Bang Theory
Page 1
Bang Theory
Lili Valente
Contents
Bang Theory
About the Book
Also by Lili Valente
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Tell Lili Your Favorite Part
Sneak Peek
About the Author
Also by Lili Valente
Bang Theory
By Lili Valente
About the Book
Advice from my Future Self: Don’t Ask Your Best Guy Friend to Give you Nookie Lessons.
Oops. Too late.
I already begged my rock star BFF to give me lessons in seduction.
And sweet, strong, always-has-my-back Shep already let me down easy, proving I have zero game, even with people who profess to care about me.
Now, I’ll never live down my embarrassment or figure out why I’m a failure with the opposite sex.
Or so I assume…until Shep changes his mind, agreeing to three weeks of red hot study buddy time before he goes on tour and we part ways as friends.
Shep swears he can’t give me what I need in a real relationship, but the more time we spend together, the more certain I am he’s the only one who can. And I'm going to pull out all the stops to convince my uber-protective tutor that I can handle anything life—or love—throws our way.
Also by Lili Valente
Red HOT Laugh-out-Loud Rom Coms
The Bangover
Bang Theory
Bang on Loosely
Learn more here
The Hunter Brothers
The Baby Maker
The Troublemaker
The Heartbreaker
The Panty Melter
Click here to learn more
The Bad Motherpuckers Series (Standalones)
Hot as Puck
Sexy Motherpucker
Puck-Aholic
Puck me Baby
Pucked Up Love
Puck Buddies
Click here to learn more
Sexy Flirty Dirty Romantic Comedies (Standalones)
Magnificent Bastard
Spectacular Rascal
Incredible You
Meant for You
Click here to learn more
The Master Me Series
(Red HOT erotic Standalone novellas)
Snowbound with the Billionaire
Snowed in with the Boss
Masquerade with the Master
Click here to learn more
Bought by the Billionaire Series
(HOT novellas, must be read in order)
Dark Domination
Deep Domination
Desperate Domination
Divine Domination
Click here to learn more
Kidnapped by the Billionaire Series
(HOT novellas, must be read in order)
Filthy Wicked Love
Crazy Beautiful Love
One More Shameless Night
Click here to learn more
Under His Command Series
(HOT novellas, must be read in order)
Controlling her Pleasure
Commanding her Trust
Claiming her Heart
Click here to learn more
To the Bone Series
(Sexy Romantic Suspense, must be read in order)
A Love so Dangerous
A Love so Deadly
A Love so Deep
Click here to learn more
Fight for You Series
(Emotional New Adult Romantic Suspense.
Must be read in order.)
Run with Me
Fight for You
Click here to learn more
Lover’s Leap Series
A Naughty Little Christmas
The Bad Boy’s Temptation
Click here to learn more
The Lonesome Point Series
(Sexy Cowboys written with Jessie Evans)
Leather and Lace
Saddles and Sin
Diamonds and Dust
12 Dates of Christmas
Glitter and Grit
Sunny with a Chance of True Love
Chaps and Chance
Ropes and Revenge
8 Second Angel
Click here to learn more
Co-written Standalones
The V Card (co-written with Lauren Blakely)
Falling for the Boss (co-written with Sylvia Pierce)
Click here to learn more
The Happy Cat Series
(co-written with Pippa Grant)
Hosed
Hammered
Hitched
Humbugged
Click here to learn more
To the good guys. We appreciate you.
Chapter One
Bridget
There ain’t no party like a dildo party because a dildo party don’t stop…
Seriously.
It’s never going to stop.
I’m never going to get out of here.
I’m going to spend the rest of my life blushing furiously in sex-party limbo, fading slowly from the memories of my family and friends. Until someday, centuries from now, scientists will discover my shriveled, mummified corpse tucked between the couch cushions next to the pretzel sticks I dropped when Collette pulled out a giant veiny purple dildo as long as my forearm.
I can imagine the scene now, the way the scientists’ brows will furrow as they analyze the mortification particles lingering in my bone marrow, wondering why I didn’t get out before it was too late.
I’m wondering the same thing myself—and considering a trip to the bathroom that ends with sneaking down the fire escape of Colette’s third floor apartment to the sweet freedom of the sex-toy-free autumn day outside—when my best friend slaps me in the face with a penis.
Right in the kisser.
Unsuspecting mouth? Meet giant purple schlong. You may call him Barney, the unfriendly dinosaur-sized dildo.
“Oh my God, Bridge, I’m so sorry!” Theodora—Theo to those in her inner circle—laughs in embarrassment while the rest of the party erupts in tipsy giggles. She reaches for my face, her fingers gently probing my upper lip. “Are you okay, babe? You were so quiet I didn’t realize you were still sitting there. I thought you’d gone to the bathroom again.”
“Nope. Still here.” I force my bruised mouth into a smile and shoo her well-meaning fingers away. “I’m fine. It didn’t hurt.”
“But your face is bright red,” Theo insists, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Do you think you’re having an allergic reaction to the latex? Some people do, you know. Latex allergies can be as deadly as food allergies. I had a woman in the restaurant the other day who, believe it or not, was allergic to marshmallows. Said they made her throat close up like a vise.” Theo makes a slurping sound and balls her hand into a fist. “Just like that. Even worse than when my mom eats a strawberry.” Her dark eyebrows furrow into a more fretful squiggle. “But your face is way pinker than a strawberry, baby.”
“Some might say she’s gone cherry red,” Wicked Willa, my high school nemesis, mutters beneath her brea
th, inspiring another drunken giggle from Nasty Nancy, her little sister and lifelong evil sidekick.
“Or pomegranate,” Theo muses, missing the dig, as usual.
Theo is a sweetheart and therefore expects only sweetness from others. She has no idea that Willa’s been teasing me about being the world’s oldest virgin since I was sixteen, and I’m not about to fill her in. Theo would rush to my defense and inevitably end up making things worse.
Theo is a lovely human, but she never knows when to keep quiet and leave well enough alone. Give her ten minutes and Willa and Nancy will know my entire sexual history, from Nathan, my first live-in boyfriend, to Nathan my last live-in boyfriend. And I’m savvy enough to know that having slept with only one guy at the ripe old age of twenty-six is almost as mock-worthy as being the proud owner of Hidden Kill Bay’s oldest hymen.
So I promise, “I’m good. Just a little warm,” and smile harder, while Colette shoots me an apologetic look across the snack-and-dildo-littered coffee table.
As the most gorgeous woman in Maine, and perhaps the universe, Colette has likely never seen this side of Willa before. The Wretched Wright sisters are like vultures. They only pick on the wounded or socially dead, leaving the healthy, beautiful creatures to enjoy their lives in peace.
They’d certainly never mess with a unicorn like Colette, with her lavender-streaked, white-blond hair and dazzling eyes—one blue and one a deliciously murky green. And she’s just as sparkly and magical on the inside, which she proves by diverting the conversation to safer ground.
“But it’s like I was telling Matteo the other day—size truly doesn’t matter all that much.” Colette lifts a tiny white dildo the size of a small egg, her lips curving into a wicked grin. “This little darling gets all the jobs done, and it’s small enough to fit in your makeup case when you travel.”
Abby, the daughter of my hospitality director and the fifth and final member of the party, who thankfully doesn’t seem traumatized by this insane dildo-fest I suggested she attend, giggles as she plucks the toy from Colette’s hand. “Come on. You can’t expect us to believe that Matteo has a tiny peen. Your man is built like a brick house, lady. Like Thor, but real, with longer, browner, glossier hair.”
“He’s so pretty,” Nancy agrees, before quickly backtracking. “I mean handsome. He’s super handsome. And that body.” She sighs her way into a snort-giggle. “Just to die for. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I got to touch that every night.”
“Well, not every night. He has to stay late at the office a lot,” Colette says, demurely. “And I was just kidding, of course. I’d never discuss my lover’s bits and pieces in public.”
“Oh, I would,” Willa pipes up, tipping another hefty pour of champagne into the orange juice at the bottom of her glass. “I’ll discuss Chris’s, anyway. The size is fine, but the enthusiasm has left the fucking building, people. I swear, I’d think he was having an affair if I hadn’t had him followed and confirmed that he’s actually going bowling three times a week like a complete loser.”
I wince, sad for Chris, even though he wasn’t very nice to me in high school, either.
Still, I wouldn’t talk about Willa like that, let alone my husband.
If I had a husband.
Or a boyfriend.
Or a friend with benefits.
At this point, I’d settle for any semi-positive interaction with the opposite sex, but something about me seems to repel males of the species. I’ve been told I’m “cute” my entire life, so I’m pretty sure my looks aren’t the problem. At five eight, I’m a little tall for some guys—if they care about that sort of thing—but my shoulder-length, slightly curly brown hair, blue eyes, and freckle-dusted nose are conventionally attractive. My facial features are symmetrical, and I jog enough to be in good shape, despite the number of pastries I devour on a weekly basis.
So maybe it’s my conversational choices? My laugh? My lack of flirting skills? My scent? Maybe I’m missing a pheromone that other women start producing during puberty and need to supplement with synthetic pheromone perfume? Perhaps this is even something Colette’s sex-toy company might sell in addition to dildos…
When I accepted this invite, I was hoping we’d get around to discussing men and relationships, and I’d be able to get some advice on improving my dating game from women who are out in the trenches.
But then I walked in the door and saw Wicked Willa circling the petit four tray like a shark with a sweet tooth and knew today was not the day for honest sharing.
At least not on my part.
Willa, however, seems to be having no trouble letting loose.
“Like, have you guys experienced this?” she asks, her words slurring more with every slug of champagne. “A man in his twenties who can’t get it up on the regular? Because, I mean, Chris is twenty-nine, but… I mean, that’s still so young, right?”
“So young,” Nancy echoes sadly.
“And I mean, like, I’m no slut or anything, but I want to have sex, you know? At least once a week or twice. Especially if I’ve been dieting, because eating nothing but kale makes me super horny for some reason,” Willa continues. “But that is not how shit is going down at my place. And I keep myself in great shape and wear sexy lingerie and everything, but Chris is just like…” She holds up a finger that she curls into a sad droop, her glossy pink lips following suit.
Abby and Colette cluck sympathetically while Theo hums beneath her breath.
Theo usually can’t keep quiet to save her life, but she’s nearly as inexperienced relationship-wise as I am. She’s had three boyfriends, to my one, but neither of us has gotten anywhere close to the altar, and she isn’t the type to offer advice outside her areas of expertise.
“If it were me, I’d take a look at how the two of you are communicating,” Colette says gently. “Are you being honest with each other? Asking for what you need? Expressing your feelings? Because sex is just another form of communication, you know? Albeit the most intimate one.” She sits back on the couch, tucking her feet under her gauzy lavender skirt. “But if the lines of expression are clogged outside the bedroom, it can really affect what goes on between the sheets.”
Hmmm…this party might prove helpful, after all.
Discreetly, I pull out my phone and open a new note, typing “Communication” onto the first line.
“And maybe concentrate on giving him what he needs first?” Abby offers, a little timidly. She’s met Colette and Theo several times, but as a newbie in town, she doesn’t know the Wright sisters very well. Lucky her. “Sex is about giving and receiving pleasure and comfort, right? So maybe focus on the giving for a while, no strings attached, and see how he responds.”
“So he’s out bowling, leaving me sitting home alone with no one to talk to except his stupid, stinky childhood dog that’s blind in one eye and smells like his paws are made of moldy cheese, and I’m supposed to reward him with a blow job?” Willa’s lip curls with a huff echoed by her sister. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Maybe.” Abby shrugs. “I mean, it shouldn’t be a one-way street all the time, obviously. But I’ve always found that taking care of the person I love, being generous with him…” She flips her palm over to face the ceiling. “Well, it’s like insta-karma.”
Nancy leans in, eyes going wide as she braces her elbows on her knees. “Insta-karma? What’s that? A sex position?”
“No.” Colette laughs. “You know, karma. You reap what you sow. What you put out into the universe comes back to you tenfold.” She pauses, studying Nancy’s still-vacant expression before she adds more bluntly, “If you make your man feel good, he’s going to work harder to make you feel good. It’s a feel-good feedback loop.”
“Ohhh, right.” Nancy nods before shooting a hopeful look her sister’s way. “That could work, maybe, huh? I mean, Chris is always asking for morning snuggles and stuff before you go to work, right?”
Willa shushes her sister with a hard eye roll. �
��Stop, Nancy, you’re embarrassing yourself.” She reaches for the champagne bottle again, her top lip still curled in contempt. “I mean, I guess something like that could work. It’s just hard to get to that place right now. We’re in such a rut, and the longer we stay there, the more stuck and shitty and hopeless it all feels.”
“Exactly. You’re so right,” I hear myself blurt out, making Willa’s eyes bulge in their sockets.
Clearly, I’ve shocked my nemesis as much as I’ve shocked myself. But she’s right. The relationship rut—or in my case, the lack of relationship rut—is real, and I’m stuck in it, too, and I really, really don’t want to be. I’m so tired of going to bed alone every night, of my only hugs coming from my sister or Theo, of walking through town on the weekends, the lone solo particle in a sea of happily coupled-up compounds.
“I mean, they say we’re supposed to love ourselves.” The words keep spilling out through whatever rip this is in my sense of self-preservation. “And I do enjoy my own company. But I’d also like to spend time with someone I care about. And to be kissed. And more than kissed.” I exhale sharply, blowing my bangs off my forehead, but apparently my mouth isn’t done yet. “I was recently reminded of how amazing kissing can be, and I just want…more of it, you know? Is it so wrong to want more? To want a piece of the dream, just for a little while?”