Page 110 of Bridesmaid for Hire
But I need to fucking know.
I need to know how to proceed. Was this a one-time thing for her? Can she come sit on my lap right now? Can I strip her out of my shirt and lick syrup off her nipples?
Sorry, but I can’t sit here in a state of uncertainty.
“So…last night,” I say like a chump because I don’t know how else to approach the topic.
“What about it?” she asks as she takes a bite of her pancakes.
Uh…what about it?
How about the fact that I feel like a different fucking man this morning, like you transformed me and I’m still trying to process how it was the best and worst decision of my life.
But I attempt to remain as casual as her. “You licked my nipple.”
Okay, maybe that wasn’t casual.
Her brows rise in such a cute way that it makes me want to pull her onto my lap and never let her go. “You licked my nipple as well. Is this a tit for tit thing?” she asks.
“Do you want it to be?”
Her nose crinkles in confusion until a small smile pulls at her lips. “Aw, Brody, do you not know how to handle a morning after?”
Apparently not.
“That’s cute.” She sits back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other. “No need to discuss—we can just go on with our regularly scheduled activities.”
So…she doesn’t want me to tell her that she gave me the best orgasm of my life and it was with just her mouth? She doesn’t want to know that I’m afraid I might be addicted to her tits? Or that if it were up to me, I’d be pulling her into that plunge pool right now, and stripping her down to nothing so I can have her again, but this time, have all of her?
Instead of pouring out my fucking heart over here—Jesus, man, get a grip—I cooly nod and say, “Great. Just the way I like it.”
She smiles and goes back to her pancakes.
What?
How can she be so casual about this?
I heard her last night.
I saw the way she shook.
The sounds she made.
The…
I freeze as the worst thing I could ever think of crosses through my mind. “Did you fake it last night?”
That causes her to stop her fork midway to her mouth. She blinks twice. “You’re asking if I faked it last night?”
“Uh…yes?” I ask in the form of a question, because the look in her eyes is actually sort of scaring me.
She sets her fork down and crosses her arms over her chest.
Uh-oh. She’s in defensive mode.
Is there a way to jump back to seconds ago and possibly ask her a different question?
Maybe something less offensive and more…thought-provoking? Like…how did my dick taste?
