GIRL-NERDS LIKE IT DEEPER
BOOK THREE OF THE GIRL-NERD SERIES
BY RACHEL DUNNING
Copyright © 2013 Rachel Dunning.
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Cover Design Copyright © 2013 Rachel Dunning.
Cover Photo Copyright © 2013 iko.
Obtained from Shutterstock and used with permission.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Also by Rachel Dunning
Hot Holidays Series
Christmas Comfort
Perfectly Flawed Series
Standalone Novel
Over 420 Pages
NO Cliffhanger!
Like You, #1 Perfectly Flawed Series
Naïve Mistakes Trilogy
Finding North, #1 Naïve Mistakes Trilogy
East Rising, #2 Naïve Mistakes Trilogy
West-End Boys, #3 Naïve Mistakes Trilogy
Finding North is available for FREE to US and UK customers in the Kindle Store!
Girl-Nerds Series
Girl-Nerds Like it Harder, #1 Girl-Nerd Series
Girl Nerds Like it Faster, #2 Girl-Nerd Series
Girl-Nerds Like it Deeper, #3 Girl-Nerd Series
Girl-Nerds Like it Longer, #4 Girl-Nerd Series
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For those who've read the first two books. Nice to see you again. ;)
Table of Contents
HELLO AGAIN...
GIRL-NERDS LIKE IT DEEPER
BOOK FOUR
HELLO AGAIN...
Hello there! Nice to see you again! Oh, it's the first time we've met? No problem, I'm the one doing all the talking so don't worry about putting your foot in your mouth.
If you're a regular reader of my work, then you know the deal with me. If not, here's a little primer:
I write two types of stories. Steamy, and open-the-windows-I-can't-see-it's-so-hot-in-here steamy. This story you are about to read is an oh-so-hot story.
The oh-it's-so-hot-in-here stories I write are short, funny, and loaded with steam. They're bit-sized chunks of pleasure. Their purpose is to make you laugh, and, hopefully, cause you to bring out that fan on a cold winter night because the fire's doing too good a job of warming you up (or was it the book?)
If you just want to get your mind off things for a little while and like the extra-steamy stuff, maybe even while you wait for the husband (or wife) to come home, well, put your feet up, I'll bring the coffee, and dig into this scintillating tale.
Who knows, maybe your husband (or wife) will be all the happier for it...
Love,
R
P.S. It goes without saying that this book is intended for adults only.
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GIRL-NERDS LIKE IT DEEPER
-1-
I suck at multitasking. Kissing Clayton Remington while my relationship with Nathan Lockwood was still running around in my mind as a background process was bound to lead to a system crash. My system crash!
And I was done with rebooting.
I rebooted after my dad died. I rebooted after my mom got her fourth or fifth (or sixth?) boyfriend and screamed to high heaven from within her room while he'd beat her and I banged on the door, asking 'for my mommy.' The cops had come by later, mom had chosen not to press charges, and the crap continued from there on out.
Finally, I rebooted, restarted, and got an upgrade when I came to England to study. I couldn't afford any more downtime.
The one thing I've never done is considered hitting the Escape key on my life. I'd heard of people who'd been through similar things and who'd done just that. No, I've always believed that someday, somehow, I'd learn life's keyboard shortcuts, or at least figure out how to gain access to a better App Store!
Being with Nathan, now that I thought about it, had been like playing Angry Birds on the Touch-Screen of Life: A fucking blast while you're doing it, but is there really any point when you're done?
Clayton, however, whoa... He seemed to be hardcoded into my very fabric by some supreme masochistic programmer who found it 'cool' to play a game with me as his Sim down here on earth. Clayton was the compiler of the code to my heart, my hyperlink to a corner of life's web that I'd never known before: The Corner of Love, or at least some weird feeling I'd never really experienced but which flared up like a metal detector to a buried land-mine every time I was within a hundred yards of him.
Clayton, for whatever reason, seemed to be my power button.
I kissed him, there on the quad steps by the road. I jerked him toward me and inhaled him into me, turning my tongue around in his mouth and trying to regain what I'd lost with him all those months back because of my own irrational fears.
I wrapped my hands around the back of his head and dug my tongue into him, kissed his cheeks, his neck, his nose, his eyes.
I kissed him so much, caught in such an enraptured daydream, that I all but failed to hear his protests. Except for the last one:
He gripped me by the arms and shook me. "Layla, I said no!"
All stopped. My system shut down. I stared at Clayton's oceanic eyes as he glared at me, angry, upset...
Reality struck home.
I'd left him, not returned his advances, never spoken to him again after a night of mad passionate love while it had snowed so romantically outside. And then, months later, I went off with someone else, tried to bury my fears in physical comforts, all the while pushing Clayton further and further away, while, in my own mind, he'd actually gotten closer and closer to me. His face appeared in my dreams and nightmares. And those nightmares had consisted of me being alone, at the end of my life, Clayton laughing at me along with the rest of the world, because I was too afraid, too terrified, of getting close to anyone.
In reality, Clayton and I could not have been further apart from each other.
As I sat there, embarrassed, mortified, looking at him, I realized this.
I wiped my lips, my eyes. "I'm... I'm sorry, Clayton. I — "
His grip on my arms tightened. His eyes glistened but no tears broke through. "I can't believe it," he said. "All these months, all this time you acted like I was nothing and then...this."
I shook my head. "I know," I whispered. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."
I tried to get up. His grip got tighter, so tight that it stopped me from moving. I stayed, looked up at his blazing blue eyes...and then I told him: "Clayton, there are some things you need to know about me. I mean, if you want to."
He stared, saying nothing.
I continued. "I... When you told me you loved me... I... I panicked. It's...a physical panic, one that I can't control. It's been like that ever since..."
I told him everything. About my dad, how he'd died getting me Pepsi at the store for my birthday party because he loved me so much. I told Clayton about my mother's broken relationships, the boyfriends who beat her, the turmoil while I was growing up. But, most importantly, I tol
d him that all these fears flared up when I'd realized one thing: That I absolutely, and unconditionally, loved him. A love I had never felt before for anyone. A love that had quadrupled in size when he'd told me the same, told me that he loved me, too.
He let go of my arms, shook his head, looked back out onto the street. "Damn it, Layla. If only you'd told me this before. I'm committed to someone now. And she's committed to me. I can't just up and leave her because one of your whims has kicked in. Even if I — "
He paused. Had he meant to say, 'Even if I love you, too'?
He stood up, heaved out a breath. "I wish you'd told me sooner. This would have been so much easier."
He stalked off.
I clenched my teeth as the tears rammed the back of my eyes. I buried my head in my knees, my arms around them, and I swayed, back and forth.
An age later, small hands covered my shoulders. It was horn-rimmed Mandi. My guardian angel out of nowhere. "C'mon, love. You're sleeping at my place tonight." She picked me up, and I stumbled home with her.
-2-
I'd never been to Mandi's place. We'd always had a friends-at-college-only type of relationship. She rented a small room that used to be someone's garage but they'd had it remodeled for extra rent. She had her own bathroom but the kitchen was communal.
Her room was typical of a geek. A gamer geek: Gaming magazines strewn all over the floor, joysticks, neon lights around the computer screens — all three of them. Lines of red and blue and green code filled one screen, an active game flickered on another. In the corner were a bunch of programming books, clothes all over the floor, underwear, used socks, tee shirts...
"This is home," she said with a smile, proud of the mayhem. She took off her red horn-rims and put on another pair, much more elegant (these were black.) I threw a bunch of her junk off her bed and sat in the farthest corner, saying nothing.
"Coke?" she asked.
I nodded.
She went over to a mini-bar and pulled out a coke. I saw the Red Bull and asked for one of those instead. Caffeine would put me straight to sleep.
"Wanna talk about it?"
I shook my head.
"No problem. I've got an extra mattress, plenty of clothes that'll fit you, but you're not leaving my sight tonight. You're freaking me out, girl."
I understood. Mandi didn't know my personal policy about never closing the Window on my Life's Main App, but sometimes friends just need to feel like friends by being there for you, worrying for you. And it was the least I could do to ease her mind — by staying over.
After I'd finally settled into my environment while Mandi had played games on her computer and sworn at her screen, I decided to take a shower.
Her bathroom was pretty small. Under the sink was a tiny cupboard for toiletries.
I jumped in the shower and steamed myself up. Flashes of only a short while ago hit my mind, Nathan doing me against a tree, holding a warm blanket around my naked body. He was such an animal in bed — a caring, warm, beastly man of a companion.
I missed his touch. I missed his arms surrounding me, his heavy body covering me as I lay in his bed, his cock still inside me as we dozed off.
But I missed something else even more: The dizzying feeling of falling off a cliff, brought about by an emotion I'd denied myself all my life. I missed Clayton.
My left hand slid down to my crotch as flashes of both these men slammed my mind. It's not that I couldn't decide about either of them, it's that I didn't want to. I both wanted and didn't want either of them. I wanted the lack of commitment of Nathan as much as I wanted the giddy whoosh of how Clayton made me feel.
I rubbed my clit, put one hand against the shower wall and pressed down with the other. Tension clutched me up and down my legs as the steaming water filled my lungs and stung my back. I turned up the water heat, stuck two fingers inside myself. I didn't want to wait, I wanted to come. I wanted an orgasmic release that meant nothing but which would at least clear my mind: Story of my life.
I sped up, my breathing getting faster. In my head I tried to focus on one of the men in my life, but then decided to focus on neither. This was just hormonal, physical, meaningless. That's how I wanted it to be.
I rubbed faster, around the nub, harder. I small groan escaped me.
"Layla, all OK?" came Mandi's voice from outside the door. I heard the door-handle (I'd locked it.) And again. "Honey, you fine? I'm getting a little worried about you..."
"Damn it," I cursed under my breath. "I'm coming soon!" I cried, only realizing a moment later the double-meaning of what I'd said.
My legs tensed. My knees buckled.
"OK, sweetie, just let me know if you need anything."
I heard the door handle once more. Mental confusion brought about by that last statement of hers, the door handle, the unyielding tautness of every muscle in my body, and so much steam in the bathroom that I felt I was breathing in drops of water, made me bellow and groan louder than I'd planned, a long, protracted moan that echoed off the walls, the door...
"Oh, god," I said right at the end, resting my head on the tiles, water spraying down my head and back, my left hand still massaging and squeezing the last bits of convulsing pleasure from me.
I caught my breath.
I knew Mandi had heard me. I allowed myself the momentary release and mental rest brought about by the natural chemicals injected into your body after an orgasm, but it didn't last long. I smiled embarrassedly at having to face her. It's not that I dreaded it. She and I had spoken endlessly about masturbation. That's another side effect of being a geek, often your only sexual experience by the time you hit your twenties has been the times you've dated the plastic stick in your drawer. Either that or an experience so embarrassing with the ugliest kid in school that you choose not to mention it to anyone, possibly even blocking it from your own memories.
I turned off the shower and toweled myself dry. I put on the clothes I'd borrowed from her — a skirt, because she was a little shorter than me and her pants wouldn't fit — and a Black Sabbath tee (she was real old school in certain areas.)
When I opened the door she avoided looking at me, staring only at her computer. She seemed a little nervous. "Feeling better?" she asked, still faced dead-ahead at her screen.
"Uhm, yeah."
I went to her bed behind her. She swiveled her chair and faced me, her cheeks flushed. When I lay back against the wall, my legs opened slightly by mistake. Her eyes caught once at my crotch and lingered there. Then she looked nervously away.
"Good. Um, good," she said. She was actively avoiding eye contact with me now. A thought crossed my mind about her, but I ignored it. I did, however, see her legs tighten up a little.
I crossed my own.
"Um, Mandi, I just wanna thank you, um, for bringing me over here." I was already feeling better, much better. And it actually had shit to do with the fact I'd just done myself in the bathroom! Well, not directly at least. Maybe it was that I'd been caught doing it, and the joke of it had maybe distracted me from the other things on my mind.
I decided to ask about it. There was no point in Mandi and I sitting here uncomfortably over something so stupid.
"Um, Mandi, did you...hear...me...?" I pointed to the bathroom.
For a moment she tried to act blasé, but then she smiled, equally as embarrassed as I was. She nodded, looking down at her feet.
"Maybe that's just what you needed," she said, her eyes sticking once on my legs for a moment as she looked back up at me.
I paused before answering. "Well, I mean, it did make me feel better."
She exhaled and laughed. "Always does it for me!"
Hours went by and Mandi and I chatted about geek shit but, eventually, we got onto talking about guys. Actually, only I talked about guys. I told her about Nathan — in minute detail — and about the lingerie he'd bought for me, the anal lube we'd never used, his unbelievable stamina, the handcuffs and how nervous he'd made me. I
told her about Clayton and his stamina!
At one or two A.M., her eyes began closing. "I'll pull out the mattress," she said.
"No ways, hon. Come here," I said, opening the blanket on her bed. Her eyes shot open in shock. "What? Can't two friends sleep in the same bed?" I said.
"Um," she hesitated, "Layla... I..." she pointed to herself.
"I know. I figured that. But I'm not. Now, can two friends sleep in the same bed or not?"
She smiled. "This is mortifying."
"What? That you like me, or that you've been lady enough to not force yourself on me, knowing I like guys?"
She blushed. "Well, I guess it is out in the open now."
I shrugged.
"Look, I just want you to know that I invited you here as a friend — "
"Would you stop apologizing! I love you, OK? At least I'll never have to worry about you stealing my boyfriends!"
She blushed even redder than before, making the usually unnoticeable freckles on her skin suddenly seem like a night sky of sparkling red stars.
"Get!" I said, slapping the bed.
She didn't hesitate, jumped in with me. She put her back against my chest and I hugged her. "I love you, Layla," she said. "I mean...as a friend!"
I smiled, kissed her ear once, nothing sexual.
She turned, looked me deep in the eyes. It was the first time I'd noticed the varying shades of green and gray in hers. She searched my soul, looked deeper into my aura than anyone had ever done before. She pecked me quickly on the lips. Also nothing sexual.
"That's all you're ever getting from me," she said. "Now that you've rejected me once, if you want anything more, you're gonna have to work for it!"
We spooned, my nose nuzzled against her soft-scented hair. I imagined this is what it must be like with someone you love, this plus the physical attraction. In that moment it all felt so simple. Just two warm bodies, hugging. It crossed my mind that maybe it felt simple because sex wasn't involved and never would be between the two of us...
Girl-Nerds Like it Deeper (Erotic Romance) Book 3 (Girl-Nerd Series) Page 1