“Double the pleasure, double the fun?”
“I think it’s daunting.” But then I remind myself of my mission—to speak up with men. “Do you think it’s too daunting?”
He regards the device. “I honestly have no idea, but I’d be game to try it.”
That’s what I’m learning about Gabe—he’s up for anything. That easy way he has seems to extend all the way to the bedroom. He appears to have no hang-ups, just a healthy appetite for experimentation if his partner wants to go into the lab and mix up new formulas for nookie. I’m sure he’d don his white coat and get it on right there beside the test tubes and beakers.
“Would you try it?” His gaze meets mine, and our eyes lock. A rush of sensation spreads down my chest, like fluttering tingles.
“I would try it. I don’t know if I’d like it, but I’d try it.” My breath comes a little faster.
“What kind of vibrator do you have?”
I smile. “Why do you assume I have one at all?”
He sets his hand on his belly and laughs in an over-the-top fashion. “That’s a good one.”
“I mean it. How did you know?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No. I really want to know how you assumed I had one.”
He arches a brow. “Arden East, I bet you have more than one.”
I smile in a silent admission. I’m liking Naughty Town a lot.
“Exactly.” He steps closer. “And to answer how I knew—I knew because you like pleasure. Because you’re not getting what you want from your relationships. Because you asked me to help you learn more about men and sex. Ergo, you know how to take care of yourself, but you want to know what to do with all that desire when you’re with someone.”
His eyes sweep up and down my body, making my stomach flip unexpectedly, quickening my pulse. Maybe it’s the way he says desire. Maybe it’s how he looks at me with darkened eyes, or the close quarters we’ve found ourselves in. Whatever it is, all I want to do is give him the honest truth. My skin is buzzing, and it feels good to talk about sex.
“I have three. A bullet, a lipstick vibrator, and a dolphin.”
He swallows, taking his time speaking again. “Lucky dolphin.”
I laugh at the obvious joke. “Or maybe I’m the lucky girl.”
“Do you carry the lipstick one with you?”
“So I can diddle myself in my car?”
“Or behind the counter at the bookstore?”
“I am most decidedly not taking solo flights at work.”
“When do you break them out?”
“At home.”
“And which one do you use the most?”
“I like the dolphin best of all. He has most favored nation status.” Holy smokes. I’m serving it all up. I’m telling him everything. And it feels fantastic. It’s freeing. He seems to be enjoying this conversation too, judging from the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
“Like I said, lucky dolphin,” he murmurs as he guides me to the next aisle, and we’re in a wonderland of animals: butterflies, dolphins, rabbits. “All right, this isn’t your first turn at the menagerie, then. But you did say you wanted to try mutual masturbation.”
A rush of heat zips through me, shooting my temperature higher. What is he going to suggest? Does he want us to do that even though I’d instigated a clothes-on rule? Nerves mix with a strange new excitement. “We don’t have to,” I quickly say, because I can’t bear the thought of crossing a line, even as it entices me.
He cuts me off, looking me straight in the eyes. “I know. Believe me, I know. But this is what I’m thinking. You’re trying to move beyond your comfort zone. Learn new things, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then I want you to do something for me.”
I’ve no idea what he wants me to do, but a delicious heaviness throbs between my legs, and I think I’ll like whatever he says. “Okay.”
“Tell me what you like about the one you’re using.”
“Tell you?”
“Yes.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
I look around. A skinny woman in black with earplugs works the counter, and a redhead in a plaid skirt is hanging up a sexy nurse costume. Nearby, a couple covered in ink checks out strap-ons.
“And how does this help?” I whisper as we regard a shelf of dolphins and rabbits.
“You said you wanted to be able to voice what you like in bed. Do you want to practice by telling me what you like about the dolphin?”
Sparks ripple across my skin at his request, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake. I do want to tell him. I do want to say what I like.
I point to a light-blue dolphin, take a deep breath, and draw on desire—the desire to speak my mind with a man. I can do this. I can say this. “I like the dolphin because . . .” I pause. I’ve never been this vocal before. I picture my solo rides, how I close my eyes, lie back on my bed, and imagine trying new positions, exploring new lands, as I pleasure myself. “Because it goes deep. Because it feels good inside me, and outside.”
The blue in his eyes turns fiery. “The dolphin makes you feel like you’re being touched by someone who knows how to take care of your needs?”
I shiver, my knees going a little weak. My mind is turned all the way on. “Yes, like my lover is attuned to me.”
His voice is raspy. “And knows how to touch you just right. Knows how to make your skin tingle, how to move his hands over you so the world slips away.”
A quick breath falls from my lips, as my body becomes electric. “That sounds amazing,” I whisper.
His eyes are intense, shining with something that looks dangerously like pure lust. “Because he doesn’t take the gift of your body for granted. Because he asks, and you tell him. Now, tell me—so you can practice saying it—what do you picture when you’re close?”
The flame in his eyes jumps to me, and I’m ignited as I cycle through my go-tos then whisper, “My mind . . . flips through different images. But sometimes it’s words. Things I say, things I picture a lover doing to me.”
He inches closer, and the air crackles and hums between us. “Like what you want to say when you’re about to come?”
I nod, my temperature soaring from that one word—come. I ache everywhere. I ache between my legs with the delicious, torturous need to come. Not now, not here, but soon. “Things I’ve never said out loud,” I whisper, my face hot.
“Dirty, sexy words?”
“Yes.”
“What words?”
I glance around. The silence in the store is deafening. The pounding of my blood is intense. When I’ve gone sex toy shopping with my friends, I felt like a naughty schoolgirl, giggling and making jokes. Now, with a sexy man as my companion, I feel naughty in a whole new way.
A sexier way.
A seductive way.
It’s like he’s seducing me—unintentionally, I’m sure—with his dirty talk, but when he’s this close, uttering those words and smelling so masculine, so damn strong, I nearly groan out loud.
Still, I don’t want to go too far in the store. Some things are too private.
“You don’t want to say it here?”
I shake my head.
“I get that. I don’t want you to move beyond your comfort zone right now. But I have an idea. And it’ll help you with your exploration.”
“What is it?”
“Let’s get you a new rabbit. Something that goes deep, how you like it. Something that makes you feel like you’re being fucked by a man who wants you, and a man who knows how to please you.”
God, I think I might come from his words. That’s what I want. That’s what I need. I pick up a rabbit with more speeds than I’ve ever used. “This one.”
“I’ll buy it, then you report back to me.”
I flinch, surprised at his directions. “Do you want me to text you?”
“It’ll help you with your dirty talking. Try the rabbit, and then tel
l me how you felt.”
“Let you know what I say when I’m alone?” The fire roars, burning bright inside me.
“Isn’t that what you want? To be able to say those things in the heat of the moment?”
Desperately.
“Yes.”
“This is the first step.”
And I’m going to take it.
22
Arden
That night when I’m alone, I’m ready, so ready. I don’t even need a dirty book or a Tumblr feed.
I’m aching and swollen between my legs, and when I lie down on my bed and slide my hand inside my panties, I’m slick. From spending the whole damn day with Gabe. I turn on the vibrator, and I know it won’t take long at all.
Pleasure spirals in me, and I moan, and I fantasize. I imagine I’m saying all sorts of things to a lover.
A few minutes later, I’m coming, and it feels glorious.
But I want more. I want so much more . . .
Out of nowhere, or perhaps out of today, Gabe’s face flickers before me, his lips, his smile.
For a moment, I try to resist. But my body is beyond fighting.
With those images, I go again, warring with my brain.
I try to shove away thoughts of him.
He’s a friend, only a friend.
But I’m seeing him take off his shirt, revealing his chest, then dipping his thumbs in the waistband of his shorts and shucking them off.
Holy fuck.
I just undressed my best friend for the first time, and God, he looks beautiful naked.
He looks even better when he climbs on the bed and buries his face between my legs, devouring me. I pretend he’s here, and I’m telling him exactly what I want.
I come harder and longer.
When I turn off the rabbit, waves of pleasure still radiate through my legs like electric pulses. They crest over me, a true high, as I grab my phone and text him.
Arden: Hi . . . I did homework.
Gabe: I can’t wait for your book report.
My thumbs hover over the keys. Am I doing this? Am I going to tell him what comes out of my mouth?
I think of the book club ladies and their boldness. Of Madeline and her confidence on the job.
This is what it means to be a woman today—to own your choices.
I’m confident with my friends.
I’m good at my job.
And I want a rich and layered sex life.
Here goes.
23
Arden
I send a naughty text.
Arden: The rabbit worked . . . I used it twice.
Gabe: Excellent . . . glad to hear my hopping friend made you happy.
Arden: I was loud.
Gabe: Loud is so very good.
Arden: I said all sorts of things . . .
Gabe: Want to tell me?
God, I do. More than I thought I would. But if I’m going to woman up, I need to woman all the way up. I slide my finger over his contact info and hit his name.
He answers immediately. “Does this mean I get an oral report?”
He makes me laugh. He always makes me laugh. And maybe his laughter is the lubricant I need. “I want to practice. To say out loud to you all the things I think when I get off.”
“Say them to me.” His voice is husky, commanding.
I close my eyes, hearing the echo of my own words. “Fuck me.”
He murmurs, “That’s a great one.”
“Spread my legs. Oh God, spread them wider.” My breath stutters.
“Fuck. Yes.”
I’m on a roll, words falling free, tumbling from my mouth. “Get your face between my thighs.”
A rumble. “That’s . . . holy . . . fucking . . . hot.”
I don’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I say all the dirty words to him that I imagine saying to a lover. “I want to fuck your face. Please let me fuck your face.”
“Jesus Christ.” His groan is deep and carnal.
“Faster. Harder. Yes, like that. Oh God, just like that.”
I’m not even touching myself. I’m not getting off. I’m simply speaking, but something rattles loose in me. I’m finally saying these words out loud, not in my head, and it’s astonishing. A new aftershock of pleasure rushes over me as I let my fantasies have a voice, giving them sound and volume. “I want to come on your face.”
He’s silent. Dead silent, and I fear I’ve crossed a line.
“Gabe. Are you okay?”
“I’m. Great.” His voice is sandpaper. “All that stuff you said—is that what you say in your head when you’re touching yourself?”
“Yes. Is that weird? Is it too much?”
He lets out a long exhale. “That is the sexiest thing any woman anywhere has ever said.”
A smile spreads of its own accord, and my skin feels as if it’s glowing. “It is?”
“It so fucking is, and you need to be able to say all that when you’re actually having sex.”
“You really think I should say those things with someone else?”
“I guarantee that if you do, you will drive any man out of his mind with pleasure.”
Right now, I want that man to be him.
24
Arden
The next morning as I stroll through the town square on the way to work, I feel like everyone’s eyes are on me. Like they can see through me, an X-ray woman revealing all her risqué thoughts to the world on black-and-white film.
But no one stares, since all these wild, wonderful images are flicking by in my brain, only for me—images and sounds and memories of the things I said to Gabe, and that he said to me.
It was only the start of our sex education plan, and yet last night was not an experience that I can easily let go of. Nor do I want to. I feel alive and electric, like I’m living in a fevered dream.
Anticipation camps out in my chest as I near the firehouse. My heart ticks faster, and my wish to see him—to wave, to say hello—grows more intense.
But at the same time, I’m not sure how I should behave.
Everything feels a little different between us, even though we didn’t cross any lines.
We didn’t touch. We simply said racy words. But in saying them, I revealed myself. I showed him my wants, and now he knows some of my deepest desires.
I’m not only Arden, his Words with Friends pal and bowling buddy. I’m a woman who has after-dark wishes.
I know more of him too. I know how he approaches sex and women and experimentation.
It’s like we’re walking the tightrope of friendship, balancing precariously and tipping ever closer to the edge.
But as I pass the firehouse, my heart sinks. The truck is gone, and its absence reveals to me how badly I wanted to see him. I let out a long exhale that’s tinged with more disappointment than I expected. Plus, he has a twenty-four-hour shift today, so there won’t be any experiments tonight. But we’re seeing each other tomorrow, and I’m debating whether I want to practice biting, spanking, or stripping, or if we can work in that elevator arms-in-the-air agenda item.
Later in the day, my phone pings with a text.
Gabe: Hey! Wild Care says Hedwig is recuperating nicely.
I punch the air in triumph. His note makes me happy in a whole new way. For the owl and also, I’m realizing, for us. Because we’re normal. We can be owl-rescuers, and bowling buddies, and pizza friends, and coach and sex-thlete, and just . . . well, friends.
Good friends.
Arden: Yay! Also, you checked on Hedwig? I love that.
Gabe: Of course. I wanted an update, and I knew you’d want to know as well. So I checked on our owl.
Arden: Can I still adopt him? There’s a high shelf in my store that I know he’d love.
Gabe: I’m sure Henry and Clare would LOVE his company.
Arden: Admit it. A bookstore owl would be so cool.
Gabe: Yes, it would be. But Hedwig belongs in the wild. Speaking of shelves, how’s that one that you were
worried was a little loose? Need me to take a look at it?
My heart beats a little faster from his offer, his willingness to help me. I head over to the shelf in question, rapping on it.
Arden: I checked it. All good!
Gabe: You know where to find me if you need anything.
Arden: Same to you. :)
This man does so much for me, and I only wish I could do something special for him. That afternoon, as I help a customer find an old Dashiell Hammett novel, I know precisely what that is.
25
Gabe
“And that’s some of what we do in an average day. Now, I’m wondering”—I tap my chin, surveying the eager crowd—“is there any chance any of you have any questions? I know it’d be pretty unusual for a first-grader to have questions. But you all should feel free to hit me up if you do.”
A dozen little hands shoot in the air, and there’s laughter from the grown-ups too. I spend the next twenty minutes answering questions here at the fire station. Most of the questions—surprise, surprise—involve the truck and the truck. Also, the truck.
When the questions ebb, I drop plastic fireman hats on the kids’ heads and thank them for coming. The camp counselor also thanks me.
As the kids wander down the street back to the community center, Shaw emerges from the firehouse, gesturing to the troop. “Over-under on how many you scared away from the fire service on account of being so ugly?”
The Lucky in Love Collection Page 11