The Social Experiment

by Addison Moore

  I’m pretty sure I should have my eyes closed, my head writhing in the pillow, but I hike up on my elbows instead, not wanting to miss the show. If Rowen Garret is going to get anywhere near my Sugar Puss, I’m damn well going to see it.

  That dark head of his plunges dangerously low, and in one sift move he launches both my legs over his shoulders. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so fantastically frightened in all my life. My heart rages as my breathing grows increasingly erratic. And just like that, the hot wet sensation of Rowen’s tongue falling over me forces my head to plunge back with pleasure. I let out one hearty groan after another. Not the sultry groans one might imagine, more getting your foot ripped off your body by a bear agonizing and psychotically frightened type of a groan. Really? This is so fucking embarrassing. But I can’t help it. His tongue does this swirly thing, and I let out a sharp cry, panting, gripping the sleeping bag between my fingers.

  “Rowen!” I bear down with my chin to my chest. Dear God, you would think I was giving birth by the way my body is contracting around him.

  He glances up, and for a split second our eyes lock, eliciting a deep spasm of delight deep inside me. It’s as if I needed to see his face to confirm the fact this is actually Rowen and not some frat boy knock-off, some drunken close second. Rowen plunges his mouth back where it belongs and sinks his magical tongue lower still until he’s entered the most intimate part of my body with his nine-inch prehensile member. I can feel him there, lashing me from the inside, and I let out a series of unattractive yelps.

  Forget the bear gnawing off my foot, this has downgraded to a puppy injured in the driveway. Dear God, is there not a single sexy sound I’m capable of producing? A thousand wild thoughts sail through my mind, one of which reduces the word virginity to mere semantics. Rowen is loving me with his tongue, a rather violent, all hell breaking loose version of what I envisioned this moment to be like before he works his way to my sweet spot once again and gets right back to business. He pushes my knees out hard, further exposing me to the cool air, and I’m there, trembling against his hot beautiful mouth in less than ten seconds.

  “Ro.” The feeling goes from nirvana to hellish torment in less than a second, so I pull back and lock his head between my knees like some demonic nutcracker.

  “Whoa.” He touches my thigh as if he’s tapping out. “I surrender, Sugar Puss.” He rides up next to me with a self-righteous grin “It’s true what they say, by the way—sweet as sugar.”

  I give a light slap over his arm before the moment grows serious. “Did you ever think about doing that to me?” It’s foolish of me to ask, but hell, inquiring minds demand to know. I’ve spent my fair share of nights thinking of him. A part of me wishes that he were tormented in the exact same way.

  Rowen sighs heavily, pressing over my body with his full weight, the buttons on his dress shirt scratching my skin. “Only every damn day since the second you turned sixteen.”

  “Sixteen.” I run the numbers. “So, you’re saying I could have gotten extremely lucky after prom?”

  “I think it’s better we waited until this prom night. As much as your dad likes me, I’m sure he would have had no problem shoving my ass in front of a judge for statutory rape.”

  “Oh, that.” I wrinkle my nose at the idea. The fact Rowen is three years older than me has never really meant anything. “It’s probably best we waited.” A laugh gets caught in my throat as I realize times really haven’t changed all that much. “Here.” I hand the tiny foil package over to him. “It’s my ticket to the best roller coaster in town. I hope it’s a ride all night pass. It’s the only one I’ve got.”

  A deep, thunderous laugh rumbles in his chest as he works to take his clothes off. Rowen sits back on his knees, quickly unbuttoning his shirt, his fingers working his belt while taking off his pants and boxers at record speed. Here it is, the moment of truth. Rowen lands next to me, fully in the buff, that tiny lantern still putting out enough wattage for me to take him in with all his God-given glory. That broad chest, those rippling abs, even his thighs bulge with muscle. But it’s that dramatic V that points straight down to something that just so happens to be pointing straight up that holds my gaze.

  “Wow.” The word stumbles out rather stupidly. Forget some simple roller coaster. Rowen Garret has a flesh-covered version of the Eiffel Tower.

  My lips quiver without meaning to. My face starts in on that weird twitch I get just before I burst into an all-out cry. Rowen must recognize it because he lands his thumb over my lips and shakes his head ever so slightly.

  “Don’t be afraid.” He takes my hand and presses a kiss directly into my palm. “Let me show you what to do.”

  Rowen is going to show me what to do—teach me. My heart starts in on a few life-threatening thumps as Rowen navigates my hand to his warm chest.

  “I love that you have hair.” Dear God, can I shut up already? Bringing up what amounts to bodily fur does not a sexy moment make! I swallow hard, and he ticks his head to the side as if confused. “On your chest.” I nod frenetically. “And you know down where it counts.” I steal a peek down south and HOLY WOW! Rowen Garret is fully equipped with his very own LIGHTNING ROD! Honestly, I think the Eiffel Tower just doubled in size. Is that even possible? More important, is that a good thing? I’m no connoisseur of penises. In truth, I’ve only seen my brother’s, and that was once while we were doing a quick change in the back of my father’s minivan after a day at the beach. It was small and prunish and disturbingly grotesque. And that, my friends, cured me of ever feeling the need to see another wanker for the rest of my natural days. But this? What the hell is this? I know all about the mechanics of it—it’s need for speed once a full tilt erection hits, but how is it so massively goliath in size?

  “Please tell me that’s a pop-up book on your lap with a flesh-covered version of the Empire State Building.” I cover my face in shame.

  Rowen laughs, but not in any good way. The Rowen I know would have exploded with laughter at my keen observation interwoven with a slight literary reference, but this new version, the nude version, belts a dark, maniacal laugh instead.

  God, maybe Rowen didn’t dump Becca? Maybe Becca ran for the penis free hills because his dick was so damn big? It only makes sense why she’s with my prunish brother now.

  “Come here.” Rowen pulls my hand along the ridges of his abdomen, down that hardline V zone that points directly to the main attraction. He runs my open palm over the beast seated at the base of his lap, and then as if a surge of electricity runs through us both, I clasp my palm over him, feeling his girth, the strange ridges, right up to his mushroom-like crown.

  Rowen lets out an easy groan. “Kiss it.”

  “Kiss it?” I couldn’t have jumped more if he stabbed me in the eye with it.

  “Yes.” It comes out hoarse and heated. “I want to feel your mouth over it.” His breathing is beyond erratic. His words are broken up with a breath between each syllable like some crack addict who needs just one more hit. “As soon as I saw you at the bar that night—those hot fucking lips.” His drugged gaze sinks to my mouth. “I wanted to feel you on me.”

  My adrenaline spikes just knowing what deliciously perverse thoughts were on his mind.

  “But you went home with some blonde skank. I watched the whole thing.” Great. I’m sure bringing up other women is the exact opposite of what you want to do while your hand is strapped to your boyfriend’s penis like a bomb.

  “I let her go. I went home and tossed off to visions of your mouth”—he rubs my hand over the hard tip—“right here.”

  “Well, then”—my heart gives a few threatening wallops—“let me make all of your dreams come true.” I swim down, careful to keep my bare bottom hidden like some deep, unknowable secret. I may be making dreams come true left and right tonight, but my ass will remain a mystery for as long as I can help it.

  My lips land over him, and Rowen takes both hands to guide me up and down his body. I try to make a vali
ant effort to kiss each of the boys as a thank you from me and the girls for the time he spent up north, but to my dismay it’s nothing but a hairy mess. The boys aren’t nearly as tongue friendly as his bald slick member, so I give them a quick scratch before getting back to the task at hand.

  “No teeth.”

  “No teeth?” I garble with a mouthful. So not sexy.

  “No,” he says it stern, and I realize this is the hard line in the sexual sand. I lick and suck and lose myself loving Rowen in the exact way he wants me to, that I want to.

  He plucks me off and lands me softly on my back with the grace of a wrestler. Rowen rolls on the condom in less than three seconds, a move I’m sure he’s executed in less time than that, considering the amount of practice he’s had. With a sigh, he falls onto his elbows, his eyes searching mine for a minute.

  “Promise me you’ll never hate me.”

  “What?” I reach up and give his ear a quick bite, and he lets out a hearty groan. “I could never hate you, Rowen. I’ve worshiped you for far too long to ever do that.”

  I help him navigate that broom handle of his to the right place and land my legs over his back, trying my hardest not to cry. I have no idea where the tears are coming from, but I can feel the dam getting ready to burst.

  Rowen hikes up farther on his elbows, his intent gaze searing into me just as he pushes in slowly, his body expanding mine as it delves in deep. His chest heaves dramatically as if he were in the throes of a major workout. He’s in me, taking away my innocence, opening me up with his girth as he buries his body inside me. He presses in as far as my body will allow, and he gazes down at me, his chest pummeling, sweat forming at his temples.

  “Soph”—his Adam’s apple rises and falls—“I have never been the same since the day I fell in love with you.”

  I swallow hard, trying to find something equally romantic and timelessly enduring to say right back. “And I love you twice as much now that you’ve taken my heart and my hymen.”

  “Shit.” Rowen closes his eyes and gives a tired laugh. “God, I love you.” He lands an awkward kiss to my lips from this strange angle before carefully plunging in and out of me for what feels like a blissful eternity.

  Rowen is in me, deep inside that secret, sacred part of me.

  Rowen has been in me ever since the first day we met.

  The fact our bodies have caught up with our hearts seems only fitting.

  I belong to Rowen Garret.

  I always have.

  And I always will.

  Rowen

  I’m in love with Sophie Meyer. I am. It’s been true for quite a while, and I know that soon I’ll need to tell her the truth, not just about how and when I knew I loved her, but the whole painful truth that will inevitably lead us down a thorny trail. I have never dreaded that road because I knew that one day the truth—my truth—would come out. And now that it’s almost here, I can taste how sweet it is.

  It’s week five of the social experiment that the coach had to twist my balls into joining, and now I feel like falling down and kissing his sweat socks in gratitude. Dexter’s show has catapulted to super status in a week’s time, trending on social media sites—the YouTube channel has since shut down, and all new episodes are being funneled straight to cable television with a new show running three times a week. Petra says they have enough footage featuring every couple combined to fill three seasons’ worth already. I’m damn glad Dexter isn’t throwing Sophie and me into the mix. Nope. Soph and I need to remain private until we’re ready for prime time. I know for a fact that’s one show Braden would not want to catch.

  In fact, I’m on my way to the makeshift studio for the next taping. Tonight’s date is Sophie’s choice, and I’m curious what she’s decided on. She let me know it will knock my socks off. That alone has my interest piqued because Sophie already knocked my socks off literally last Saturday night. And I’ve been reliving that night ever since. Her soft tits in my mouth, the smooth velvet of her skin against mine, the two of us loving one another as if our lives depended on it. We dragged that night right into the early hours of the morning, and I’m sure we would have taken it further had I not stubbornly left my protective gear back at Leland. It was a hard decision to make to begin with, but once things got moving, it was one I deeply regretted. I’m glad she came prepared. Hell, I’m glad she didn’t slap me once she saw that tent and its carnal implications. Yes, I wanted to spend time with her, have a romantic night—but hot damn am I happy with the way things worked out.

  I’m just about to make the turn into the psych building when I hear my name faintly from behind. I turn around and realize the mistake I’ve just made as Becca comes trotting forward, flagging me down with an open-mouthed smile as if she were picking me up at the airport.

  “Where you off to?” She pops up, breathless.

  “Just—uh”—I glance back at the building with bodies streaming inside, all of which are knee deep in Dexter’s maze just like I am. Only I’m betting I’m the luckiest bastard in there because I get to be with the love of my life. I glance back to Becca, and my expression sours. “Look, I gotta go.” I try to bypass her, and she jumps in front of me.

  “Well, if you’re not busy, maybe we could get some coffee?” There’s a hopeful tone in her voice, and something in my gut says run.

  “Becca.” I scan the vicinity for signs of anyone even remotely resembling her demented other half. “Why are you doing this? We haven’t spoken in years. Look, I have nothing against you. In fact, I’m happy for you. Yes, it took a moment to wrap my head around it, but I’m over that now. I appreciate you telling me about the baby. I just think we should continue to keep our distance.” That baby. My heart breaks all over again, but I can’t help but wonder what would have become of my life if it had lived. I’m sure Becca and I would have stuck together, but it would never have worked. I would have loved that baby, though. I would have made it a point to be the best father. And yet, in my heart, I think the universe would have led me straight into Sophie’s arms regardless. Sophie and I were meant to happen. There’s a real connection there. There always has been.

  “Keep our distance?” Her left lid lowers a notch. A clear indication she’s pissed. I know that look. I know all of Becca Carmichael’s facial expressions, and I’m not a fan of any one of them. “What if I told you that I’m no longer interested in keeping my distance?” She takes a step in as if to prove her point, and her finger runs over the lip of my jacket.

  “Did you run this little scenario by Braden?” I lean back, out of reach. “Braden is crazy about you. He’s given up a lot just to have you. He’s shut people out, told lies to cover up what you did, and he broke a lot of hearts to do it. You were worth it to him, Becca.” My anger hits its zenith. “You were the reason every moment of the last three years has felt like walking through a fire.”

  Her dark eyes harden over mine. “I wasn’t the reason, and you know it.” She leans in and lands an open palm slap over the side of my cheek, leaving a sharp sting in her wake. “That’s for always insisting on twisting the damn truth. You’re right. Braden gave up a lot for me—because I’m worth it, Rowen.” She over annunciates those last few words. “I am worth it. I hope you curl up in a ball at night because you miss me so bad it hurts.” Tears come, and her affect softens from rage to helplessness. Typical Becca behavior. I’ve never met anyone who runs from hot to cold like she does. “I do those things, Rowen.” She slaps me over the chest before pulling me in and sobbing over my chest. “I curl up in a ball at night wishing it were still you holding me! I miss you.” Her voice grows weak, and I try to step away, but she’s latched onto me with a death grip. “Don’t you miss me? Can’t we at least have a conversation once in a while?” She pulls back and pinches her eyes shut a moment. “I just need you in my life in some small way.”

  “Look, I have to go. But I don’t like seeing you upset. Go to Braden. Tell him that you need more of him. Hell, I don’t know how to help you, Be
c. You’re with him now. You made your choice, and I’ve moved on. I’m not thinking about you,” I say it as gently as possible. “I’m thinking about someone else.”

  She snorts at the thought. “A couple dozen someone else’s. They don’t mean squat to you, Rowen. I do.”

  “I found someone.”

  The whites of her eyes eat up the night. “Who?”

  “No one you need to concern yourself with.” But she will soon enough. Sophie and I can’t keep this a secret forever.

  “I see.” She startles, looking around as if she were suddenly coming to. “Are you sure? Are you serious about this girl?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. I’m in love with her. She’s it for me. All roads lead to her, all the time, every time. I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life.”

  “Wow.” She takes a stumbling step back as if my words had the power to blow her away, and they do. “I guess I’ll see you around campus then.” Her gaze rides up and down my body, stunned as shit. “I’ll see you, Rowen,” she says the words caustic and tight as she staggers away like a thief fleeing the scene.

  Something tells me I haven’t seen the last of Becca Carmichael. And as long as she’s with Braden, she’ll always be in my life in a twisted sort of way. But I’d put up with Becca and her odd behavior as long as I have Sophie. I will move heaven and earth to make sure Sophie and I stay safe and sound in one another’s arms.

  And there’s nothing Becca or Braden can do to stop it.

  By the time I arrive, Petra is pissed. The sound guys strap me with a mic while the makeup gal runs a comb through my hair.

  “She’s already in there.” Petra points to the little room Sophie and I were first reintroduced to one another in.

  “I thought tonight was Sophie’s choice?” I’m pretty sure that room isn’t near the top of her list, is it?

  “It is.” Petra smiles as if reading my mind. “Oh, and by the way, this Saturday is couple’s choice, so you can both start brainstorming anytime you like. Try to keep it on campus if you can.” Her lips pull back in mock horror. “Production has sort of run away from us. Dexter says he needs a sure thing to make the network love us.”