you home tomorrow—if that’s okay with you.”
Guess she really doesn’t want me to fuck her.
“ Tomorrow is fine.”
At least she hadn’t kicked him out—yet. Maybe he should save her the trouble and leave now. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to walk home.
I have so blown this.
He hadn’t had time to prepare. Todd hadn’t told him where they were going —just said he needed to stop by his sister’s place on the way home. If Emily had called him, he could’ve meditated, could’ve coached himself—hell, he could’ve called Travis for support. But no, he’d walked right into her living room and stripped to his skin.
She’d liked some of it. He was pretty sure of that. She was right about one thing, though. Once he started fucking, he’d be too—what was it she’d said? Energetic?—for her, and she wouldn’t like it.
She wasn’t even going to let him try.
He lay there, trying to control his breathing so she’d think he’d fallen asleep. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes, soaking the pillowcase before he even realized he was crying.
I am not crying. And even if he was, it was only because his dick hurt and his nuts ached. Not because he’d screwed up again.
And he had screwed up. Royally.
* * * *
Emily couldn’t remember the last time she’d had any real excitement with a man. Sure, she’d had fun at The Mouse’s Tail, but Stephen’s excitement hadn’t had anything to do with her. Dancing with Reece wasn’t too bad.
Not great, either.
T he first time she’d had sex with Chad should’ve served as a warning. They’d met at a party, and after a bit of small talk, he said, “Hey, you wanna fuck?” and she’d replied, “Sure, why not?” Suffice it to say, the ensuing encounter proceeded with a comparable level of enthusiasm.
Prior to the Chad years—as Emily liked to think of them—there was Roger. He was nice enough, but his sexual style leaned toward the perfunctory end of the performance spectrum. Before that, Eugene was…well, Eugene— and how good could a Eugene be? There’d been one or two others whose names she couldn’t recall, and if there’d been any fireworks during their liaisons, she’d slept through them. Her ex-husband Dane wasn’t terribly exciting, and sex with him had occurred so seldom, she’d already forgotten most of it.
Thus far, Alan was definitely the most interesting, and she hadn’t technically had sex with him yet. Unfortunately, her efforts to take the edge off him appeared to have done the job a little too well.
Just my luck.
She had only herself to blame for not simply climbing on for a free dick ride. Alan had certainly been willing—until she’d worn him out. Truth be told, she wasn’t afraid he’d fuck her too hard. Nor was she afraid too much togetherness would drive her nuts. No, her biggest fear was that sex with Alan wouldn’t be as fabulous as she hoped it would be.
And she wanted it to be fabulous. She was tired of the constant search and wanted to fall in love and get on with life—with the sexual partner of her dreams. Alan had that potential. He was cute, amusing, and he loved sex. Then again, he was rather needy, and he’d conked out on her.
Yeah, a fter coming five times.
Perhaps she’d done the impossible and actually given him as much as he wanted. He might not be able to fuck again for days—or worse, he might never want sex again. She’d warned him that she could probably cure his sexual addiction. What if she’d actually done it?
Alan sighed in his sleep, interrupting her thoughts until his breathing settled back into a deep, regular rhythm.
Oh, yeah. S he’d done it all right. He was cured.
Whoopee.
Sleep was impossible. Without the benefit of fi ve orgasms to knock her out, Emily’s brain wouldn’t shut up, and went right on hashing and rehashing every detail. Should she have done this differently or changed the way she’d said that? What would he say when he woke up? What would
Guess she really doesn’t want me to fuck her.
“ Tomorrow is fine.”
At least she hadn’t kicked him out—yet. Maybe he should save her the trouble and leave now. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to walk home.
I have so blown this.
He hadn’t had time to prepare. Todd hadn’t told him where they were going —just said he needed to stop by his sister’s place on the way home. If Emily had called him, he could’ve meditated, could’ve coached himself—hell, he could’ve called Travis for support. But no, he’d walked right into her living room and stripped to his skin.
She’d liked some of it. He was pretty sure of that. She was right about one thing, though. Once he started fucking, he’d be too—what was it she’d said? Energetic?—for her, and she wouldn’t like it.
She wasn’t even going to let him try.
He lay there, trying to control his breathing so she’d think he’d fallen asleep. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes, soaking the pillowcase before he even realized he was crying.
I am not crying. And even if he was, it was only because his dick hurt and his nuts ached. Not because he’d screwed up again.
And he had screwed up. Royally.
* * * *
Emily couldn’t remember the last time she’d had any real excitement with a man. Sure, she’d had fun at The Mouse’s Tail, but Stephen’s excitement hadn’t had anything to do with her. Dancing with Reece wasn’t too bad.
Not great, either.
T he first time she’d had sex with Chad should’ve served as a warning. They’d met at a party, and after a bit of small talk, he said, “Hey, you wanna fuck?” and she’d replied, “Sure, why not?” Suffice it to say, the ensuing encounter proceeded with a comparable level of enthusiasm.
Prior to the Chad years—as Emily liked to think of them—there was Roger. He was nice enough, but his sexual style leaned toward the perfunctory end of the performance spectrum. Before that, Eugene was…well, Eugene— and how good could a Eugene be? There’d been one or two others whose names she couldn’t recall, and if there’d been any fireworks during their liaisons, she’d slept through them. Her ex-husband Dane wasn’t terribly exciting, and sex with him had occurred so seldom, she’d already forgotten most of it.
Thus far, Alan was definitely the most interesting, and she hadn’t technically had sex with him yet. Unfortunately, her efforts to take the edge off him appeared to have done the job a little too well.
Just my luck.
She had only herself to blame for not simply climbing on for a free dick ride. Alan had certainly been willing—until she’d worn him out. Truth be told, she wasn’t afraid he’d fuck her too hard. Nor was she afraid too much togetherness would drive her nuts. No, her biggest fear was that sex with Alan wouldn’t be as fabulous as she hoped it would be.
And she wanted it to be fabulous. She was tired of the constant search and wanted to fall in love and get on with life—with the sexual partner of her dreams. Alan had that potential. He was cute, amusing, and he loved sex. Then again, he was rather needy, and he’d conked out on her.
Yeah, a fter coming five times.
Perhaps she’d done the impossible and actually given him as much as he wanted. He might not be able to fuck again for days—or worse, he might never want sex again. She’d warned him that she could probably cure his sexual addiction. What if she’d actually done it?
Alan sighed in his sleep, interrupting her thoughts until his breathing settled back into a deep, regular rhythm.
Oh, yeah. S he’d done it all right. He was cured.
Whoopee.
Sleep was impossible. Without the benefit of fi ve orgasms to knock her out, Emily’s brain wouldn’t shut up, and went right on hashing and rehashing every detail. Should she have done this differently or changed the way she’d said that? What would he say when he woke up? What would
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