Page 152 of Dream House
Still laughing, Lark works his thumb between my fingers, freeing his nipple, and rolls me onto my back. His naked weight pins me to the bed.
“I mean if I’da known then that the girl I’d be crazy about in fourteen years liked to Jill-off, I wouldn’t have felt like such a perv during my formative years.”
“Oh… well… okay then.” I wriggle my hand between us and pet his wronged nipple lovingly. “Sorry about the titty-twister.”
Lark throws his head back in laughter.
“You’re forgiven.”
I wickedly narrow my eyes. “No need to go to confession?”
He purses his lips in mock consideration. “For that? No.” He puts on a stern expression. “Masturbating to Justin Timberlake, now that’s a sin.”
Now I laugh. “If I confess, do I have to stop doing it?”
He hisses in his breath.
“You still masturbate to Justin Timberlake?” His question is all air.
I circle his nipple with one fingertip before letting my hand travel lower. “Not to Justin Timberlake,” I say coyly. “Not these days, anyway.”
His eyes blaze. “What, then?”
I swallow, but the heat in his gaze makes me feel all confidence. Zero shame.
I wriggle from underneath him, and he lifts his weight so I can reach my phone on my bedside table. I open my Spotify app and quickly find my Solo playlist. The eerily erotic notes of “Heaven” by Julia Michaels fill the room. And Michaels begins to sing, ironically, about religion and faith.
Lark licks his lips like he’s dying of thirst. He presses up to his knees and the blankets slide down his back. If I had any doubt that he’s as turned on as I am again, there’s no room for that anymore.
No room at all.
“Show me.”
It’s the last thing in the world I thought I’d do. But when he looks at me like that, it’s easy.
So I show him.
For about ten seconds. And then he grips himself.
And. Oh. My. God.
Watching him touching himself like that. Watching me.
We’re not even through the three-minute song, when Lark is ripping open another condom.
This time, when he collapses on me, both of us wrung out and drenched in sweat, I press a kiss to his ear.
“I don’t think—” I have to pause to catch my breath, “your mother would like me very much.”
ChapterTwenty-Four
LARK
She’s wrong.
This is what I’m sure of as Stella sleeps in my arms.
Mom would love her.
