Page 98 of Filthy Beautiful
I was pretty sure he hadn’t come back to the poolhouse since.
Tonight, I knew he was at Brody Mason’s bachelor party. I only knew about the party from my girls, the Lil Brats. I’d talked to Angeline; she’d told me her sister, Elle, was at the bachelorette party. Dirty had come home on a tour break, and Brody, Dirty’s manager, was marrying Jessa Mayes, their songwriter.
Romantic.
Not that I was jealous or anything.
Elle’s man, Seth, and all the guys had gone to Jesse Mayes’ place for the bachelor party.
I knew Xander had to be there.
He was probably screwing some stripper in the bathroom right now.
He was avoiding me, for sure.
Was I shocked about this? Yes, actually. I was totally fucking shocked.
Because Xander Rush was a manslut—this fact was not in question; I had proof.
And now, I knew he wanted me.
I really wasn’t sure about that until I invaded the poolhouse and climbed into bed with him. IthoughtI’d felt something from him when I kissed him last weekend—when I told him I was a virgin. He’d kissed me back, for a few moments.
But last night, he’d totally freaked out when I pinned him down. His eyes had glazed over the way a guy’s eyes only did when he got a hard-on. He’d flipped me on my back and I could feel his entire body react—he was burning up, sweating for me. I could see the heat on his face.
He was practically panting as he kissed me, dry-humping me, and I’dfelthis excitement.
Against my leg… and my hip… and my clit.
He’d ground his big, hard dick against me… and then he’d slipped his hand down and touched me like he wanted to make me come… And maybe I would have.
If he didn’t stop.
Why wouldn’t he screw me??
I told him I wanted to. I was in his bed, practically begging for it with my words, my body. What more did a male slut need?
Was it just because I was Cary’s little sister?
Or was it because he now knew I was a virgin with no experience…?
Was that a turn-off?
How would I ever know, if he wouldn’t tell me?
You’re not like those other girls.
I thought guys were supposed to like the virgin thing. Shayla said so, anyway. She kept going on about it like whoever I bestowed my V-card on was gonna drop to his knees and kiss my feet.
Apparently not so much.
I couldn’t give this thing away. To a manslut, in his bed, while wearing a slutty bikini.
I quit.
Again.
Maybe I’d just have to stay a virgin forever. Because clearly I was doing something seriously wrong.
