Page 63 of Playing the Backbeat

“Holy fuck, Dee.” I groan.

I can hear her breathing, rapid, heaving breaths as she comes down from the high. Mine are labored and quick.

“Okay, well…have a good night, roomie.” I hear her footsteps padding to her room, then finally, her bedroom door closing behind her.

My head falls softly against the door, my hand still wrapped around my dick, shirt an absolute mess, but nothing…nothing is more wrecked than my mind. Two questions cycling on repeat through my mind for the few minutes it takes to collect myself.

I hop into the shower, get ready for bed, and lie down, thoughts racing still between the only two questions my brain can manage.

What the fuck was that?

When can we do it again?

Chapter twenty-eight

Dee

“Harder.Deeper.Faster. Come on, ladies, I want to see you shaking,” the fitness instructor calls from the front of the room.

“Hot damn,” I mumble. “I don’t think I’ve ever been hit on this many times in an hour.”

“She’s not hitting on you.” Bec laughs. “She’s telling you to stop half-assing this workout.”

“Hey, I’m full-assing this workout, thank you very little.” My rebuttal loses all its merit as I collapse onto my mat, my muscles unable to hold out any longer.

Good thing we’re in the back of the room for this workout class. I don’t want the instructor to attempt to motivate me back into the exercise. I can’t keep a straight face with her narration.

“Okay,” she says, clapping her hands together. “Time to grab everyone’s favorite toy. Booties up. Put it at the base of your spine.”

I can’t control my giggling.

“She’s talking about the exercise ball, Dee,” Abby says, laughing along with me.

“Sure, she is. Everyone’s favorite toy, my ass.”

“Tuck that pelvis. Now, pulse. Pulse. Pulse. To the beat. Squeeze those cheeks, ladies. Feel it burn.”

“If anything starts burning, I’m out of here,” I whisper.

“Dylan’s maturity, or lack thereof, is wearing off on you,” Ellie states from the other side of Bec.

“Hey, I was funnybeforeI lived with him,” I say defensively.

“I say immature, and you hear funny.” Ellie struggles to muffle her laughter.

“Uh, yeah. Your point? They’re synonymous in our household.” I finally put my not-so-favorite toy—the fucking exercise ball—at the base of my spine like the rest of the girls and pulse. Images of last night filter through my mind, and I smile thinking of Dylan groaning just on the other side of his door. “Speaking of favorite toys…I need a new vibrator. Anyone have any affordable recommendations for a girl on a budget?”

“What happened to your arsenal of…accessories? Why do you need a new one?” Carissa asks.

“Old reliable didn’t show up for me last night. And the stakes haveneverbeen higher. I need someone I can count on.”

“I’m almost scared to ask,” Bec says, dropping her head to the floor.

“I mean, if you can’t count on your vibrator to get you off when you’re trying to prove a point to your roommate in a masturbation standoff, then clearly you can’t count on it for anything.”

All four of my friends stop pulsing, their bodies stilling, leaving me as the last one standing in this goddamn bridge position, squeezing my glutes to the point of pain, thrusting into nothingness. Kinda like last night.

“Come again?” Abby asks.