. Okay?”
Jonathan doesn’t look pleased, but he will learn to live with my decision, at least until I figure out how I’m going to handle this.
“Does he at least make you happy?”
Last night—I know it’s going to sound lame—I saw stars. Reese brought me to a place of pleasure I’ve never experienced before. And then this morning, tangled in his limbs, making out and holding each other, it was romantic, sweet, memorable. I spent the entire day with a smile on my face, unable to stop thinking about the man.
“He does,” I say shyly, my hands twisting in my lap from the need to text him.
“Holy shit, he does. Look at you, you’re all giddy.”
“Am not.” I turn away from him, bringing the beer to my mouth so Jonathan can’t see the smile plastered across my face.
“You are giddy. Damn, Paisley. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.” I just shrug my shoulders, entirely too shy to talk about this with Jonathan. “Can I just ask you one thing?”
“I’m not telling you his name,” I respond, exhausted.
“I’m not going to ask that. This is serious.” He takes a deep breath and stares directly into my eyes. “Does he have a bigger penis than me?”
I roll my eyes and get off the couch, giving him my leftover beer. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“Where are you going?”
“To bed,” I call out over my shoulder. “I have an early flight in the morning. Bellini was kind enough to let me book a middle seat in coach on the earliest flight out to Omaha while she is taking her private jet. But don’t worry. I have a list of chores I have to do to her hotel room before she arrives. Who knew hiring a priest to bless a room upon arrival was a thing?”
Jonathan laughs. “So glad I got you this job.”
“Me too,” I answer, secretly grateful for the chance to meet Reese.
“But seriously, is his dick bigger?”
Knowing this will never end, I say, “Yes, by a few inches.”
“Bullshit,” he calls out. “You’ve seen it erect. It’s not a fair comparison. Let me get hard for you. Then you can make an accurate assessment.”
“Don’t even think about it.” I slam my bedroom door and run straight to my phone where there is a text waiting for me from Reese.
Reese: You owe me big time for ditching me tonight for your other lover.
Why are the men in my life completely impossible? I quickly get ready for bed, change into another tank top, this one less revealing, and a pair of boy shorts. I have a roommate for when I’m staying in Omaha, so I’ve packed all my clean and non-revealing pajamas. Once ready, I hop into bed, turn off my light, and text Reese back.
Paisley: Poor baby. How could I ever possibly make it up to you?
He must be relaxing because he texts me right back.
Reese: Send me a picture of your tits. That should hold me over until tomorrow.
Paisley: Sorry big man. I don’t sext pictures of myself. Don’t you learn anything from social media?
Reese: Do you really think I would ever show anyone a picture of you topless? I can barely stand the fact that you live with another man.
Paisley: I’m not saying you would, per se, but there are some really good hackers out there. My tits are going to have to live on in your memory.
Reese: And here I thought you were in the business of making things up to me.
