The Josh and Kat Trilogy: A Bundle of Books 1-3

by Lauren Rowe

  “So, PG, I have yet to discover a single tattoo on you,” he says, his voice light and bright. “And, believe me, I’ve conducted an extremely thorough search.”

  I shift my position on the bed. My heart feels like it’s gonna hurtle out of my chest. I put my hands over my face, collecting myself. I didn’t expect him to come back in here and pretend he never said any of that stuff to me. I was steeling myself to hold back my tears while he continued pouring his heart out to me. I didn’t expect him to come back in here like nothing happened.

  “Ever thought of getting a tattoo?” he asks, his voice tight, his eyes pleading with me to play along.

  I can’t concentrate. I don’t know what to do—how to react. “Um,” I stutter, “I have one, actually.”

  “You do? Where?” His eyes are warming, reverting to the way they always look.

  I pivot my body and lift my hair, revealing a tiny scorpion on the nape of my neck. “I’m a Scorpio.”

  “Whoa. Sexy. Can’t believe I missed that. So are you into astrology? Or you just really like being a Scorpio?”

  “Yeah, I love astrology. I’ve read a bunch of books on it.”

  There’s a beat. His chest is rising and falling visibly. He bites his lip.

  “Um, I wanna get a second one,” I say, still not sure how I’m supposed to proceed here. “But I’ve just never been able to decide on something that would be meaningful enough—something I’d want ’til the end of time.”

  “Well, that’s silly. There’s no such thing as ‘’til the end of time.’ Just get what you like right now. That’s all we have, no matter what story we tell ourselves to make us feel better.”

  There’s a long beat. Damn. He’s kinda dark.

  His eyes flicker. “I don’t wanna sit here and talk about my fucking feelings all night long, okay? Just forget I ever said all that shit to you, okay? Don’t ask me about it—just put it out of your head, okay? Please.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry about?”

  “For... I dunno. Forcing you to spill your guts if you didn’t want to.”

  “You didn’t force anything. I’m a grown-ass man.” He pauses a long time. “I shouldn’t have told you all that. I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. I’m a grown-ass woman. I told you in my application—I want to know the real you. I don’t want Happy Josh. I want Real Josh.”

  He stares at me for a long beat. “So, as far as a second tattoo for you goes, my advice is don’t overthink it. My brother always thinks his ink has to make some earth-shattering statement about the meaning of life.” He scoffs. “But you can waste half your life trying to be all deep and profound all the time. The bottom line is we’re all gonna die—so who gives a shit if you die with ‘YOLO’ stamped on your ass or not?”

  My stomach is somersaulting. This is not the fun-loving Josh I’ve come to know.

  He motions to my half-eaten plate of food. “You done with that, PG?”

  I nod.

  He grabs the half-eaten burger off my plate and polishes it off and then clears my plate of all leftover French fries, too. “You want another drink?”

  “Thanks.”

  He gets up and puts our empty plates on a table and then moves behind the bar, his glorious body on full, dazzling display. “So, okay,” he says, opening a bottle. “Where the fuck can I find this Garrett Bennett fuckwad? Because I swear to God I wanna hunt him down and beat the fucking shit out of him.”

  I don’t reply. He suddenly looks different to me.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” Josh says, his jaw pulsing. “See? This is exactly why I don’t talk about any of this shit. Now you’re looking at me funny. I don’t like it.”

  “I’m not looking at you funny.”

  He scoffs. “This is the real me, Kat.” He motions to his bare torso. “What you see is what you get—a wise and powerful man with a huge cock.”

  There’s a long beat.

  Josh clenches his jaw. “So, back to Garrett Asshole Bennett. Why do you care if that guy said you aren’t ‘marriage material,’ Kat? He was obviously a total prick.”

  I swallow hard. I’ve never talked about Garrett Asshole Bennett with anyone. I’ve always been too ashamed at what an idiot I was. I open and close my mouth, struggling to find words.

  “What does it matter what some total douchebag said about you?” Josh persists. He pours something into two glasses on the bar. “You’re awesome, Kat. A beast. He was obviously dead wrong about you.”

  My heart is pounding in my ears. Did Josh just indirectly call me marriage material?

  “It just freaks me out how utterly clueless I was. I was ready to give my heart to a guy who thought I was a slut.”

  “That reflects poorly on him—not on you. You trusted him. He took advantage of you. He was a shit. A cruel, heartless, self-loathing, small-minded, small-dicked little shit.”

  “It’s okay. In the end, it was probably a good life lesson.”

  “What was the lesson?”

  I consider my words. “I think Garrett Bennett is my ‘YOLO’ tattoo. I was one hundred percent sure of something, and I turned out to be dead wrong.” I shrug, trying to come across like it’s no big deal. “Good thing to remember.”

  He looks pained. “That douche deserves to get the shit kicked out of him,” he says between gritted teeth.

  There’s a loud knock at the door and Josh is instantly distracted. A wide grin spreads across his face. “Oh, damn. Looks like talking about our fucking feelings will have to wait, thank God.” He suddenly slaps his face—really hard—leaving a bright red mark.

  “What the hell?” I gasp.

  Josh chuckles and slips around the bar toward the front door, a wide smile on his striking face. “I do believe your chariot has arrived, Party Girl.”

  Thirty-Seven

  Kat

  Josh hands the delivery guy a huge wad of cash and gleefully turns back around, a large, hefty-looking cardboard box in his arms, an evil gleam in his eye.

  At the look of trepidation on my face, he laughs. “Don’t worry, PG. You’re gonna love it.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He places the box on the edge of the bed, opens the flaps, and peeks inside. “Come to papa,” he says, his dick visibly hardening in his briefs.

  He pulls out a tarp-looking thing and spreads it on top of the bed.

  “Oh, jeez,” I say. “Am I about to star in an episode of Dexter?”

  Josh chuckles.

  “Why the heck do we need a freaking tarp?”

  “Because things can sometimes get a bit messy.” He winks.

  “Huh?” I say.

  But Josh doesn’t elaborate.

  “Did you write about this machine in your application to The Club?” I ask.

  He scoffs. “No. Don’t think about that stupid application right now. Just live in the moment, Kat. Just enjoy the ride.” He snickers. “Literally and figuratively.”

  “What the fuck is this thing?”

  Josh reaches into the box and pulls out a little black machine—a little half-domed box-machine, about a foot long and wide and high, attached to a black power cord and a small control box. Basically, the thing looks like a curved saddle with a power cord.

  “It’s an orgasm machine,” Josh says simply. “It was designed to give a woman the most powerful orgasm she’s ever experienced—over and over and over again—for as long as she can stand it.” He places the Sybian in the middle of the bed on top of the tarp. “This baby’s about to rock your world, Kitty Kat.” He smiles greedily. “And, therefore, mine.”

  I survey the contraption for a moment, utterly fascinated. “So I sit on top of it?”

  “Yeah, ride it, cowgirl.”

  My lower abdomen is beginning to burn and tighten with anticipation.

  He points at a flesh-colored strip of prickled rubber on top of the machine, at the apex of the half dome. �
�This rubber strip here presses against your clit, giving you as much vibration as you can handle—I think the highest setting is something like a small jet engine or something, literally.” He laughs. “And then the second stimulation is... Hang on.” He reaches into the box, rummages around, and pulls out a clear bag filled with hygienically sealed, flesh-colored dildos, complete with veiny shafts and mushroom tips.

  My eyes go wide. “Whoa.”

  “Pick whichever cock you want,” he explains, holding up the bag of dildos of varying sizes. “And then it rotates inside you, hitting your G-spot over and over, while the vibration on the pad blasts your clit.”

  A dull ache is beginning to burn painfully in my lower abdomen. “This thing looks pretty intense.”

  “Yeah. It is. Are you game to try it?”

  My nipples are hardening. My crotch is filling up with blood. My clit is fluttering and zinging in my panties. “Um. Yeah?”

  “Excellent.” He sits down on the edge of the bed, his face blazing, and pats the empty spot next to him. ‘Okay, PG. Pick your dick.”

  I sit next to Josh on the bed and he hands me the clear bag of vacuum-sealed dildos. I look through them for a moment, studying each one carefully, my heart racing. There are several varieties to choose from, including a double-pronged dildo thing clearly intended to slide up two holes at once.

  “Yeesh,” I say, holding up the double-duty dildo. “This one looks interesting.”

  He grins. “I think you’d better start with something slightly less ambitious for your first ride at the rodeo. Maybe next time for that one.”

  “Yeah, definitely next time.” I roll my eyes and he laughs. I rummage around again and pull out a detailed rubber finger, complete with a knuckle and nail bed. “Wowza.” I hold it under Josh’s chin like I’m tickling him. “Coochie coo.”

  Josh laughs. “That’s probably a good choice, seeing as this is your first time out. Good entry-level dildo.”

  “Hell no, I need something more than a freakin’ finger. I want a cock, man. Come on.” I rummage through the bag again and finally hold up a big, fat dildo with a thick shaft and bulging tip. “How about this one?” I say.

  “Whoa, that’s pretty big for your first time,” he says. “You sure you don’t want to start a little smaller, maybe get used to the rotation first?”

  “No way. I like big cock, baby.”

  His eyes ignite. “Oh yeah?”

  “The bigger the better.” I blush like a virginal schoolgirl. I’m talking a good game—but this whole situation is way outside my comfort zone. I’ve never done anything like this. “Have you done this before?” I ask. “I mean, you know, rented an ‘orgasm machine’ for someone?”

  “No.” He smiles like that’s a stupid question. “I’ve seen women riding Sybians online, of course—you know, in porn and on Howard Stern or whatever—but I’ve never rented one for a woman—though I’ve always fantasized about doing it.” His eyes light up. “Especially with a woman like you.”

  I feel my entire face turning beet red. “And what kind of woman am I again?” If he’s calling me a slut, I swear to God I’m gonna—

  “Hot as the fucking hinges of hell,” Josh replies.

  Oh. My inner voice shuts the hell up.

  There’s a beat.

  “Ready, babe?”

  My chest is tight.

  Before I can reply, Josh bends down and takes my nipple into his mouth.

  Instantly, my body bursts into flames. Oh God, forget the machine. I want him—I want him inside me.

  But Josh pulls back. “Okay, cowgirl,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “Time to ride.”

  I nod. My cheeks are hot.

  “Go pee while I attach your dildo and get everything all set up for you.”

  “I don’t have to pee.”

  “Try. You need to void your bladder completely before you get on this thing. It’s gonna make you feel like you’re gonna piss yourself, even though you’re not. You gotta be able to relax completely for it to work its magic.”

  “Lovely,” I say, scrunching up my face.

  “Oh, it will be,” he says, his blue eyes sparkling wickedly. “Trust me.”

  Thirty-Eight

  Kat

  I come out of the bathroom.

  Josh has attached the dildo to the machine, plugged the power cord into the wall, and laid the control box neatly in front of the box on the bed. He turns to look at me, his face ablaze.

  “Come here, babe,” he coos. He holds out his hand and I pad across the room toward him, my skin zipping and zapping with anticipation.

  When I reach him, he takes my hand, pulls me into him, and begins kissing me.

  “This is a big-time fantasy of mine,” he says into my lips. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” I say—though my mind is reeling. I really don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into—and whether this truly will be my “pleasure” or not. I’ve never let a man watch me masturbate before in any form, let alone on a machine with a jet engine.

  His fingers slip inside my undies and into my wetness. “This is gonna be epic,” he says, kissing my neck. He snaps the waistband of my G-string. “Take these motherfuckers off, baby.”

  I pull my undies down, shuddering with anticipation, and stand before him naked, my clit throbbing under his gaze.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he says, his eyes smoldering. “You ready?”

  I nod.

  “Climb on, cowgirl.”

  “Are you gonna show me how to work the controls first?” I ask.

  “Oh, no.” He grins. “You’re not gonna work the controls—I’m gonna work them.”

  “You’re gonna work the controls?” I ask, my eyes wide. “No, I’d feel much more comfortable working them for myself.”

  “Nope. I gotta be in control, Kat.” His jaw muscles pulse. “That way, you can lose yourself completely. No thinking required. You’ll just go on the ride of your life.” He strokes my hair like I’m a puppy. “I’ll take care of you, babe, I promise. No worries.”

  “What if it’s too much? Too fast? Too strong?”

  “Then I’ll slow it down.”

  There’s a long beat.

  “You can trust me. It’ll be fucking amazing.”

  I exhale. “You’ll be careful with me? You’ll listen to whatever I say?”

  “Of course.” He smiles. “Always.”

  “Okay.”

  “The vibe on your clit and the rotation of the dildo run completely independently of each other, each of them on a separate control dial. So we’ll start really slow—one stimulation at a time and on the lowest setting. And then we can work our way up higher and higher on the first stimulation—we’ll start with the dildo—and then we’ll add vibe if you’re liking it—nice and slow to start, and we’ll work our way up to The Exorcism. Whatever you can handle.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” I say, hopping back. “No Exorcism.”

  He laughs.

  “I’m serious, Josh. No Exorcism. Save letting me get possessed by Satan for the second date.”

  He chuckles.

  “I’m relieved you find that funny. I still haven’t read your application, you may recall. Please tell me Satanism isn’t something that turns you on.”

  He rolls his eyes. “No, Satanism doesn’t turn me on. What kind of pervert do you think I am?”

  “Dude, I have no idea what kind of pervert you are. That’s the whole point of me wanting to see your application.”

  “All in good time, PG. All in good fucking time. In the meantime, have a seat on this bad boy so we can make any necessary adjustments before we get started.”

  “Adjustments?”

  “We have to make sure the vibe is perfectly flush with your clit when you’re sitting completely upright. You don’t wanna have to lean forward to get your clit stimulated, or else the dildo won’t hit your G-spot at the right angle. And that’s where the money is—hitting your G-Spot.” He smiles devilishly. “A woman who ha
s clit orgasms loves sex—but a woman who gets G-spot orgasms can’t live without it for a single fucking day.”

  I stand staring at him, speechless for a moment. I’ve never heard a man talk this way. I feel like, up until this moment, I’ve slept with a whole bunch of boys. But Josh is a real man.

  Josh motions gallantly to the machine. “Your chariot awaits, m’lady. Hop on.”

  I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m about to let Josh watch me masturbate on a jet engine?

  “Do me a favor,” I say. “Take off your briefs. I wanna be able to see your hard-on while I ride.”

  A broad smile spreads across his face. “My pleasure.” He wordlessly removes his briefs, revealing his massive hard-on. “Climb aboard, my lady,” he says softly, motioning to the machine.

  My crotch is aching and burning. My nipples feel like bullets. My chest is tight. “Honestly, I’d rather climb aboard your cock right now,” I whisper.

  His cock twitches. “All in good time. That’s coming next. Now get on, babe. This is a total fantasy for me; you have no idea.”

  I crawl onto the bed and straddle the machine on my knees, hovering my crotch just above the tip of the huge dildo, contemplating how the hell to lower myself onto it. Now that it’s positioned right at my entrance, it seems a helluva lot bigger than it did a moment ago.

  “Wait. Hang on,” he says.

  I freeze with the dildo positioned right against my entrance.

  He bounds over to a duffel bag in the corner and comes back with a condom packet and a bottle of lube. He opens the packet and lays the rolled-up condom on top of the opened wrapper on the corner of the bed—out of the way but clearly at the ready—and then he squeezes some lube into his hand and spreads a huge mess of it all over the dildo, then across the prickly rubber pad intended for my clit, and then he reaches between my legs and covers my clit and hole and lips in slickness, making me shudder and moan softly at his touch. Without missing a beat, he squirts another big glob of lube into his palm and matter-of-factly slathers his hard-on with lube.

  I’m suddenly overwhelmed with sexual excitement. “Okay to sit now?” I ask, my voice tight.