LIP SERVICE

PENNY WYLDER
 CONTENTS

Copyright
Books By Penny Wylder

1. Mayra

2. Mayra
3. Philip

4. Mayra

5. Philip
6. Mayra

7. Mayra

8. Philip
9. Mayra

10. Philip

11. Mayra
12. Philip

13. Mayra

Epilogue
Copyright © 2016 by Penny Wylder
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author,
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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BOOKS BY PENNY WYLDER

Filthy Boss

Her Dad’s Friend

Rockstars F#*k Harder

The Virgin Intern

Her Dirty Professor

The Pool Boy

Get Me Off

Caught Together

Selling Out to the Billionaire

 1

MAYRA

Okay, so it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Even though my body has
so much adrenaline rushing through it that I’m jittery. I swear, my brain
thinks that I’m about to fight a shark or a really large bear. That’s really the
only explanation for the fight-or-flight reaction I’m having right now. But
no, it’s just a sex shop.
It’s actually a lot nicer than I expected. In my head I had this image of a
seedy hole in the wall with the decor of Dracula’s lair, chains and dildos
hanging from the ceiling. Yeah, no. Looking around now, I’m embarrassed
about how many times I walked up and down the block before I let myself
actually come in. My heart is still pounding, and I feel awkward as hell, but
the store is nice. It’s all glass display cases and fun music. It kind of
reminds me of a beauty store, the way it’s laid out, except for all the sex
toys…
I pull out my phone and check the time, and the time of the class. I’m
still early. That’s fine, but it means walking around the store awkwardly
looking at things I’ve never even thought of using. I’m standing by a
display of kits, each brandishing the Pleasure Chest logo of erotically
entangled legs, and a little sign that tells what’s inside. My eyes fall on one
called the ‘Better Blow-Job Kit,’ and I snort out loud. If only it were that
easy.
I move away from that display quickly, trying to ignore the stab of pain
and sadness that accompanies the thought. Bryan would have laughed at the
kit, and not because he thought it was funny, but because he would have
thought it was a good idea. That I needed help. His derision still hurt.
 He walked out of our apartment twenty-three days ago, without any
warning. When I asked him why, he laughed—practically a super-villain
laugh from the movies. “It’s the sex, Mayra. You suck at…well, at
sucking.” He laughed again. “I need a woman who knows what to do with
her mouth, not acts like it’s the first time she’s ever sucked a dick. I mean,
the rest is terrible too, but a good blowjob can go a long way.”
I tried to say that I could get better. Practice. Learn. Please don’t throw
us away over something that can be fixed. He didn’t laugh this time, instead
it looked like he was pitying me. “Mayra, don’t kid yourself. The rest of
you doesn’t make up for the how terrible you are in bed.” And then he was
gone. I honestly didn’t understand—I still don’t. I thought we were happy.
Up until then, Bryan had been sweet, and never said anything about not
being satisfied.
Still, we’d always been honest with each other. He told me there was a
problem, and I believed him. I told him I could learn, and I believe it. So
that’s how I ended up drunkenly searching for sex classes late one night,
finally stumbling across the ‘Blowjobs and Beyond’ class. It seemed like
the perfect solution. Now I’m here, standing in a room full of silicon dicks
regretting every choice I’ve ever made and hoping no one sees my face.
I drag myself back to the present, pushing down the hurt from Bryan’s
words. I really thought that coming here was a good idea, that I was over it
enough to get up and move on. But now I’m not so sure. If a display in a
sex store can send my emotions spiraling like that, am I really ready to
move on?.
“Can I help you find anything?”
I jump backwards, startled by the voice, and crash directly into a shelf. I
watch in horror as sample dildos of every size and color and the boxes
behind them fall onto the floor in the world’s most pornographic chain of
dominos. Oh. My. God. What did I just do?
I look over to find a gorgeous Asian man in a black apron looking at me
and the wreckage of the shelf, a look of startled surprise on his face. His
hair is slicked back and I notice he has cheekbones that I would kill for, but
that’s all I take in before I look away because I’m trying not to melt from
embarrassment. My face is bright red, and I can feel the heat of the blush
radiating from me. I lean down to help clean up the mess and blush harder
because suddenly I’m holding two dildos in front of a complete stranger.
 He bends down and starts to pick up the boxes, straightening the shelf
and putting them back.
“I’m so sorry,” I manage to say under my breath, secretly hoping that a
hole will open in the floor and swallow me up.
He smiles, and it’s not unkind. “First time here?”
“Yeah.” I put the toys back on the shelf, “Here, at any store like this.”
I look on his apron for a name tag, and there isn’t one. Instead there’s a
round button that says ‘Ass-master.’ I feel the blush creep up my neck at all
the connotations that could have. “It’s fine,” he says. “It can be weird the
first time. Even my boyfriend shut up like a clam the first time he came in
here.”
“That’s good to know.” I manage a small laugh.
“Are you looking for anything specific? I can point you in the right
direction. Maybe make some suggestions.” He winks, and I blush again,
hurrying to stand up and put the last of the boxes back on the shelf.
“I’m actually here for the…um…the class.”
He lights up. “Perfect! I’ll walk you back.”
I glance at the display one more time, making sure it’s back to normal
and there isn’t a sea of dicks floating on the floor.
“I think you’ll really like it,” my tour guide says, leading me towards
the back of the store and an area curtained off with lush red curtains. “It’s a
good class. Unfortunately, our regular teacher—Christa—is out sick.” A
pang of disappointment rolls through me. Is the class cancelled then? I
realize I was looking forward to it more than I had thought under all my
anxiety. I guess I had thought it would be a good step in helping me get
over what Bryan had said. “But don’t worry,” he continues, “she got a
friend to come in for her. I’m sure it will be great.”
He pats me on the shoulder as he leaves me at the door. “Have fun!”
For a second I think about leaving. I mean, it’s not the real teacher, so
it’s not the real experience. So maybe I should come back to their next class
and make sure I’m learning properly. But if I leave now, I know I’ll regret
it. I’ll spend the rest of the night beating myself up over what a chicken I
am. I can always come back to the next class if I feel this one isn’t good
enough. I straighten my spine and walk further past the curtain.
There are already some women sitting in the chairs, waiting. Everyone
seems relaxed—way more relaxed than I am. This isn’t a big deal. I’m not
alone. I can do this. I can learn. Squashing my awkwardness and anxiety, I
take a seat in the second row. I don’t want to be too far forward or back.
Just blend in—it feels strategic, almost like picking a new seat at the
beginning of a school year.
I check the time, and there’s still a few minutes left. At the front of the
class there’s a long table, and on it I see a variety of sex toys, including
some dildos and vibrators. Since this is supposed to be an oral sex class,
I’m not sure what they’ll be used for. I’m really not sure if I want to find
out. Oh god this was stupid—they’re not going to make us practice on those
are they?
There’s an easel with the title of the class written in a script that’s peppy
and bright and cursive: Blowjobs and Beyond! There’s an accompanying
heart and lipstick kiss. I’m wondering what ‘Beyond’ means. I didn’t read
the class summary that closely and all I remember it saying was that I was
sure to love it. Now, eyeing those dildos, I’m thinking I should have read
more closely and made sure there wasn’t a practical aspect to the class. And
I’m less worried about loving it and more worried about my next partner
loving it. If someone else reacted the way Bryan did I don’t think I’d be
able to take it. As shitty as his words were, I feel terrible that he had to
pretend that he was happy for so long. I’m sorry that I didn’t see the
problem earlier, that I didn’t fix it. If I had, maybe we’d still be together.
A few more women have trickled into the room, and the chairs are close
to full. It’s time to start the class, but there’s no sign of our substitute
teacher. I check my phone out of habit, noting that I still feel a twinge that
there aren’t any messages from Bryan. I’m not really expecting any, but
there’s a part of me that’s still hoping for it. I click over to email, and I’m
deleting some spam messages when I hear a gasp from one of the other
women, and a collective hush falls over the little room.
I look up and am met with the sight of one of the most handsome men
I’ve ever seen. Even in my head it sounds ridiculous, and my sensible brain
rails against the hyperbole, but he really is. He’s wearing boots and jeans,
an untucked button down with the sleeves rolled up. He looks like he’d be
far more comfortable shirtless, ax in his hand, chopping down a tree. I don’t
know if I’ve ever encountered someone who embodied the essence of man,
the testosterone is practically rolling off him in waves. His face has a
wildness about it, like it’s spent more time in nature than the rest of us and
wasn’t able to be tamed. He looks fierce and rugged and something deep
down inside me shivers.
 Then he smiles, and his whole face lights up. I feel a breath rush out of
my lungs at the transformation. Just like that he goes from being something
wild to something warm and charming and no less beautiful. He looks at me
with that smile, and somehow, I feel like it’s just for me. I feel my entire
body turn into jelly. Even from this distance I can tell that his eyes are a
peculiar shade of dark blue.
“Sorry I’m late, ladies,” he says, voice deep and rough, perfectly
matching that wild exterior. “You know how L.A. traffic can be.”
There’s scattered giggles across the women in the room.
He walks up to the front of the room, casually leaning against the table.
“My name is Philip Crew, and I’ll be your instructor today.”
 2

MAYRA

“I know I’m not exactly who you were expecting,” he says, and there’s
more laughter. “But I’ll do my best to fill in for Christa.”
Around me, the women are in a fit of whispers. I hear snippets of
words: Hot, sexy, damn. And damn is right, because at that moment Philip
turns to the easel, which I had thought was just a sign, but is actually a
presentation meant to be flipped through, the rest of us suddenly get a
spectacular view of his ass. And it is a nice ass. His jeans are hugging it
perfectly, and even though I’ve never been an ass girl, he might make me a
convert.
I hear a voice from behind me. “Even if you don’t do a good job filling
in the class, you’re doing a great job filling out those jeans.”
There’s a burst of laughter from the attendees as Philip turns and smiles
at the speaker. “Why thank you. I do try.”
Another voice. “I’d be willing to take private lessons.”
“In what?” Philip laughs, flipping the first page of the display to the
anatomy of the penis.
“Whatever you’d be willing to teach,” says a girl in the front row.
An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach as he winks at her, thanking
her for the interest and politely declining. Yes, Philip is sexy. But the way
he revels in the attention reminds me of Bryan. Even though Bryan never
cheated on me, he’d always been a player. He flirted relentlessly, thriving
on the attention and status that brought him. There’s always a catch. Of
course Philip would be as fucking hot as he is only to be a player too. And
learning something this intimate from someone this hot is only making me
more nervous. Even if I never see him again I don’t want him to remember
me as that girl so sad she had to take a class on blowjobs.
Another wave of laughter brings me out of my thought spiral, and I
realize I’ve missed something. Philip is laughing, and as he does, he looks
straight at me. His laughter wells up inside me, and I feel my body warm in
spite of this new revelation. I inwardly give my brain a smack. Stop loving
how gorgeous he is. Someone asks Philip a question. “So do you normally
teach these kinds of things?”
“No, this is pretty much the furthest thing from what I do.”
“What do you do?” It’s the girl in the front row again. She’s twirling her
hair around her finger. “Tell us your life story.”
Philip laughs nervously. “It’s not very interesting. I was in the military
until two years ago. Now I own a small rock climbing gym here in the city
with a couple of friends. I also do guided tours and train people for rock
climbing, wilderness excursions, and white water rafting.”
That explains the insane shape his body is in. He doesn’t have to take
off his clothes for me to see that—though I can’t say that I would mind
seeing that—just what we can see of his arms below his rolled up sleeves is
enough to give us a picture.
“How do you know Christa?”
“She’s just a friend.” He smiles. “A very sick, desperate friend who had
tried everyone else. Believe me I was her last choice.”
A girl across the aisle raises her hand, and he points at her. “I hope you
don’t mind me asking,” she says, “but are you gay? I mean, how else would
you know how to give a blowjob?”
Every woman’s head whips towards him, and I’m gripped by a sudden
irrational terror that he’s gay. Please, don’t let him be gay.
Philip laughs. A deep laugh that pulls itself up from his stomach and
seems to fill the room with joy. “That’s a fair point,” he says, “and arguably,
a gay man probably would have been a better choice to teach you today. But
no, I’m straight. The best I’ll be able to do is to tell you what I enjoy. No
man is the same, but some of the tips I can give you are probably
universal.”
“Should we take notes?” Front-row-girl asks.
Philip leans against the table again. “Only if you want to. Okay, let’s
talk the very basics: position. There are lots of great positions for blowjobs,
and they all have their benefits. There are probably as many positions as
there are people, so I’ll only mention the ones I think are most common.”
He turns to the easel, flipping past the penis diagram and a couple of notes.
“Christa said she had some diagrams. Oh, here.” He flips the page and
reveals an illustration of a two figures, one blue and one pink. The female
figure is on her knees in front of the male figure—there’s no mistaking what
she’s doing. I think of the last time I was in that position and cringe. I can
see that this class is going to be an exercise in embarrassment. But then
again, I already knocked over a shelf of fake dicks so there’s not too much
lower I can go.
“Having the male in a standing position is probably the most common.
Guys like this because it gives us a great view of you, especially if you’re
naked.” His eyes flick to me, and I feel an automatic blush rise in my
cheeks. “This is a good position because really either party can be in
control.”
Philip flips the page, and the male figure is now seated, the female’s
face buried in his lap. “Male seated is great for relaxation. We love it
because at heart, guys are all a bit lazy and this means we don’t have to do a
damn thing.” He laughs a little, and the girls around me follow suit. He flips
the page again, and there are two matching illustrations. The female figure
laying down on a bed, one on her stomach and one on her back.
“When a woman lays down for a blowjob it can be good for a lot of
reasons, but this position also requires a lot more trust between partners
because the man is clearly in control. But this is a good angle if your guy is
looking to,” he clears his throat, “thrust deeper.”
A hand shoots up, and he calls on the woman—an older brunette.
“Which position is your favorite, and why?”
He smiles, and for a fraction of a second I think I see some hesitation or
discomfort. But then it’s gone and he’s all charm again. “Seated has always
been my favorite,” he says, “but not because I’m lazy. In that position, the
two people are closer to gather and there’s more physical contact. It’s
always felt more intimate to me.” Then he chuckles, “That being said, the
other two certainly have their place.”
There’s a small silence, and Philip doesn’t seem to know where to go
next. Front-row-brunette speaks up. “You said that you would tell us what
you enjoy. So go ahead. Describe your perfect blowjob.”
“If you think that would be helpful,” he says.
 “It really would be,” says the same woman who made the comment
about his jeans. It’s going to be helpful for every woman who’s going to try
to get in his pants, which at my last count is everyone.
I feel like everyone in the room—except me—leans a little forward,
eager to hear what’s next.
He clears his throat. “Well, like I said before, the seated position is my
favorite. The first thing I’ll say is, I like women who take their time.
Whatever it says about us, men love when it feels like the woman is
worshipping your body. Like there’s nothing she’d rather be doing in that
moment than giving you pleasure.” He smiles, and his eyes land on me.
“I’m sure women feel like that too.”
There’s sounds of assent around the room. I’m finding it very hard to
look away from him.
“Oh, and being naked is always a plus. I love being able to look at all of
a woman while she’s sucking me—helps me imagine what I’ll be doing to
her later.” There’s some laughter, but less, everyone too caught up in his
words. “As far as taking her time, I prefer the woman not to jump in with
her mouth right away. She’ll take me with her hands, massaging me,
making sure I’m as hard as possible before her mouth ever touches me.
Then, she starts slow. Tongue only on my shaft, like a lollipop. Long slow
strokes along the bottom, and quick little flicks along the sides and
underneath the head.”
In spite of my nervousness, my body is responding to his words. I feel
heat and anticipation flowing downwards towards my core, and in my
mind’s eye I can see what he’s describing.
“I love it when a woman takes the time to explore my balls. Taking
them into her mouth, one and then the other. It feels amazing. Finally, she’ll
put her mouth on me, taking just the tip and sucking hard on it. I like to be
teased with tongue while being sucked. The combination of sensations is
hard to explain.”
My imagination is too far gone to stop. I’m on my knees in front of him,
naked, taking him into my mouth just as he’s describing. His cock is
straight and perfect and I want nothing more than to make him feel
incredible, to prove that I’m good at this. That I’m not a sexual failure.
He’ll close his eyes and groan as I take him deeper.
“After that first contact, I like a combination of things. I want a good
rhythm that makes me feel like I’m fucking your mouth. I want you to keep
using your tongue to tease me. And of course, I want you to take me as far
as you can down your throat. There’s nothing hotter than watching your
cock disappear into the mouth of a beautiful woman.” His eyes fall on me
again, and I blush. He has to know I’m picturing all of this. He must know
somehow that I want that. I want to take him back to my place and put my
mouth on him, watch him go limp with pleasure. I want to drink him down.
“After that, it’s up to you. I’m in your hands, and I want you to make it
last as long as possible before I come. And I want you to swallow,” he says.
“Swallowing is absolute acceptance. It’s total commitment to the pleasure
you just gave. I think that’s why most guys prefer it. I also love it when a
woman will look up at me while she’s sucking. That eye contact is hot.”
I imagine that eye contact. His blue eyes on mine as his cock is in my
mouth, while I slowly give him the pleasure that he wants. I’m wet, and I
can’t believe that I’m so turned on right now. I shift in my seat, embarrassed
by how much impact his words are having. I hope it’s not as obvious as it
feels. The only thing more mortifying than crashing into a dick display
would be having an orgasm in the middle of this class.
“Any questions?” he asks with a laugh, then clarifies. “They don’t have
to be about what I just described.”
“I have one.” A girl behind me asks. She hasn’t spoken until now. “You
mentioned using your hands to…” She stumbles. “…to get a guy hard.
Well, it sounds stupid, but I’m always kind of afraid to do that because I
think I’m going to hurt him. Could you explain how to do it right?”
“Sure.” Philip smiles. “I’ll tell you one thing, your mouth can help you
there. It’s easier when everything is wetter.” He looks behind him at the
table full of toys. “But it’s easy enough to show you. Maybe I’ll have
someone come help me demonstrate.”
Half the hands in the room shoot into the air. I keep my hand down, the
image of him and me too fresh in my mind. My body is still so turned on
I’m not sure I could walk straight anyway. Philip smiles at all the
volunteers. Then he looks right at me. “How about you?”
Shit.
 3

PHILIP

The little blonde in the second row goes scarlet when I call on her.
So far, this has been interesting.
I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to teach someone how to give a
good blowjob, never having given one. I’m sure there’s good tips that
Christa would give that I’m missing completely. I can only hope that she’ll
be well enough for part two of the class. Or maybe she can give me some
notes.
Christa did warn me that everyone in the class would try to hit on me. I
internally roll my eyes as I remember her calling me ‘eye-candy.’ But she
wasn’t wrong. I recognize the hungry look on some of these women’s faces.
And there’s a time when I would have responded to that—taken advantage
of the sheer lust of so many women, and taken one of them home. Maybe
more than one. But I wasn’t lying when I told them I enjoyed the intimacy
of that position. I’m tired of mindless fucking and waking up next to
someone who doesn’t remember my name.
That’s what I didn’t tell them about my favorite kind of blowjob—that
it’s made ten times better if it’s someone you care about wrapped around
your cock. But it’s been a long time since I’ve had that, and it’s what I want.
So I do my best to avoid women who are looking at me the way the
brunette in the front row is.
The only person who isn’t looking at me like that is the blonde who’s
walking towards me, trying desperately not to look at me. I haven’t been
able to stop looking at her since I walked in. Bombshell. That’s how I’d
describe her. She’s like classic California with way more curves. Skin a sun
kissed tan and honey hair that I would swear has been nowhere near bleach.
I run my eyes up and down her as she comes to stand in front of me. My
dick responds to her automatically, and I adjust my stance so it won’t be
obvious. I’d love to have my hands full of those curves.
I extend my hand to her. “What’s your name?”
She takes my hand, giving me an unexpectedly firm handshake.
“Mayra.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
She nods, discomfort pouring off her in waves. The urge to get her to
loosen up is overwhelming. I place my hand on the small of her back,
guiding her closer to the table. “We’ve got a lot of toys here,” I say. “Help
me hand them out, and then you can help me demonstrate.”
“Okay.” She hasn’t looked me in the eye once. She grabs a couple of the
dildos, handing them to the girls in the first row. I pass some out too,
smiling at the nervous laughter that comes with me handing them a fake
penis. Granted, some of these are a little outrageous. They range in shape
and size from smooth and small to huge and painfully realistic. That doesn’t
even cover the colors, of which some are flesh tone, some more like the
Skittles rainbow.
When everyone has something and Mayra is back at the front of the
room, there are only a couple toys left. A blue vibrating dildo that is ridged
and looks almost serpentine, and a realistic dildo—still in its packaging—
that looks like candy. It’s a swirl of pink, blue, and orange, and the name on
the package tells me it’s called a Mustang. I smile inwardly. It’s a pretty
good name for a dildo. “Pick your poison,” I say to Mayra, gesturing to the
toys. The look she gives the blue one almost makes me laugh. Instead, she
points to the Mustang. “Good choice,” I say. “This is called the Mustang, so
it’s bound to give you a pretty good ride.”
She takes the packaging from me and looks at it. “And it’s made by
Vixen, so maybe it will seduce you into a good ride.”
My laugh is sudden and strong. I never would have guessed a comeback
like that would come from her. “Fair enough,” I say, taking back the tube
and twisting it open. I take out the dildo, and am pleasantly surprised by the
feel. It’s soft, with the give of skin, but with resistance like a real dick.
I reach out, taking Mayra by the shoulder and bringing her closer, face
to face. I hold the dildo in front of me, facing out just like a real penis
would. Though I keep it in front of my stomach. I don’t want her hands
anywhere near my actual cock since it seems eager to be hard whenever I
look at her. I raise an eyebrow in question. “Ready?”
She huffs out a breath. “Sure.”
I’m not sure why she’s so nervous, but I’m not going to ask questions.
“Okay, I’ll use Mayra to show a couple examples of how to get a guy going
like this. First thing—dicks aren’t nearly as fragile as you think. Don’t be
afraid to use some pressure. We like that.” I reach out for Mayra’s hand, and
for the first time since she came up here she looks me in the eye. I see what
I couldn’t from a distance, her eyes are green. A warm green that’s
beautiful, complimenting her skin and making her face come alive. She
looks so unsure, and I wonder what made her so nervous over something
like this. Someone as gorgeous as she is and with a comeback that fast
doesn’t get nervous over a hand job—especially a fake one. I give her my
best charming smile, taking her hand, and wrapping it around the dildo in
my hand.
I desperately try not to imagine her hand wrapped around my real cock,
and fail miserably. I take a moment to grit my teeth and will my dick under
control. “This is a pretty safe way to go if you’re unsure.” I keep my hand
on top of hers, slowly moving her hand back and forth over the dildo. “Use
your whole hand to pull along the shaft, from base to tip and back. There’s
hundreds of variations on this. Squeeze.” I squeeze her hand beneath mine.
“Twist your hand while you move.” I twist her hand.
“You can isolate a couple fingers in a circle to stroke the head,” I say.
“That’s fun. Or use both hands.” I pull Mayra’s other hand up to join,
wrapping her fingers around so the bright dildo almost disappears. She
looks up at me, and we’re close enough that I see her pupils dilate. I would
give almost anything to know what she’s thinking right at this second.
“Okay,” I say. “Pair up and practice. Take turns holding and stroking.” I
hear a few scattered giggles at that. “I’ll come around in a couple minutes
and give you pointers.”
I look down at Mayra, moving my hands back so I’m only holding the
base of the dildo. “Why don’t you give it a try?” I say softly. A soft blush
comes to her cheeks, but she doesn’t say no. Instead, she slowly starts to
move her hands up and down the colorful dick. Way too slowly. “You’re
nervous.”
She looks up at me, startled. “No.”
“Liar,” I say. “You don’t have to be nervous.”
 “I’m not,” she insists, backing up a step. I guide her back with a hand
on her elbow, and she jumps at the contact.
“Then why are you jerking off this cock at the speed of driving Miss
Daisy?” I ask. “You can go faster than that.” Her eyes narrow a little, but
she does speed up. But I can tell she’s barely touching it. I wrap my hand
around hers again, matching her speed, forcing her to grip the dildo with
more strength. “The cock isn’t made out of glass. You can give it a good
beating.”
Something sparks in her eyes, and she tries to pull her hands off the
dildo. I don’t let her. “This isn’t anything like doing it on the real thing,”
she says.
“Well then,” I say softly, “maybe you should use your imagination.” I
glance down at the dildo between us, and I sense that there’s something
there holding her back. “Trust yourself to be in the moment. You’re a
beautiful woman, and any man would kill to have your hands on him.
Nothing is sexier than confidence, so take a minute to imagine it and know
that for as long as you’re touching him, you own his pleasure.” I give her a
grin, “Or, if that doesn’t work, that Mustang you’re holding is pretty close
to my size. Well…” I look again, “not quite my size.”
Mayra flushes bright red. It colors her skin from her neck to the roots of
her hair, and again I wonder what exactly she’s thinking. She looks up at me
again, and there’s heat in those eyes now. I can just imagine how they
would look—how much heat there would be in them—while I’m making
her moan.
“Philip, can we get you over here?” The voice of the brunette breaks
into my thoughts, and Mayra jerks away from me, going back to her seat.
There’s more to her than meets the eye, that’s for sure. I’m glad I said
yes to teaching this class now, but I’ll be even more grateful when it’s over
and there’s time for a better conversation. One on one.
 4

MAYRA

I practically stumble back to my chair, my entire body vibrating with

tension and anxiety and arousal. If I thought that imagining being with him
was powerful, being close to him was so much worse. More than that, every
time he touched me it felt like my skin came alive, tingles running across it.
I never wanted him to stop, and at the same time I did, because having him
help me jerk off a dildo was mortifying. A dildo that’s still in my hand.
I look at the brightly colored dildo and blush all over again. For as long
as you’re touching him, you own his pleasure. The minute he said that I
imagined it was his cock that I was holding, that I was giving him that
pleasure, and I was more than a little embarrassed by how much I liked that
thought. How I got wet just thinking about it. Looking at it now, I imagine
taking him in my hand, performing those same motions on him, watching
his eyes flutter closed as I squeeze him. A shock of yearning goes through
me, unexpected and strong. I want him.
And that’s terrifying.
He’s currently helping the girl in the front row who was flirting with
him in the front row. I’d have to walk past him again to put the dildo back,
and I don’t know if my body could handle being that close to him again. I
slip it in my purse, wanting the temptation of imagination out of my hand.
I’ll put it back before I leave. I watch as Philip moves to a woman behind
me, smiling and guiding her through the same motions he did with me. I
think about what it would be like to have those hands on me again, only not
just on my hands, but everywhere.
 An idea blooms in my mind. It’s probably really stupid, given the
reason I’m here, but you know what? Sometimes you need to be stupid.
And I think my kind of stupid is having a hot one-night stand with the sex
professor. He definitely seemed interested, the way he kept looking at me,
the way he touched and teased me. And he’s not looking at anyone else like
that. Sure, he’s helping them and goofing off, but it’s not intense like it was
with me. If I play my cards right, I know I can take him home. This is the
part I’m good at. The flirtation, the beginning. Even if I ruin it with the sex,
maybe this is what I need to help me shake off Bryan. Besides, Philip looks
like he’s good enough in bed that he can make up for how terrible I am. A
terrible mix of anxiety and anticipation settles in my gut.
He looks up right then, locking eyes with me. A slow smile spreads
across his face, and this time I smile back. Yeah, this could be fun. Only one
night, and that’s it. I’m going to be a total cliché hitting on the sex teacher,
but I don’t care. I need this.
I wait as Philip makes his way around the room, giving attention to
everyone who needs it, but I feel his eyes on me in-between. I barely
manage not to stare at him, sneaking glances when I know he’s looking
away. I feel another burst of nervousness, and push it down. I’m not going
to talk myself out of this. For once, I’m going to be spontaneous. For once,
I’m going to do something that’s probably a mistake.
By the time he’s seen everyone, the time allowed for the class is coming
to a close. Philip heads up to the front of the room. “So we’re almost out of
time,” he says, “but I’ll be back the day after tomorrow for part 2, provided
Christa is still sick. Leave the dildos here on the table, and let me know if
you have any questions on the way out.”
There’s a smattering of applause, and the scraping of chairs as everyone
gets to their feet. I stay seated, wanting to wait until everyone leaves to ask
him if he wants to get a drink. It takes a few minutes, the women trickling
out, some fabricating questions so they can talk to Philip longer. I can’t
blame them—not anymore when I’m going to do the same exact thing.
Finally, the last woman is asking him a question, and I stand. I hang back
near the wall, not wanting to intrude, but wanting to let him know I’m here.
It’s a fine balance.
As soon as she leaves, he turns to me. “You’re still here.”
“I am.”
 “I expected you to be the first one out of the room. I guess you’re not
nervous anymore.” He’s in front of me now, crowding into my space. I take
a step back and press against the wall. His body brushes against mine, and
that heat sparks through me again, igniting my skin and reminding me of
how badly I want him to touch me.
I take a deep breath to clear my head, pressing down my anxiety and
focusing on what I want. “I decided being nervous wasn’t in my best
interest. Especially if I want to learn.”
“I think you could be a good student,” he says, gently pressing me
against the wall. “I’d be willing to give you a private lesson. In whatever
carnal subject you want.”
I feel the brush of his fingers against my hand, and he raises my wrist to
his lips, sucking gently at my skin. I realize just how wet I am again as it
feels like he’s sucking directly on my clit. A small sound comes from me, in
the back of my throat, and Philip smirks at me. He knows just how much I
want him right now, and I don’t care. I need this, I want him to fuck me
senseless, just so I can forget.
I can feel his cock against my leg, hard inside his jeans, and I’m glad I
wasn’t wrong about him wanting me too. “I think you could be a good
teacher,” I say, “and I’ll let you choose as many subjects as you like.”
His eyes flare, and he slips a hand around the back of my neck. Our
faces are so close that we’re sharing breath, and I know he’s about to kiss
me. God, I want him to kiss me. It’s been so long since I kissed anyone but
Bryan, the guy I’m not supposed to be thinking about. “I just hope I don’t
need too many lessons,” I say. Maybe if I make that caveat he won’t be as
horrified by my lack of sexual skill.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about a thing
with me.”
I feel like a bucket of ice has been dumped over my head, and I’m no
longer in a sex shop in L.A. I’m one year in the past, at a bar in San
Francisco, dancing with a guy on our third date—Bryan. He’s a flirt, and a
terrible dancer, but I already like him. Earlier I’d seen him chatting up a
waitress, smiling brilliantly. I knew that smile. It was the same one he used
on me. “You’re not going to ditch me for some waitress tonight, right?” I
asked him.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he said, kissing me. “You don’t have to worry
about a thing with me. I’m all yours.”
 And he was. Until he wasn’t.
I put a hand on Philip’s chest, suddenly exhausted and heartbroken.
“This is stupid,” I say. “I know you. I know your type, and I thought I could
do this, but I can’t.”
Pushing past him, I practically run out of the store. I hustle down the
street to my car before he gets any heroic notions about coming after me.
This sucks. All I wanted was a night of fun. One thing that wouldn’t remind
me of Bryan and his betrayal and his words. Go figure the guy I chose
would be just like him. Maybe I just have a type. Maybe I’m just destined
to be the girl who falls for the terrible guy.
Either way, this is for the best. I can’t go through what I went through
with Bryan again, so it’s better that I know about Philip now, before
everything goes to shit. Instead of a one-night stand I’ll just go back to the
coping mechanism I’ve been using for the past three weeks: ice cream and
bad TV. Given how bad at sex I am, Philip probably dodged a bullet by not
being able to sleep with me.
He should consider himself lucky.
 5

PHILIP

What the fuck just happened?

I watch through the glass door of the shop as Mayra gets in her car and
drives away, my hard-on painful against my jeans. I didn’t see that coming.
One second she was practically begging me to fuck her, and the next she’s
telling me she can’t. It’s like a switch flipped. Did I do something?
I go over everything I said, and I can’t find anything in my words that I
think might be offensive. Maybe I pushed too hard. Maybe she wasn’t
actually ready. I adjust myself in my jeans. Well, my cock isn’t going to get
the workout it thought it was tonight. Good thing I had so much practice
jerking off in class, because it looks like that’s all I’ll be doing. After
checking in with the guy closing the store, I head to my car. I can already
tell that Mayra is going to be on my mind for a while. It’s been a bit of time
since I tried to pick someone up, but damn, I didn’t think I’d gotten that
bad.
I head to a diner nearby. I know Christa goes here a lot, and I’m
starving. Plus, I think that the patient could probably use some food. I’d be
lying if I said I didn’t have an ulterior motive and I want to ask her if Mayra
has ever been to a class before. Maybe get a clue as to why she ran, get a
clue as to if she’ll come back. I order a burger for myself, and the biggest
chicken noodle soup they have for Christa. I also get some of the toast I
know she likes.
I thought it might be too awkward or too personal to tell everyone in
class, but Christa is my best friend’s girl. Sean has been my best friend for
years. He owns the gym with Morgan and me, and he and I served together.
He’s off leading a two-week hiking trip in Colorado, a mixture of amateurs
and rich people who are more interested in taking pictures than climbing
actual rocks. He and I have an unspoken understanding—I’ll make sure
Christa’s okay while he’s gone. If I had someone in my life, I know he’d do
the same.
So even though I know she’ll probably be annoyed with me for fussing,
I dial Christa’s number while I’m standing outside.
“Hello?” Her voice is stuffed.
“I’m outside with food. Do you want to let me in or should I use the
key?”
She groans. “Use the key mother hen.”
I laugh as I find the hidden key behind a brick near the door. Christa is
flopped on the couch, some terrible Lifetime movie playing. “I thought I’d
call first so you didn’t think someone was breaking in.”
Sniffle. “I doubt I would have thought someone was breaking in if I
heard the key in the lock.”
“I suppose that’s fair,” I say.
“How was the class?”
I put the soup down in front of her. “As good as can be expected given I
know nothing about how to give a blowjob.”
“You have a penis. And you’ve had what I’m sure is an astonishing
number of blowjobs in your life.” She laughs, and it sounds painful. “I’m
sure it was fine.”
“I did want to ask you though, has a woman named Mayra ever come to
one of your classes before?”
Christa’s face wrinkles, and she sneezes into a tissue before answering.
“Doesn’t ring a bell, why?” I give her a sheepish grin and she rolls her eyes.
“You were going to fuck one of my students, weren’t you?”
“Before you say anything, she’s not like that.”
“Not like the parade of women that regularly throw themselves at your
feet? Philip, the whole class probably wanted you.”
I laugh. “You’re not wrong. But she didn’t, at least not at first. She
barely looked at me, and she seemed so nervous she was going to throw up.
I tried to talk to her after class—”
“And by talk to her you mean overwhelm her with your manliness.”
“I thought she was into it. But then she pushed me away. Said she knew
my type, and ran out of the store.”
 Christa pushes herself up into a sitting position, reaching for the
container of soup. “So you want to know if I’ve seen her before so you can
track her down? Even if I did know her, I wouldn’t help you do that.”
I unwrap my burger and bite into it. “Not track her down. But I would
like to make sure she’s okay. She seemed really rattled all of a sudden. And
maybe I can ask what got under her skin.”
“Mmm.” Christa takes a sip of the soup. “I was going to scold you for
going out of your way to bring this over, but damn this is good.”
“Does Sean know you’re sick?”
She dunks a piece of toast in the soup and takes a bite. Doesn’t seem
like it would be that good to me, but whatever. “He knows.”
“Really?” I narrow my eyes at her.
“Yes he knows I’m sick.”
“Probably a better question, does he know how sick?”
She gives me a look, “You know as well as I do that if he knew how
sick he’d jump on plane and come back. I’m fine. He can finish the rest of
the trip. Besides, if you keep bringing me soup I’m sure I’ll be better in no
time.” I’m about to protest when she jumps in again. “Do. Not. Tell. Him.
Even sick I can take you down, Philip Crew.”
I grin at her, enjoying her bravado even though we know that’s a bald-
faced lie.
We eat in silence for a few minutes before Christa looks at me. “It’s
been awhile.”
“What?”
“It’s been awhile since you’ve actually been with someone.”
“Checking up on me?” I ask, trying to get her off this course.
She puts the lid back on the container of soup, only half finished. “It’s
not exactly a secret. Are you okay?”
“Christa, just because I’m not in a relationship doesn’t mean I’m
broken.”
“I’m not Sean,” she says. “You can’t fool me with this macho bullshit.
I’m asking if you’re okay. Not because of the fact that you’re not seeing
anyone, but because I know where you came from. I know it wasn’t easy to
get as far as you have, and I know it’s just as easy to slip back there.”
I wrap up the rest of my burger, my appetite gone and my stomach
suddenly roiling. Sean and Christa have been together a long time, and I
knew that she knew, but I guess I hadn’t realized how much. When I came
back from overseas, my mind was so blasted from the war that I was turned
inside out. I couldn’t walk down the street without thinking someone was
going to jump out, I couldn’t breathe without smelling smoke and fire, I
couldn’t sleep without dreaming about screaming and blood. Sean, Morgan,
and sometimes Christa were the ones who got me back on track. They
brought me in as a partner in the gym, they gave me tasks, they helped me
focus on the world around me as it actually was and not as it had been.
Made me see someone until I could admit what was really wrong with me.
Slowly I got better, but it’s never really gone away. I got to a place
where I would bury the pain. Bury it in my climbing, in my odd jobs, in the
women I would fuck for a night and then leave. But those things don’t
really mask it, what I’ve gone through. I pretend they do, and I pretend I’m
fine. No one’s noticed that I’m not until now. The nightmares were gone for
a long while, but they’ve started making an appearance again. It’s why I’m
so tired, why I want intimacy instead of just a sex. I would go out, and find
myself uninterested in the same kind of women I had been sleeping with for
the last year and a half.
Then I walked into that class and I saw Mayra. For the first time in a
really long time, my body saw something that it wanted. I’m not sure what
that means, but it makes the fact that she pushed me away even more
confusing, even more of a letdown. Christa is still looking at me
expectantly.
“I’m not great,” I say. “But I’m okay.”
“How bad is it?”
I shrug. “I’m not jumping at shadows.”
“But…”
“What do you want me to say?” I clear my throat. “I’m in a downswing.
It’ll get better. It’s bound to.”
She nods. “Okay. I’ll let you be. But you know we’re here for you,
right?” A coughing fit bursts through her words, but I get the gist.
“Yeah.”
I pack up what’s left of my food to take home with me, standing and
stretching. “You should rest,” I say. “You want to be better by the time Sean
comes home and is furious with how sick you were.”
She groans. “All I’m doing is resting.”
“Finish the soup. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
 “Fine.” She grabs the remote for the TV, snuggling back down into her
blankets. I’m halfway to the door when she calls after me. “Philip. If I see
this girl. What was her name?”
“Mayra.”
“Right,” she says, blowing her nose. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”
I laugh a little. “Thanks for that. And for the other thing.”
“Anytime.”
I lock the door behind me, putting the spare key back behind the brick it
came from. Mayra. The thought of her clears up the darkness lurking in my
head. It’s like seeing a sliver of blue sky on a cloudy day. Just a glimpse of
hope—a reminder that things aren’t necessarily as bleak as you think they
are. I let her fill up my mind—her golden blonde hair, and the way her
curves pressed against me. I didn’t have a chance to explore her body, but
damn I want to have my hands full of her.
My dick agrees, roaring to life, harder than I’ve been in a long time. It’s
a short drive to my house, and I’m grateful. I can’t stop thinking about what
would have happened if she hadn’t stopped, if I had kissed her, and if I
don’t get inside I’m going to be jerking off in my car for all my neighbors
to see. As it is, I barely make it inside, dropping everything, I lean against
my front door with my cock in my hand, thinking about what might have
been.
I might have kissed her, caressing my tongue against her lips, feeling
her open to me, her back arching and breasts pushing against my chest. Her
nipples would be hard enough for me to feel through our clothes, and her
breath would be shallow, panting for me. I might have run my hands
underneath her shirt, reveling in the first touch of skin. I might have said
Come with me, and she would have said yes, an answer so soft and breathy
it would make my cock even harder.
I would have pulled her with me into the back room of the Pleasure
Chest, finding a small amount of privacy among the shelves of sex toys—
ignoring the fact that I wanted to use every single one on her. She would
have pulled my face down to meet hers again as I undid the buttons on her
jeans. I would slip my fingers down, running them through her folds,
savoring her wetness before slipping them into the slick heat of her cunt.
My hand moves faster on my cock and I’m so close to coming that I
can’t even stand. I lower myself to my knees, never letting go of that image
of her. I imagine her sliding her pants off her hips, helping me get my belt
open, fumbling with the anticipation. I would have fit myself against her,
plunging inside in one long, smooth stroke. I can hear the moan she would
make as I entered her, imagine the heat surrounding my cock on all sides,
the feeling as she squeezes me with her pussy—
My balls tighten, and lightning thrums through my nerves as I come
over my hand. I groan as the sweet release of orgasm rushes through me,
releasing tension I didn’t even know I was carrying. My eyes are closed as I
let the waves of pleasure pulse through me, spill out of me.
When it’s over my body is filled with tremors. Delicious little signs of
weakness from something that was amazing. I can’t remember the last time
I came like that. I selfishly hope that Christa sees her, that I somehow have
an opportunity to see her again. I don’t want to upset her more than I
already have, but I can’t imagine never seeing her again, never having the
opportunity to live out that fantasy I just painted for myself.
I lean back against the door, spent. One things for sure, even if I never
see her again, today’s one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.
But damn, I hope I see her again.
 6

MAYRA

I turn over in my bed for what feels like the millionth time. This bed is too
hot, even with the air blasting and the covers thrown back. It’s because it’s
L.A. in the middle of summer, and is not because every time I close my
eyes I see Philip Crew. It’s most certainly not the dream I had where his
head was settled firmly between my legs, tongue driving me mad with
pleasure before he gave me exactly what I wanted. In that dream he fucked
me breathless into more than one of the best orgasms of my life and I woke
up wet and panting, cursing the universe that he’s a player and that it can’t
be real. Even my fingers and imagination aren’t enough to get rid of the
sexual energy clinging to me—I tried. Multiple times.
Now I’m tossing, trying to get a couple hours of sleep before the day.
It’s Saturday, so I have nowhere to be. It’s fucking unfair that I can’t sleep
in because of a dream. I roll over again, adjusting my pillow and closing my
eyes. I will myself to go back to sleep. Dreamless, peaceful sleep. Instead, I
feel the way his lips pulled at the skin of my wrist. I remember the press of
his hard cock against my leg. I’m face to face with those dark blue eyes,
melting with want, waiting for him to kiss me.
Damn it. Damn it all to hell.
My body clearly doesn’t understand the impossibility of this situation,
warming at just the thought of touching Philip again. My pussy is wet again
—hell, that’s been its natural state for the last twelve hours. I grab blindly
for my phone, checking the time. It’s barely six a.m. I groan, pulling a
pillow over my head. Am I really going to be defeated by my own body?
No. It’s my day off. For once, everything in the land of public relations is
quiet. There’s no terrible celebrity blunder to fix, no fire to put out. I’m
free, and I’m going to sleep. That’s that.
As soon as my eyes close I’m confronted by the feeling of his hands on
mine as he guides me in how to jerk someone off. You own his pleasure.
I sit up and fling the pillow across the room in frustration. That doesn’t
help. That is the complete opposite of helping. I get out of bed, resigning
myself to the fact that my body is not going to let me sleep right now. I pull
on the closest workout gear I can find, because the only thing that is going
to help me right now is to force my body into submission, and that means
getting out every ounce of energy that I possibly can.
I grab my gym bag and purse and head out the door. My gym isn’t far,
and I decide to walk. One more thing to expend energy. Even though it’s
L.A., and everyone is more than a little gym crazy, it’s still Saturday. Only
the most dedicated people—or the insomniacs like me—are at the gym this
early on a Saturday, so it’s pretty empty. I have no problem getting a good
treadmill. I set the channel on the TV to the food channel, only to change it
to the news because they’re making some kind of dessert with chocolate
drizzle and all I can think about is Philip licking it off me.
I don’t understand what’s happening. It hasn’t even been a month since
I’ve had actual sex, I shouldn’t be in this kind of frenzy. It doesn’t matter
why it’s happening. I can beat it. I turn up the speed on the treadmill and
focus on the story of the wildfires in the hills surrounding L.A.
An hour later, I’m exhausted from running but I don’t stop. I hit all my
favorite weight machines. It’s been a few days since I did them, and now
seems like the perfect time. By the time I’ve finished I’m sweating and
shaky in that way that tells me I’ll be the good kind of sore tomorrow. I may
actually be able to take a nap with the kind of workout I just put myself
through, though I can’t say that the workout has lessened my sexual energy.
I can feel it simmering beneath the surface, ready to rise up. But at least it’s
a little less desperate.
I can’t go back to that class—can’t see him again. If I do, I’ll give in. I
know I will. I’ll let him take me home, and if he’s anything like what I
imagined, I will let him do whatever he wants, for as long as he wants. And
then he’ll disappear, and even though I know it will happen, and even
though I tell myself it’s only one time, I’ll still be sad. He won’t feel a
thing, because I’ll be just a notch in his very long belt. I’ve been there, done
that. I’m not going to do it again. So I’m not going to think about him, and
I’m not going back to that class.
I make the shower as hot as I can stand it, and it feels amazing. I stand
under the water longer than I probably should, letting it soothe my muscles
and relax my mind. From my purse in the little changing area, I hear the
ding of a text message. Turning off the water, I wrap a towel around myself
and dig through my purse, looking for my phone where I threw it before I
left the house. Before I can find it, I come face to face with the neon dildo.
In my hurry to leave the store yesterday, I forgot to put it back. But I
can’t even think about that, because everything I’ve spent the last couple
hours pushing down comes roaring back. I see Philip’s smirk, hear his voice
as he says Well…not quite my size. I avoided looking at it much yesterday,
but I do now. It’s a detailed replica, subtle veins running along the surface
and the texture soft and supple like skin. The swirl of neon colors removes
it from reality in a pleasant way. I like it—flesh colored dildos always freak
me out a little. I pick it up, and I remember its name. The Mustang. I like
the feel of it in my hands—soft enough to be pliable, firm enough to feel
real. A ferocious curiosity grips me, and before I even realize I’m washing
off the dildo and making sure that the door to my changing room is locked.
I peek outside to make sure I’m alone, but luckily it’s still early and I don’t
hear anyone else in the locker room.
If this toy is actually close to his size, then I want to know how he fits in
me, and how much I can take. I raise the toy—the Mustang—to my lips,
and I feel a quiver of anxiety. This dildo isn’t small, and if he’s bigger than
this…
His voice echoes in my head again, and I remember the way his breath
felt against my ear. Trust yourself to be in the moment. You’re a beautiful
woman.
I suck the head of the dildo into my mouth, and can’t help but imagine
that it’s him. That I’m kneeling in front of him, taking him as deep as I can.
I fail completely to stifle my moan, and I hope that there is actually no one
in here. I do exactly what Philip described, swirling my tongue around the
head and teasing the bottom. I suck on it, picturing the way his eyes might
close as I do. Gripping the base, I push it deeper into my mouth. I take it as
deep as I can, letting the tip touch the back of my throat, enjoying the
smoothness of the dildos surface and the feeling of fullness it gives me.
 I didn’t like going down on Bryan. Now I know he never liked it either.
But by comparison, just the thought of taking Philip into my mouth is far
more exciting. I release the dildo, taking a breath. I can’t go back to the
class, but I can take this. I’ve been trying to push away this arousal, but
looking at this toy I know the only way I’m going to find the release my
body is seeking is by embracing it. I let my towel fall away, relaxing on the
bench and spreading my legs wide.
I take the toy and fit it against myself, imagining it’s not a toy. The
sensation takes my breath away as the head of the Mustang slips inside my
pussy. It’s big enough to fill me up, stretching me out pleasantly as it curves
upwards. This toy feels good—more real than anything else I’ve ever tried
—and it’s that much easier to imagine that it’s the real thing. I can see
Philip easing himself into me, that ridiculously smirk on his face. The dildo
is fully inside me now, the base flush against me, and for the first time in
what feels like forever my mind is clear. This is exactly what my body
wanted, even if it’s not quite the real thing, it’s as close as I’m going to get.
I begin to thrust the dildo into myself, letting my eyes close, floating in
this feeling of fullness and friction. I conjure up the dream from last night,
Philip hovering over me, his lips brushing my collarbone as he thrusts his
hips into me. In my dream I wrapped my legs around his waist as he fucked
me, and I try to mimic those movements with my hand. My breath is
coming in short gasps, delicious pressure building inside me. Pressing the
Mustang in to the hilt, I flick my thumb across my clit. I fuck myself with
short, deep, strokes, sending bursts of pleasure through me. My muscles
start to shake uncontrollably as I combine the thrusts with my fingers on my
clit.
In my mind I can hear Philip groaning as he pounds into me, close to
coming. I’m close too, biting my lip to keep myself from moaning in the
middle of my locker room. I can’t stop, moving faster with both my hands,
and everything happens at once. With a final slide of my fingers, my
orgasm explodes through me. My pussy squeezes down on the dildo as I
continue to thrust, my body jerking with the power of my response. My feet
come off the floor, and I’m lost—drowning in sensation. There’s nothing I
can do but hold on as I’m wracked by waves of pleasure.
I come back to myself, slumped against the wall of the changing room,
breaths heaving. I haven’t had an orgasm like that in a long time. I certainly
never had an orgasm like that with Bryan. I hear the door to a locker slam
shut, and I shoot upright, realizing now that I actually wasn’t alone. I have
no idea what sounds I might have just made while in the throes of that
orgasm, and a flush runs up my body. I think that’s my cue to leave.
I quickly wash the dildo and shove it back in my purse, and then put on
the spare set of clothes I had in my gym bag. I walk out of the locker room
quickly and with my head down, making sure not to make eye contact with
the couple people I see who are in the room. The air outside is a breath of
relief, and I relax. My body and my mind feel at ease, and I’m enjoying the
pleasant warmth between my legs. I definitely can’t just give that dildo
back now. I’ll have to pay for it when I can—after tomorrow when the
danger of running into Philip has passed.
The day is shaping up to be a beautiful one despite the heat that’s
always present this time of year. The sky is clear and the walk back to my
house is a nice one. I stop at one of the coffee shops that I enjoy and grab a
hot tea. I don’t go for coffee—I’m still hoping that I might be able to take a
nap later today now that my body seems to be in a better state of relaxation.
As I turn the corner down my street, I realize I threw my keys into my purse
when I left the house and now they’re floating somewhere in the bottom of
my bag.
I dig through the bottom of my bag with one hand, pushing aside the
dildo and my phone and my wallet and a bunch of other things that have
ended up as the detritus of my everyday life. I can hear my keys jingling,
but they keep slipping just out of reach of my fingers. Suddenly there’s
another person, and I’m falling flat onto my butt on the sidewalk. My tea
splatters, my purse goes flying, and I’m looking up into the face of the
human wall that just knocked me over.
No fucking way.
Philip Crew is standing over me, and that damned neon dildo just rolled
out of my purse and landed at his feet.
 7

MAYRA

Of course. Of course in a city the size of L.A. I would run into the guy I’m
trying to avoid on the actual street I live on.
Philip bends down, picking up the dildo. He looks at me, a knowing
smile sliding across his face. “You’ve been having fun, I see,” he says.
I flush, embarrassed that he might think I would use that while thinking
about him. Even more embarrassed that he’d be right. I grab my purse off
the ground, scrambling to my feet. The tea is a lost cause. It’s all over the
ground, but it’s more on me. I ask him, “What are you doing here?”
“The gym I own,” he says, pointing in the direction I came from. “It’s
just a couple blocks from here. I was just heading into to the office to do
some housekeeping.”
“Oh.” I vaguely recall a rock climbing gym in that area, and I never
really payed attention because I never wanted to do it.
“What are you doing here?” he returns the question.
“Well, I was at the gym. Then I was drinking tea,” I gesture to the
ground, “and now, I’m going home.”
He takes a step back, extending his hands in surrender—a gesture that is
made far more hilarious with a dildo in his hands. “Listen, Mayra. I’m glad
this happened. I wanted to check in with you, and after what happened I
wasn’t sure you were planning on coming back tomorrow.”
“You’re right, I wasn’t.”
“I don’t know what happened.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “If I
came on too strong, I really apologize. I didn’t mean to scare you or make
you uncomfortable. I would never want that.”
 I have to admit, that wasn’t what I was expecting. I would have thought
he would chase after me to soothe his wounded pride—to prove that he
could get whatever girl he chose. I sigh, my resolve to completely avoid
him wavering.
I can feel the spilt tea soaking through my shirt, the sugar I used making
my skin sticky. At the very least I can invite him in and talk to him. That’s
all that has to happen. Maybe if I explain what happened with Bryan he’ll
understand why I came to the class, and why I can’t jump in with someone
who's bound to treat me the same way. And if I’m going to have this
conversation, I’m going to do it in a clean shirt.
I point towards my house. “I live right there. Do you want to come in
for a second? I’ll explain, and have the chance to clean up.”
“I’d love that,” he says.
I finally manage to find my keys, which is what had started this whole
situation. I wonder what I would have done if I hadn’t been digging in my
bag and had just seen him coming towards me. Would I have hidden behind
a tree or something? Part of me hopes I’d have enough pride not to do that.
The other part of me knows that’s exactly what I would have done. There’s
the tiniest part of me that’s thinking that just going and hiding behind a tree
until he goes away might still work, but I’m not crazy enough to try.
My house is split into two separate apartments, and I have the top floor.
One of the reasons I liked it when I moved in was the proximity to people
in an emergency, but also the privacy or a separate entrance.
Philip follows me up the stairs and I’m acutely aware of how close his
body is behind me. I cast my eyes around my apartment, making sure there
isn’t anything too messy piled up. Once I’m sure I’m not going to be
mortified, I let him in and let him follow me into the kitchen. I dump my
bags onto a chair and head towards my bedroom. “Make yourself at home.
I’ll be back in a second.”
I tear off the shirt covered in tea, quickly replacing it with another t-shirt
—I make sure it’s one of my cute ones. I glance in the mirror, lamenting my
lack of make-up while simultaneously chiding myself for wanting to put on
make-up for him. I run my fingers through my hair a couple times,
resigning myself to my post gym look as I hear him say something from the
kitchen. It’s muffled and I don’t catch it.
Deciding to call my hair a loss, I grab a hair tie, twisting it up into a
ponytail while I go back into the kitchen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you
said.”
He grins. “I asked why you kept the dildo.”
The question takes me off guard, and I feel myself freeze up, feel my
face go pink with embarrassment. ‘I kept the dildo because I was afraid I’d
plaster my body against yours if I got close enough to put it back’ is not an
acceptable answer. Subject change…now. “Do you want something to
drink?” I go to the fridge, deciding avoidance is the best choice. “I’ve got
water, soda, coffee, tea.”
“I’m fine. Thanks,” he says. I grab a water bottle from the fridge, and
when I turn around he’s right there. “Why did you keep it?” His voice is a
low rumble that I feel in my bones, and I curse my body for responding—
for loving it.
He’s very bad at changing the subject. I can’t seem to find my voice,
and when I do grasp my words, I stumble over them. “It was an accident. I
meant to put it back, and then everything happened and I forgot and—”
He takes a step closer to me and my voice fails. It feels like déjà vu. I’m
so aware of the distance between him and me that the sound of his voice
feels like a caress on my skin. “You didn’t have to go so far to imagine what
I would feel like.”
“I didn’t—that’s not why—” the connection between my brain and my
words has short circuited. I can barely breathe, let alone speak.
“That’s not what I wanted,” he says, “when I told you imagine me.”
I lean back against the refrigerator, letting it support my weight. “What
did you want?”
“To take you home with me.” He smiles, reaching for my hand,
entwining our fingers. “Guess that didn’t work out too well.”
A knot forms in the pit of my stomach. “I know. I’m sorry—I can
explain.”
In another déjà vu, he lifts my wrist to his lips, and I can tell he’s doing
it to remind me exactly where we left off, and where we have the possibility
of going. “You don’t have to apologize or explain anything. But I want you
to know that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, and you don’t
have to imagine anything.”
“Oh?” My voice is shaky, and every reason I wanted this comes rushing
back.
“I’m here now, and I’m the real thing.” His smile is wicked, promising
to give me everything that a toy can’t. “You don’t have to hold back with
me.” He pulls me against his body, and I love the way he feels against me—
solid and firm. Seeing him naked is going to be glorious.
My body has already made its decision, but my mind is a heartbeat
slower. They’re almost never on the same page, but it would be helpful if
they could work together just this once. Philip said one thing that Bryan
used to say. That’s it. It’s not fair to paint him with that brush when I don’t
know him. And I don’t even have to know him. I want him—I want this. I
want to take this chance to feel something good and take a step forward.
“Do you want me to explain why I left?”
His fingers slide up my side, and I fight the urge to lean into his touch
as his hand cups the back of my neck. “Is it going to make you leave
again?” he asks.
I search inside myself for a second, seeking out any remaining
hesitation and find none. I’ve made my choice. “No,” I say. “I want you.”
“Then I’m yours.”
He pulls my lips to his, and the feeling that sweeps through me is like
falling and flying or somewhere in-between. That burning desire that I’ve
had running through me comes roaring back to life, and I can feel myself
melting against him. His hands sweep down my back and press me against
him, and just like yesterday, I can feel how hard he is. I wrap my arms
around his neck, consumed by the feeling that I’m not close enough. I don’t
remember the last time I felt this kind of raw need. But it doesn’t matter,
because he’s here and the only thing that will fix it is the touch of his skin.
I break away from him just long enough to pull him through the door
and into the living room. I know what I want—I want to own his pleasure—
and I’m not going to own it in the kitchen. He doesn’t stop touching me,
even while I’m guiding him. His fingers are on my hips keeping me close,
his lips leaning down to brush my neck. Every new place he finds sends
delicious echoes along my skin, and I find myself smiling. I haven’t been
this happy since…since what I’m intentionally not going to think about
right now. For longer than I like to remember.
I push Philip down onto the couch, straddling him before he can make a
move. The hardness of his cock is pushing up against me and the pressure
on my clit is driving me crazy. My hips are moving on their own, pressing
harder onto him while I kiss him. He groans, and I smile against his lips. I
love that he’s just as turned on as I am. I love making him feel that way—
and I know exactly how to make it even better. After all, he gave me a
roadmap.
His hands are already at my hips, and I guide him to the hem of my
shirt, lean into him while he strips it off me. This time it’s him who breaks
away. He takes his time with my bra, caressing my skin while undoing the
clasps and pulling off the straps. He finishes removing the bra, and I watch
his eyes as he takes me in. I’ve never been fully comfortable in my skin,
and someone like him seeing me naked would normally make me break out
into a cold sweat. But the way he’s looking at me, I’ve never felt sexier.
Philip slides his hands up my ribs and I enjoy every inch of contact. He
keeps going until he’s cupping my breasts, the roughness of his fingers
making me shiver as he plays with them. I close my eyes for a moment,
enjoying the feeling of stroking, pinching, squeezing. I never knew that my
breasts could feel so much. Bryan never liked playing with them unless—
I shut the thought down, opening my eyes just as Philip puts his mouth
on me. I gasp at the unexpectedness of it. His tongue flicks over my nipple
and it feels like he’s licking me elsewhere, long tendrils of pleasure
uncurling under my skin. He moves to my other breast, leaving my nipple
hard and aching in his wake. There’s not much I want right now other than
to feel his lips on my skin, and I’ll let him have his turn, but first I have a
plan.
I pull away from him, sliding down his body, down onto my knees. I see
the realization of what I have planned hit him, and he starts to protest.
“Mayra, you don’t have to—”
“This is your favorite, right?” I cut him off. I run my hands down his
chest, waiting for his response.
I see his throat move as he swallows. “Yes.”
“Let me do this for you,” I say, before he can say anything else. “After
all, you said you’d give me a private lesson.”
He watches me as I undo his belt and unzip his jeans. “I did say that.”
“So teach me,” I say. “Tell me what to do while my mouth is on you.”
I can’t keep myself in check anymore, and I reach out to touch his cock.
Even through the fabric of his underwear I can feel how rigid he is, and I
can’t help but wonder how much like the dildo he actually is. Philip takes
the final step, pulling his cock out of his underwear. He was modest, saying
that the dildo was almost his size. He’s longer and thicker, though the gentle
curve is remarkably similar. I remember how little of the dildo I was able to
fit in my mouth, and wonder if this will be the same. If I can’t, and I’m as
bad at this as Bryan says I am, then Philip isn’t in for a terribly pleasant
experience.
I shake free of those thoughts, remembering what Philip said about his
perfect blowjob. Confidence and eagerness were at the top of list. I reach
out again, taking him in my hand. I run my fingers over his skin, teasing
him, tracing his veins from the top and circling his head with my fingers.
Remembering his hands on me as I jerked off that dildo, I blush, but right at
this moment, I’m glad he did it. I close my fist around him, pulling along
him from base to tip, just like he showed me. Philip’s head falls back
against the couch, and he groans. “That feels amazing, Mayra,” he says, and
even though I’m blushing, a burst of pleasure and pride sparks inside me.
“Remember what I showed you,” he says. “Use some variety. Twist
your hands while you move, or use both.”
I lean further in to him so he has a better view of my breasts, putting
both of my hands on him. Instead of doing just one, I do both, twisting both
my hands around him as I move up and down. He lets out a long breath.
“Yes.”
As I move, I remember what he said about my speed, and I move my
hands faster, and I smile at the way his breath catches. I know what to do
next. I lean down, placing my lips against the tip of his cock. I let my
tongue dart out, sweeping across the opening, and I pull back just as fast. I
move to the side, letting my tongue and mouth brush against him, down one
side and up the other. “Use your tongue,” he says, and his voice is thin—
breathy. “Lick me everywhere, even my balls.”
I press my tongue against the base of his cock, licking up the bottom
like a lollipop, just like he described in class. I lick up and down, using
different patterns with my tongue and making sure that I cover all of him. I
love the salt of his skin, love the little tremors I can feel in his muscles
when I touch a sensitive spot. Dipping my head down further, I follow his
instructions and explore his balls with my tongue. He hisses out a breath,
and it encourages me. I take them fully into my mouth, sucking gently,
continuing my teasing routine.
I can tell he’s struggling with his words and his voice comes through
gritted teeth. “I need your mouth on me now, Mayra. Suck my cock.”
Again, I remember what he said in class, and I take just the tip of him
into my mouth, sucking as hard as I can. I’m rewarded by the sound of him
swearing and his hips driving up towards me. I would be grinning if it
weren’t impossible to smile and suck a cock at the same time. Everything
he said he wanted, I give it to him. I take as much of him as I can, and then
push myself to take more. I swirl and sweep my tongue along him as I pull
back, making sure to mix up my patterns so he’ll never guess what’s
coming. Finally, I look up at him as I push him deep into my mouth.
He’s watching me, his breathing ragged. I feel his hands weave into my
hair, undoing my ponytail. His hand guides my rhythm and speed, showing
me exactly what he needs, and he pushes me a little deeper. He’s cursing
under his breath, telling me how good it feels, and the warmth of his praise
settles in me and motivates me even more. I start using my hands too,
sucking him down like no other blowjob I’ve given. His fingers tighten in
my hair and I look up at him. “I’m going to come,” he says. “Swallow it.
Swallow me.”
I don’t stop to tell him that was always the plan, that I want him so
much that I never considered something else. Instead, I plunge down on his
cock, the deepest I’ve gone. I seal my lips around him and suck, slowly
pulling back up his shaft. I feel his cock twitch inside my mouth, and Philip
groans as the first stream of his cum hits my tongue. He tastes sweeter than
I expected, and I swallow it all as he continues to come. His whole body
relaxes as he finishes, and I look up at him, releasing him from my mouth.
“Show me,” he says, and I open my mouth to show him how empty it is,
how I took everything from him.
He doesn’t look like he’s unhappy, or that he had a bad time. I hope that
going to that class did some good—at least on him—and that he was right,
that I was a good student. But I can’t ask, at least not yet. Once I ask, he’ll
know just how wrong everything is. But I watch his eyes darken as he looks
at me, and I know that we’re not finished yet.
 8

PHILIP

Holy shit.
Staring at Mayra kneeling in front of me, I’m completely dazed. She
just made me come harder than I thought I could, and I still want more of
her. My dick is ready to go again just looking at her. She’s breathing hard, a
faint sheen of sweat on her skin from the effort, and damn if she isn’t the
most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. And she was clearly paying attention to
what I said in class yesterday, she did everything I said that I wanted in a
blowjob—hell I didn’t even need to give her the tips I did. I only did it
because she asked. Her mouth is by far the best thing my cock has ever felt.
For now. I have a feeling that her pussy is going to beat that, and I have
every intention of finding out. I stand, pulling her to her feet and
immediately sweeping her off them. I pause only for a moment to grab that
dildo off the table before heading in the direction she disappeared earlier.
Her bedroom must be back here.
“What are you doing?” she asks, and I look down to find her tits
bouncing beautifully as I walk with her.
I find her bedroom at the end of the hall, the morning light pouring in
from the windows and highlighting a gorgeous bed. “I’m going to fuck
you,” I say as I set her down, “and I’m not going to do it on the couch.” Her
breath catches, and I’m close enough to see her eyes go wide with
anticipation and arousal. I stand back from the bed, stripping off my shirt
and pushing my jeans off my hips. She’s already seen mine, and now I want
to see hers.
 I lean over her, pressing my lips against her stomach and hooking my
fingers in her leggings. “I want to see that pretty cunt of yours,” I whisper
against her skin, and I feel her shudder. The leggings peel away from her
skin and I’m mesmerized by her legs. Every inch of them is smooth and the
light coming in makes her skin glow. I toss the leggings away and return to
her stomach, kissing my way to that patch of hair between her legs. “Open
for me,” I say, and she does.
Her pussy is pink and gorgeous, already wet and glistening. The fact
that I did this—that her body is responding to mine—makes me feel primal
and alive, and I’m overcome with the need to taste her. She gasps as I make
contact, my lips smoothing across her clit, tongue flicking out to tease. She
tastes good, sweet and floral and female. I sweep my tongue down across
her pussy, gathering her wetness on my tongue, licking her clean.
Her opening is too tempting to resist, and I cover it with my lips, tracing
the edges with my tongue. She groans, and I fight the smile that plays at my
lips. Instead, I dip my tongue inside her cunt, feeling her curves and heat.
Sliding my mouth back to her clit, I suck. I drag her clit as deep inside my
mouth as it can go, and her hips thrust upwards, further into my mouth.
She shoves a hand into my hair, holding my face against her as I work
her pussy with long, sweeping strokes of my tongue. She’s so aroused, it’s
not going to take long for her to come. It won’t be the last time she comes
today. Using my tongue, I move back and forth over her clit, creating a slow
rhythm. I keep it steady, letting her arousal build, letting her body get used
to the speed and look for more. As her hips start to move against me, I
move my tongue faster. My flicking back and forth is like lightning, and I
go faster until I can’t anymore. Her breath is coming heavy gasps, and I
hear her murmuring things under her breath. Her muscles are starting to
shake, and I know that she’s almost there.
Along with the movement of my tongue, I suck her clit again, savoring
the taste and the cry it draws from her. Her hips are riding my face, and I
know she’s seconds away. I give her clit one last stroke, sucking it between
my teeth. Her orgasm breaks with a soft cry, and another burst of her
sweetness floods over my tongue. I swirl my tongue across her pussy,
feeling her contract underneath me, and I don’t pull my mouth away from
her until I feel her body settle.
She sighs, and I love how content it sounds. Even if she is happy, I’m
not close to finished. I crawl up her body, taking my time. I kiss the curve
of her hip, lick the skin under her breast, draw her nipples into my mouth
until I feel them harden between my lips. I’m enthralled with the way her
body responds to mine, watching her skin flush as I touch her. Finally, I’m
face to face with her, her blonde hair a tangled mess across the sheets. I kiss
her, pressing my body against hers and reveling in the softness of her skin.
Touching her is like a high I never want to come down from.
“That was…really good,” she says, and I laugh.
My own voice is rough, from her pleasure and mine and wanting more.
“I’m glad you thought so. I’ve never taken a class in how to eat pussy.”
I watch her cheeks go pink, and smile at how easy her skin changes.
“You don’t need to,” she says.
“Speaking of classes,” I say, picking up the dildo from where I left it on
the bed and bringing it up to show her. “I want to know something.”
She’s eyeing the Mustang in my hand, and I wonder what she’s
thinking. I wonder if she’s remembering what she did with it after she left
the class, the same way I couldn’t stop myself from fantasizing about her.
“Did you use this to imagine me?”
Her cheeks aren’t pink anymore, they’ve blossomed into a flaming red.
But all the same she locks eyes with me, and she says, “Yes.”
My cock goes fully hard again at the fact that she thought about me. I
move the dildo down, fit it against her pussy, slide it in. She’s still so wet
that it goes in easily, and she gasps, her back arching. It’s a gorgeous sight.
“Did you fuck yourself with it, thinking it was me?”
“Yes,” she says immediately.
I pull the dildo back, almost all the way, and push it back in to the hilt,
the suction cup almost flush with her skin. She gasps again, and her eyes
flutter closed. I lean in, pressing my lips to her ear. “Did you come?”
She shudders as I thrust the Mustang in again. “Yes.”
I fuck her slowly with the toy, using it to warm her up. I lied a little bit
when I said this toy was my size. I know I’m bigger, but I wanted to see her
blush. “Do you want to know what the real thing feels like?”
Her eyes snap open, and I kiss her, pressing the dildo deep, holding it in
place. She nods as I kiss her, and I pull the toy out of her pussy. I bring it up
to her mouth. “Taste yourself,” I say softly, and she does. She opens her
mouth and lets me put the toy inside. She sucks it down, and my cock is
aching it’s so hard. Seeing her taste her wetness on this toy is almost as hot
as seeing my cock in her mouth. A shock so raw goes through me, I know I
can’t wait anymore to actually be inside her.
I grab a condom from my wallet and put it on, fitting myself between
her legs. I press inside her, and I can’t stop a moan as I sink into her heat. I
was right, her cunt hugging my cock is the by far the best thing its ever felt.
Her gaze goes glassy as I push in to the hilt. “Mayra.” She looks at me, and
the look of pleasure on her face sends triumph roaring through my system.
“How does it feel?”
“Good,” she says. “More than good.”
Keeping my cock all the way inside her, I lean down to her lips. “Don’t
hold back,” I say, between kissing her. “I want to hear you moan. I want to
hear you scream. I want to hear you say my name.”
I pull out, and thrust back in, and it feels like heaven. I pull away from
her, and I start moving inside her. I roll my hips against her, making sure I
touch her already sensitive clit. I try to go slow, to draw out the feelings,
and it’s sweet torture. I feel a hand on my chest, and I realize I’ve closed
my eyes. Mayra is looking up at me, and she’s smiling. She wraps her legs
around my waist, and pulls me closer. “My vagina isn’t made of glass,” she
says, echoing my words from yesterday. “You can give it a good pounding.”
“Mayra—”
She thrusts her hips into mine, and I stop speaking. “Fuck me,” she
says.
How can I say no to that? I lace my fingers with hers, holding her hands
against the bed, and I fuck her.
 9

MAYRA

The first time Philip entered me, I thought I saw stars. I was wrong. Now
that he’s actually fucking me, I’m seeing galaxies.
He feels so much bigger than that dildo, and even though that little toy
gave me the best orgasm of my life, I have a feeling it’s about to get beat
out by Philip’s cock. I lock my ankles behind his back, forcing him deeper
into me. Every stroke fills me up to the brim, and I feel deliciously
stretched, the fiction setting off a wildfire of pleasure inside. Another
orgasm is building inside me, and I’m not ready for it. I haven’t even
recovered from the last one. But Philip isn’t going to stop, and I don’t want
him to.
Sex has never felt this good—nothing has ever felt this good. And
there’s a part of my brain that wonders if I was never bad at sex, that I had
just never encountered someone that truly aroused me. And if that’s true,
then there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m still not totally convinced, but I
know I’m going to think about it later. Right now I can’t think because the
way Philip is moving inside me doesn’t let me think about anything but the
pleasure radiating through me.
The tip of his cock is striking a place deep inside me that’s making me
shiver. I never even knew that place existed, but he found it and now it’s
screaming his name. Sounds are working themselves up from inside me,
and I fight to keep them inside out of instinct. He can’t hear me, how much
I feel. It’s too much, too good, oh god.
A moan escapes me, and I hear Philip curse. I’m on the very edge of
another orgasm, and I don’t know how much longer I can last. I pull his
face to mine, crushing his lips, breathing him in. I wrap my arms around his
shoulders and force his body against mine. I’m craving his skin and I want
him everywhere. The added contact makes him brush against my clit and
my orgasm rolls over me like a wave. I gasp, and his tongue plunges into
my mouth. The taste of me is still on his tongue, and I love that. My back
arches off the bed, my body’s attempt to take him deeper inside.
The pleasure has peaked, but unlike a normal wave, it hasn’t subsided.
I’m swept away in the high of pleasure, floating on this bright sea. If I
could, I would exist forever in this moment—exquisite pleasure sizzling
through my nerves. My body goes slack, and I feel Philip’s hands on my
body. He runs his hands down my sides, curls them under my back, tilts my
hips up so he has a better angle for his thrusts. I’m still in the hazy
aftermath of orgasm, and I’m perfectly happy to have him inside me. It
feels good, and I savor the feeling of being full. It feels like a balm after
weeks of feeling utterly empty.
Something touches my over-sensitive clit, and my eyes fly open to find
Philip grinning. He brushes his thumb over me again, and I don’t recognize
the sound that comes out of me as my own voice. He does it again, and I
feel a fierce bolt of pleasure. I shake my head, it’s too much too soon. I’ve
never had this many orgasms in such a short time. I don’t think my body
can do it. Philip slows down his pace, instead focusing on my clit. “I said
don’t hold back.” His voice is deep, and it draws me to those eyes. I could
get lost in their color.
“I’m not.”
“You are,” he says, squeezing my clit between two fingers, “Let me hear
you.” He thrusts into me, and stays. I can feel the skin of his thighs pressed
against mine, and this feeling of fullness, of closeness, it’s almost too much.
A finger circling my clit. I groan, “I can’t come again.”
Another thrust, another circle. “You can,” his eyes don’t leave mine.
“And you will.”
He starts to thrust again at full speed, and his fingers don’t leave my clit.
My nerves are overwhelmed, and I cry out, my voice echoing around the
room. I clamp my mouth shut, only to hear Philip’s voice in my ear. “Let it
out. Let me hear you.”
I’m drowning in sensation—friction and fullness and bursting
fireworks, all spinning through me and making me dizzy. He doesn’t stop
and I curse because I don’t want him to stop. What felt like too much a
moment is suddenly everything I want. My hands are grabbing the blankets,
and I’m begging him to make me come, because this orgasm is bigger than
the ones before. I can feel it coming, a wave like nothing I’ve ever felt
before. Philip slams deep inside me, and I recognize his frenzy—he’s close
too.
With a sudden burst of speed, Philip drives me over the edge. I hear
myself scream, the orgasm roaring in my ears as I come. My pussy
contracts, squeezing his cock and I feel him come too, hear him groaning as
he empties himself. I go blind with the pleasure rushing through my body,
able only to feel. The muscles of my body are shaking, every nerve alive
and feeling, an earthquake only my body can feel.
The high passes slowly, and I come back into my body. Philip is beside
me now, and I’m lying on his chest. I don’t remember getting there, but I
don’t care. My body feels limp—wrung out and exhausted with pleasure. I
feel Philip’s chest rise and fall beneath my head, and I take the little energy
I have to run my fingers along his stomach. He didn’t give me a chance to
admire him when he stripped, but he’s just as gorgeous as I thought he
would be. The kind of body being a soldier and a rock climber will give
you. I like how solid it is.
I close my eyes, and a sudden wave of tiredness rolls over me. I
remember I didn’t sleep well because I was thinking about this moment,
and now that it’s here the temptation to sleep is great. But I don’t want to
sleep, because I need to know if it was good for him. I need to know what
he thought about it. His chest starts to vibrate, and I realize he’s laughing. A
sinking feeling seeps into my gut. “What’s so funny?” I ask, my voice
smaller than I would like.
He edges out from underneath me, instead propping himself up on his
elbow beside me. “I was just wondering why on earth you went to a sex
class. Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad you did or this wouldn’t have
happened, but why?”
“What do you mean?” I shake my head a little. The question pops into
my head again, maybe I wasn’t good at sex before because I’d never
actually had good sex. But I want to hear what he means.
He laughs again. “Well you certainly don’t need any tips when it comes
to sex. Or blowjobs.” He presses his lips against my ear. “I don’t think I’ve
ever come so hard.”
 I blush, a warmth spreading through my stomach, and he chuckles
again. “I’m glad you liked it,” I say.
“Are you going to tell me why you left?” His hand is on my hip,
drawing lazy circles, and I like the way it feels.
The words don’t come easily, and I find myself avoiding his eyes. “I—”
I have to clear my throat, my entire body flushing from embarrassment and
the difficulty of saying this out loud. “I was recently in a relationship,” I
say, taking a steadying breath, “When he broke up with me, he told me that
is was because of the sex—that I was bad at it. Blowjobs especially.” I
glance up at Philip, and there’s no smile on his face anymore. Instead
there’s shock, and I see a spark of growing anger in his eyes. I look away
again. “He told me that the rest of me didn’t make up for how bad I was in
bed.”
Suddenly Philip’s lips are on mine, and I’m overwhelmed by the
fierceness of his kiss. His body presses mine down into the mattress, and his
arms lock me against him. His tongue sweeps across my lips, and I open
them. This kiss stirs something in me, an ache deep in my chest. It’s a
feeling I don’t recognize, and I’m not sure I want it to leave. He barely lets
me breathe, and I feel lightheaded when he breaks away. I’ve never been
kissed like that, and I wouldn’t mind being kissed like that forever. I
manage to open my eyes, and when I do Philip’s face is close. He speaks
before I can ask him why he just kissed me like the world was ending.
“Your ex is a fucking idiot,” he says, voice forceful. “You are exquisite,
and sexy. And aside from your pussy, your mouth is the best thing that’s
ever happened to my cock.”
I laugh, the way he phrased that making me smile, but he doesn’t smile.
“Anyone who would make someone like you feel like that doesn’t
deserve to be called a man,” he says, pressing another, gentler, kiss to my
lips. “And anyone lucky enough to share your bed should consider
themselves a lucky bastard.”
My breath catches, because I know that he’s completely serious. “You
think you’re a lucky bastard?” I ask.
“I think I’m the luckiest of bastards. Because if Christa hadn’t asked me
to fill in and you hadn’t walked into Pleasure Chest we wouldn’t be here. If
that’s not luck, I don’t know what is.”
I think about that. Bryan and I never had sex like this. The sex was good
—or I thought it was—but it wasn’t explosive like this. He hadn’t been
nearly into things like my blowjobs. The way he and Philip had reacted
couldn’t have been more different. In light of the sex I had, new things
come to light in my mind. Bryan had largely ignored my breasts unless he
decided to fuck them. It’s no wonder that I was surprised by the way that
Philip made them feel.
Another memory pops to the surface, Bryan chastising me for being
loud on multiple occasions. He said it was distracting, and unsexy. I’ve
been quiet during sex ever since. I’m not sure why I thought that was okay.
I guess I just loved him enough to ignore it. I guess I loved him enough to
ignore myself entirely. To not realize that I wasn’t the problem.
“Where did you just go?” Philip asks.
I edge myself closer to him again, and I let him kiss me. The world isn’t
ending, but it’s still a damn good kiss. “Thank you,” I say, “for saying those
things.”
“Do you believe me?” he says.
“Yes,” I say, and I do.
“But?”
I sigh. “But when you know someone that well, it’s hard not to think
there’s some grain of truth to what they say.”
He frowns. “He’s wrong, Mayra. That and whatever else he said about
you, he was wrong.”
“You’ve only known me for a day.”
“Even if I’d known you a year he’d still be wrong.”
I smile, his words settling in my chest, warm and perfect. Curling into
him, I finally give into the temptation of a nap. “I’m so tired,” I say. “I slept
terribly because of you.”
He perks up at that. “How so?”
“Ask me when I don’t so desperately need a nap,” I say.
He chuckles, and I feel him pull a blanket up over the two of us. “You
can count on that.” He says, but I’m already fading away.
10
 PHILIP

Mayra falls asleep faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. I almost wish I could
take a nap with her, but I couldn’t sleep now. How could I? I’m fucking
electrified. I want to run a marathon and climb a mountain. Both to
celebrate how amazing that was, and also take out all the incredibly violent
instincts I’m having towards her ex. The guy needs a good punch in the
face. Or ten. Even if someone is bad in bed—which Mayra is the furthest
thing from—what gives you the right to shatter their self-worth? If you
need to break up with someone, break up with them. But the least you can
do is acknowledge that break-ups suck and try to get out with as little
damage to both of you as possible.
I’m so angry at the man, and yet, there’s a part of me that’s grateful. If
he hadn’t been a complete and utter dick I wouldn’t be in this bed right
now. Mayra rolls over in her sleep, and I pull her in so her back is against
my chest. I like the feeling of her breathing against me. After so many
months of not feeling anything—and not admitting that I wasn’t feeling
anything—it feels like I’ve found a crack in the ice. I know Mayra isn’t
some magical key to unlocking my soul, but just knowing that I can feel
like this…I didn’t want to admit that I had given up hope of that.
I’ll have to tell Christa that I don’t need her to put in a good word for
me now. In fact, maybe I can convince Mayra to go with me to check on
Christa later this evening. The thought of taking her with me to go
anywhere feels good. It feels right. I examine this feeling, trying to discern
whether or not this feeling is just because of the sweet relief of connection
or something deeper. I’m honestly not sure which one I’d rather it be. For
the moment though, I’m perfectly happy holding her against me, letting her
sleep. In my struggles with nightmares, I’ve learned that it’s hard to sleep if
you don’t feel safe. I like knowing that I make her feel safe.
Curling my arm around her stomach, I tuck her more solidly against me,
listening to her breathe and settle in to wait.

In spite of myself, I do doze for a while, though I never let myself drift
completely off. It’s a couple of hours before Mayra stirs in my arms,
stretching and turning so that she’s facing me. Her eyes are still heavy with
sleep, but she’s smiling. The sense of rightness flows through me at
knowing I’m the one that put that smile there.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hello.”
“I slept.”
I grin, pulling her in to kiss her. “You did, and you were damn sexy
while doing it.”
“How can you be sexy while sleeping?” She laughs.
“You were naked and pressed against me—believe me it was sexy.” I
feel my cock stirring, and she does too.
Her eyes widen. “If you make me come again right now I might
explode. I’ve already had more orgasms in one day then I’ve ever had.”
“Three is the most you’ve had?” I feel my eyebrows raise.
That telltale pink colors her cheeks. “Four.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “When was the fourth?”
“At the gym.” She clears her throat, “In the locker room. With the
Mustang.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “That’s bolder than I was thinking.”
“I forgot I had put it in my purse, and I found it while I was at the gym,
and after the night I’d had—”
“You mean where you dreamed about me?” I lean back and pull her
over on top of me, and I feel her nipples harden against my skin.
She huffs a laugh. “Yes.”
“What happened in these dreams of yours?”
 “Pretty much exactly what happened,” she says, leaning down and
pressing her lips to my skin. She drags her lips along my collarbone to my
neck, “but the real thing was better.”
“I would hope so.”
She continues her exploration of my skin. Her lips are soft, and I want
them on my cock again. The thought makes it harder, and I’m glad she can’t
see how much I’m tenting the blanket right now. She might think I’m sex
crazy. “I wanted to ask you something,” I say.
“Sure.”
“The teacher that got sick, my friend Christa,” I say. “I’m going to
check on her this afternoon, bring her some food. I was wondering if you
wanted to come with me?”
Her head pops up, a big smile on her face. “You want me to go
somewhere with you?”
“Yes.”
She nods. “That would be fun. And I suppose that I should thank her for
getting sick, even though that sounds dumb.”
“I was thinking the same thing about your ex,” I laugh, “even though I
want to punch him in the face.”
Mayra laughs, pressing her lips into my skin. “I think I’d kind of like to
see that. Honestly, he’d probably run away.”
“What’s his name?”
“Bryan.”
I nod. Adding together his names and his actions, he sounds like a
pussy. I don’t say it out loud though. “Well, if we ever run into each other, I
guess we’ll find out what happens.”
“Well I’m hoping not to see him again,” she says cheerfully, rolling off
me. “What kind of food do you want to bring to Christa?”
I should answer, but I’m distracted by Mayra’s naked body. She pulls
open a drawer, and retrieves some underwear. I swear, watching a woman
get dressed is almost hotter than watching her get undressed. Especially
when you can now look at her and know exactly what she’s hiding
underneath, what she feels like, how her skin lights up under your touch.
She slides on her panties and a bra, and I get lost in her curves, she turns
and catches me looking. “Sorry,” I say, “did you ask me a question?”
She laughs. “What kind of food for Christa?”
 “I brought her soup last night, so maybe something with more
substance.”
“There’s an organic restaurant down the street,” she says, pulling on a
pair of jeans. “They have really great things like smoothies and stuff, would
that work?”
I nod. “Perfect.” But I’m still engrossed in watching her dress. She pulls
on a loose sleeveless shirt that shows off her shoulders and cleavage and
flows around her waist. It makes her look carefree and so much happier
than she looked yesterday.
“You should get dressed,” she says, smiling at me.
“I’m still hoping that I’ll be able to convince you to get back in here,” I
say, “We can test just how many orgasms you can have in a day.”
Mayra climbs onto the bed, crawling over to me and climbing on top of
me. I grab her hips, letting my cock press against her jeans as she kisses me.
It’s a deep kiss—the kind of kiss that promises something. “That’s very
tempting,” she says, “especially since you’re still naked.”
“It doesn’t have to be a temptation.”
She rolls off me again, avoiding my attempt to pull her back. “My
vagina isn’t made of glass, but it does need a rest.”
I grin at her. “Sounds good. Because rest gives me hope for tonight.”
“Get dressed,” she says. “I’ll grab the menu.”
She heads out into the kitchen and I force myself up off the bed. As I
pull on my shirt and pants I wonder about how I feel right now. I feel like
it’s been overcast for months and the sun has come out. I wonder if it’s
possible for me to feel like this all the time. I hope so.
I really hope so.
11
 MAYRA

Christa’s house isn’t too far from mine, given the spread out nature of L.A.
Philip and I picked up some grilled chicken and vegetables for her from the
restaurant down the street, and I insisted on getting her a smoothie. I have
their smoothies all the time and they’re delicious.
I also woke up from my nap feeling better than I have since the incident
with Bryan. I don’t question the circumstances, and I ignore the logical part
of my brain yelling at me about how ridiculous this is. Instead, I choose to
take this happiness. I’m going to hang out with Philip, help his friend, let
him say nice things about me, and maybe have sex with him again. No
strings, no expectations, just taking the day to be happy.
At Christa’s door, Philip pulls out a loose brick in the wall and dumps
out a key to let us in. “Hello!” he calls through the house, and there’s a
muffled answer from deeper in.
We walk into the kitchen, and Philip puts our bags on the counter. “We
come bearing food.”
“I told you not to do that.” Christa, a petite redhead who I’m sure is a
knockout when she’s not ill, shuffles out of the back hallway. She’s in
pajamas and frankly looks like death warmed over.
He laughs. “And Sean told me to make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine,” she says.
“Right,” Philip says, “I totally believe that.”
Christa coughs, “Okay I’m not fine. But I do feel better than yesterday.”
She finally looks up and sees me. “I see you brought company.”
I give her a little wave. “Hi, sorry.”
 Philip puts his hand on the small of my back. “Christa, I’d like you to
meet Mayra.”
Her head whips around to me, and she suddenly looks at me in an
entirely differently was. “Ohh,” she says. “Of course. Hi.”
“You know me?” I ask.
Christa points at Philip. “This one came over last night to see if you had
ever come to one of my classes before. You really made an impression.”
“Oh, really?” I look over at him, and he’s scratching his neck and
looking at the floor. “I didn’t realize.”
“How’d he find you?” Christa asks, sitting on a stool at the breakfast
bar.
Philip starts unpacking the food. “I didn’t. We literally ran into each
other near the gym.”
“I was looking for my keys in my bag—wasn’t paying attention.” I hand
Christa her smoothie.
She starts drinking it immediately. “You guys are like a walking rom-
com scene.”
“It’s L.A.” Philip says. “They’ve got to get their inspiration
somewhere.”
Christa bursts out laughing and it turns into a coughing fit. “Ugh, don’t
be funny right now. My chest can’t take it.”
“Sorry,” Philip says, and I can tell he’s not sorry.
“How do you guys know each other?” I ask.
“My boyfriend, Sean, is best friends with this guy,” Christa says. “They
were in the army together, and they both do all the wilderness stuff. Sean is
in Colorado on a hiking trip and he made tall-dark-and-brooding over here
promise to babysit me.”
Philip rolls his eyes. “I’m not babysitting you.”
“Are too.” She pulls the top off the chicken I’ve handed her. “But this is
really good, so I’ll let it go. What do you do, Mayra?”
“Public Relations. I work for a firm that does a lot of high profile stuff,
celebrities, brands.”
“Is that fun?” she asks.
“Most days? No,” I say, laughing. “Most days it’s a combination of
damage control and pandering. I’m glad to have the day off.”
Philip winks at me. “Me too.”
 My face goes red, and Christa sees it. Thankfully, she doesn’t say
anything.
“I’m going to use your bathroom,” Philip says. “I’ll be right back.”
“Sure,” Christa says.
He’s gone before I can protest. I’m not afraid of Christa, but I’m always
a little nervous to be alone with new people for the first time.
“So what do you want to know?” she asks me, taking a bite of
vegetables.
“I’m sorry?”
She waves her fork in the general direction Philip went. “We’ve only
got a couple minutes before he comes back, and I’ll answer whatever
questions you have before he comes back.”
“Is he a good guy?” I’m surprised with the speed that the question flies
out of my mouth. I guess it was something I didn’t want to admit that I was
wondering.
Christa finishes chewing a bite of chicken. “He’s the best. He really is.
He’s gone through some stuff—stuff it’s not my place to tell you about—
but he’s got a good heart. I know that’s kind of a cliché, but it’s true.”
I take a sip of my smoothie, the next question lodged in my stomach in
an uncomfortable way. “Is he a player?”
She looks at me, I guess wondering what is driving me to ask that
question. “He’s been with his fair share of women, if that’s what you mean.
And he’s had his reasons, but for what it’s worth, I think he’s looking for
something a little more…settled.”
I nod. “Okay, good to know.” I can’t really think of anything else I want
to ask her. I feel a little weird asking her things I should probably be asking
him. I hear the flush of a toilet somewhere in the house, and I know I only
have a few seconds if I want anything else. The little question seems so
small, so inconsequential that I’m not even sure it’s worth asking, but I do.
“Why me?”
She smiles. “He didn’t say. But you’re the first in a long time.”
I don’t even have time to react to that, as Philip comes back into the
room. “How’s the chicken?” he asks Christa.
“It’s good,” she says. “Making me feel better. In fact, I may be able to
come back to class tomorrow.”
Philip laughs. “Don’t even think about it. Just rest—You’ll have plenty
more classes after this one.”
 Christa grumbles something under her breath but she doesn’t disagree.
She looks between the two of us. “Well, thank you for the food. I do
appreciate it.”
“No problem,” Philip says.
“Hold on.” She holds up a hand. “I wasn’t finished.”
Philip chuckles, and they share a look. It’s a look of long friendship and
understanding.
“I’m glad your brought me food, but it’s a nice day. And judging from
the sex rolling ofo the two of you, I think you owe her dinner.” My face
bursts into flames, and Christa laughs. “I’m a sex teacher, I can tell when
two people have had sex. Especially as recently as the two of you have.”
Philip clears his throat. “I think that can be arranged.” He looks at me
and smiles. “For the record, I was going to ask you to dinner when we left.
She stole my thunder.”
Christa mumbles something about him deserving to have his thunder
stolen, and I smile. “I’d love dinner.”
“Good,” she says, “because there’s nothing worse on a first date than
hanging out with a sick person.”
“Don’t be silly,” I say. “It’s been really nice to meet you.”
“Thanks.” She takes a sip of smoothie. “I hope that you’ll be able to see
me in a better state sometime. Now go out on an actual date before I have to
kick Philip’s ass.”
He leans towards me, his voice a stage whisper. “I don’t remember a
time that she hasn’t threatened to kick my ass.”
“Someone has to keep you in line,” I stage whisper back, and his laugh
fills up the room. It’s a great sound, and I’m smiling now. “So is there
anything good around here?”
Christa nods. “There’s an amazing Thai place a few blocks away.”
“That sounds good to me,” I say.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” he asks her.
She waves him off. “Yes. I’ve got a full slate of Lifetime movies to
watch.”
“If you say so.” He takes my hand. “Ready?”
I like the feeling of our linked hands. “Yeah. I hope you feel better.”
“You and me both,” she says, winking at me.
“Bye, Christa,” Philip calls over his shoulder.
 “I’ll check on her again tomorrow,” he says, as we turn the corner in the
hall.
“I heard that!” Christa calls, and he and I both laugh.
Philip locks the door behind us, putting back the key into its hidden
brick. “So,” he says, “would you like to go to dinner with me?”
“I would love to.”
12
 PHILIP

Christa didn’t lie, this Thai place is really good. We keep the conversation
through dinner light, and it feels very much like an actual first date—though
I don’t think most people on a first date have had the kind of sex that we’ve
had. Neither Mayra or I had realized how hungry we were, so this has been
amazing. Thai food is something I love but rarely have. I’ll have to thank
Christa when I see her.
“Can I ask you something?” Mayra says when we’re looking over the
dessert menu.
A small bubble of anxiety appears in my chest. “Sure.”
“While you were in the bathroom, Christa told me I could ask her
whatever I wanted about you.”
“Great,” I say, laughing nervously.
“I asked if you were a good guy.”
I place my hands out in surrender. “If she said I’m not I can provide
character witnesses.”
She smiles. “No, she said you were. But she also said that you’d gone
through some stuff. Stuff that wasn’t hers to share, and that you were a
good guy anyway.”
The anxiety is replaced by what feels like a rock in my gut. “Oh.”
“I was just wondering what it was, if you want to tell me,” she says,
“Right now I feel like you know more about me than I do you.”
I nod, and our waiter appears. Mayra orders a chocolate cake with green
tea ice cream and I order a crème brûlée. Once the waiter has disappeared
again, I clear my throat. “I told everyone yesterday that I was in the
military.”
She nods. “Army right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Sean got out before I did. I was on a tour overseas—the
middle east, up until two years ago. It’s rough over there.” I pause, mulling
over my words, trying to figure out how to say the truth without saying too
much. “I saw a lot of things, lost people.”
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“What Christa is talking about is when I came back. I struggled a lot
with post-traumatic stress. Nightmares. Depression. I was in a dark place
for a long time. I got better, but it hasn’t been easy. The nightmares have
started to come back recently which is why she’s being a bit of a mother
hen towards me right now.”
There’s a sadness and compassion in her eyes, but no pity. I’m grateful
for that. I’ve gotten used to pity being the automatic response from people
who hear I struggle with PTSD. It’s not something people like to hear
about, and when they do, all they can think about is how bad they feel for
you.
“Will you be okay?” she asks.
It takes me by surprise, that’s not usually the first thing people ask.
They usually say they’re sorry first, and ask for more details about either
my nightmares or depression second. Sometimes they launch into stories
about their own struggles. Mayra’s response is refreshing.
“Yeah,” I say. “I will be. Even if it’s not right away. I work hard so that I
can get there, so I can be okay. After everything, I owe it to those people I
lost not to let this break me, so I do the work. The one thing I know now is
if you put in the work, it gets better.”
In her eyes I see total confidence and belief. I’ve seen that look before
from my friends, and that kind of support from anyone is enough to humble
you. That kind of support from her after such a short time both brings me to
my knees and gives me enough energy to climb a mountain. Then she
smiles, and I feel like a ray of sunshine hits me. “Good,” she says.
We stare at each other, and that warmth spreads through me to other
places. My dick—which has been half-hard ever since we left her house—
decides that now is a good time to go fully hard. I want to be inside her
again—I wasn’t joking when I told her that her pussy was the best thing to
ever happen to my cock. The waiter brings dessert, and I know I’m going
give him a good tip. He has perfect timing. Nothing like a little sweetness to
get a woman in the mood.
She bites into her chocolate cake, and the sound she makes—if I hadn’t
been hard already I would be now. It’s positively sexual. My own dessert is
good, but I’m so distracted watching Mayra eat hers that I barely taste it. I
want to taste the chocolate that’s on her lips and tongue, and I get even
harder because that line of thought leads me to imagine what she’d look like
with chocolate all over her. God, that would be hot.
She looks up to find me staring at her, and she smiles nervously. “What?
Do I have something on my face?”
“No…” I say, “I was just…imagining.”
She takes another bite. “Imagining what?”
I lean forward and lower my voice. “You. Covered in chocolate.”
She freezes, and I see her chest heave a deeper breath. Interesting. I
guess she likes that image too. She shakes herself a little, and looks at me
again. She sees my grin and raises an eyebrow. “If I’m going to have
chocolate all over me, there better be chocolate I can lick off your cock.”
All the blood in my body rushes to my dick, and I feel lightheaded. The
image of Mayra sucking dripping chocolate off my cock dominates my
brain, and I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything so badly. Mayra laughs.
“I thought that might get your attention.”
“Something to put on my bucket list,” I say.
“Oh? What else is on there?”
I take another bite of brûlée. “It’s pretty boring actually. A lot of
climbing related goals. I’d like to a buy a real house at some point, stop
renting.”
“Very adult of you,” she smirks.
“I try.”
We finish our dessert, and I pay for dinner. Mayra tries to protest, but I
insist. When she gives in, she has a small smile, and I wonder if Bryan ever
made her pay for them both. The very thought makes me angry. I’m
tempted to ask her his last name just so I can go give him a piece of my
mind. But then Mayra slips her hand into mine as we exit the restaurant,
and I forget all about Bryan.
Sudden and irrational anger…another sign of PTSD that I’m very aware
of.
 Mayra pulls me out into the warm evening, the sun is still pretty high in
the sky. At this time of year the days are insanely long. A perk of living on
the western coast.
“What do you want to do?” she asks me.
I know exactly what I want to do, though I’m not sure if she’ll agree
with me. “Maybe we should find some chocolate,” I say in her ear as we
walk to my car.
To my surprise, she doesn’t laugh. She looks up at me. “I’m not sure
I’m ready for chocolate.”
“But?” I ask, and she doesn’t answer. Instead she leans back against my
car, grabbing my shirt and pulling me to her. She kisses me, and my arousal
soars. This isn’t a kiss you give someone if you don’t want to fuck them. He
tits are pressed against my chest, and I love the feel of them. I slide my
hands down to her ass, squeezing it, dragging her hips against me and my
cock.
She pulls away, breathing heavily. “Get in the car.”
I unlock the door, and I pull her inside the car with me. I’ve never been
so grateful that the back seat of my car has a lot of room. “I haven’t done
this in a long time,” I say.
She’s grinning. “Me either.”
She kisses me again, and I manage to ask her between kisses, “Are you
sure you don’t want to go back to my place?”
“I don’t want to wait for that,” she says, and her voice is breathy.
She climbs on top of me, and I pull her hips down onto my cock, so she
can feel exactly how hard I am. Just how badly I want her. “You are so
fucking hot,” I tell her. Her lips on mine is the only response I get. I laugh
against her lips. “This position feels familiar.”
“It’s going to have a different ending,” she says.
“Oh?”
“Yes.” She reaches between us, undoing my pants, and freeing my cock.
She grips me, stroking me, taking the condom from my hand and rolling it
on. We struggle in our position to get her pants down, and her frustration is
hot. I’m overwhelmed by how much she wants this, and when she lowers
herself onto me, it’s fucking amazing. I groan, and I thrust up into her. She
squeezes down on my cock, and I think I might come far more quickly than
I want to. I don’t want this to end.
 Wrapping her arms around my neck, Mayra rolls her hips on me. It feels
so good, and if she continues that way I’m going to burst. I put my hands on
her hips, holding her still. “Not so fast,” I say. She tries to move again but I
don’t let her. “I want to test my theory.”
She pulls back, glaring at me, “You want to talk about a theory? Now?”
She thrusts her hips again, and struggling against my hands, and I keep her
pinned on my cock. The way she’s writhing makes my eyes want to roll
back in my head.
“My theory that you can definitely have more than four orgasms in one
day,” I say.
“Fuck me and we’ll find out.” Her voice is rough, desperate.
I let go of one hand, and reach it down between us, wetting myself with
her juices before finding her clit. The little bundle of nerves is so swollen
that I barely have to touch it for her to respond. Her head falls back and she
gasps. I press my thumb hard against her clit, circling and grinding.
“Look at me, Mayra,” I say. She doesn’t, too lost in the feeling, and I
work my other hand into her hair. I pull her face to mine, make sure we’re
eye to eye. I don’t stop working her clit, and her mouth is open in a silent
cry. She’s looking at me, but I know that she’s not seeing me, blind on the
edge of her orgasm. Her breath is coming in shirt grasps, and I don’t let her
clit breathe. She’s close. “Come for me,” I say, and I feel her muscles lock
down. Her pussy spasms around me, and I grit my teeth to keep myself
from coming right then and there.
She falls forward onto my shoulder, limp in the aftermath. “That’s five,”
I say.
“You’re going to kill me,” she says into my shirt.
I smile as I move my hands back to her hips. “I don’t think anyone has
ever died from too many orgasms.”
“Anything is possible.”
“Including you coming again,” I say, and I pull out of her to slam back
in. She cries out into my shoulder, and whatever self-control I thought I had
left disappears. Holding her hips steady, I start a furious rhythm, pounding
up into her. Her fingers dig into my arms as I fuck her, and I can feel her
breath on my neck.
“Philip,” she says. It sounds like half a moan, half a prayer, and my
name on her lips is the best thing I’ve heard all day.
 I can feel her start to shake as she starts to come. Her body forced over
the edge so close on the heels of her last orgasm. I thrust into her once, and
again, letting myself go. She bites into my shoulder as she goes over the
edge with me, her moaning pulling even more pleasure out of me. My
orgasm is bright lightning shooting through my cock, spreading through my
spine and making me dizzy.
We sit settled together, both our chests fighting for air. The windows of
the car have fogged up because as hot as it is outside, we’re even hotter. If
anyone walks by, there won’t be a question about what we’re doing. I pull
her back gently so I can look at her. Her face is red, glistening with sweat.
“Six,” I say, giving her a smirk.
“Fine,” she says, still breathless. “You win.”
“I think we both won there.”
Mayra starts to laugh, and I love the freedom in the sound. She pulls
herself off me and rearranges her clothes while I clean myself up. We
squeeze ourselves into the front seats, and I drive her home. I can’t seem to
keep my hands off her, even while driving. I touch her hand, her thigh, I
even try for higher near her pussy and she playfully slaps my hand away.
Finally, I settle for just her hand. Lacing our fingers together feels natural.
Her hands are so much smaller than mine, but it works.
We don’t say much on the drive back, the atmosphere still charged with
our sex and all the things we said. When we reach her house, I get out with
her. I walk her to the stairs, where she perches one step up. It brings us
closer to the same height.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” I ask.
“At the class?”
“Yeah.”
She makes an exaggerated face like she’s thinking about it. “I don’t
know. You said I didn’t really need the classes.”
“That’s true, I did say that.” I take a step closer. “But who knows, you
might meet someone interesting.”
“Well, in that case—”
I cut her off by kissing her, and she leans into me. I could spend a long
time kissing her and be perfectly content. I pull away, feeling a pang of
satisfaction as her body drifts after mine, like it’s night quite ready for me to
leave. “In that case,” I say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watch her go all the way into her house before I leave.
13
 MAYRA

I make sure to take the dildo with me to the class. I know I can’t give it
back, given how many time it’s been inside of me, but at least I can pay for
it. Luckily for me, the same handsome Asian man is working the front of
the store. I figure I can’t embarrass myself any more than I already did.
He looks up when I reach the counter. “You came back. Good. The first
time is always the hardest.”
“That’s definitely true,” I say, grinning at the innuendo. “I need to pay
for something…I accidentally walked out of the store with one of the test
toys after the class on Friday.”
“Which one?”
I look down at my hands, avoiding looking him in the face. “The Vixen
Mustang.”
“Good choice, girl,” he says. “Not a problem, I’ll ring it up for you. Just
promise me you enjoyed it.”
I look up to him flashing me a blinding smile, and I figure there’s no
harm in it. “You could definitely say that.”
“Then it’s all good.”
He rings me up for the sale, and I thank him. I didn’t even have to take
the dildo out of my bag to prove it, which was nice.
People are already gathering in the curtained area for the class, and I’m
heading over to find my seat when Philip intercepts me. He pulls me
quickly around the curtains and back into the stockroom. “What are you
doing?” I whisper.
 “I had an idea on Friday, that if you hadn’t left we might have ended up
back here. I thought about exactly what I would do to you between these
shelves.”
He presses me against the wall, kissing me in that insane way that
makes me want to rip his clothes off. I reluctantly pull my lips away from
his, “Aren’t you about to teach the class that all those people out there are
waiting for?”
“I’d skip it for this,” he says, voice low and rough.
I let him press me against the wall, and I get carried away in the
sensation of his body against mine. It hasn’t even been a day since I last
tasted him, and somehow it seems like I’ve missed the taste. I run my hands
down his chest, and I can feel the strength hidden beneath his clothes. I
want him naked again, but not here. Not now. Even though his kisses are
like a drug I never want to come off of, I manage to separate us. “There are
even more people here then on Friday. You have to go out there.”
“And this?” he asks, moving his hips against mine so I can feel the rigid
line of his cock.
I try to stop the grin on my face and I can’t. “Later.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, planting a final kiss on me.
I head for the door before he can pull me back and convince me to stay
in this room forever, naked and fucking. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,”
I say as I get to the door. I don’t stay to see his reaction. Instead I head into
the class area and take my seat, this time further towards the back. I wasn’t
lying, there are far more women here this time, and I have no doubt that it’s
because the women from the first class—who are all here—told their
friends about the smoking hot substitute teacher.
The brunette sits in the front row again, with a shirt that’s noticeably
more revealing than what she wore last time. I feel a pang of nervousness.
She’s gorgeous, and right there in the front row. I just made out with him
and turned him on. What if he sees what she’s wearing and decides he likes
it? Should I move up there?
I don’t have a chance to decide, because Philip walks into the class, and
there’s a collective gasp from all the women in the room—especially the
new ones. There’s practically cheers as he turns around to work on flipping
through the easel and illustrations. He knows what he’s doing too, because
when he turns he looks straight at me and winks. The women around me
sigh, thinking he might be winking at them, but I know it’s for me.
 I can hear the whispers around me now, and I’m regretting sitting in the
back of the class. There are comments on everything, from how hot he is to
how great his ass looks. How they want to practice this class on him and let
him lick every inch of their bodies. As Philip teaches, their words sink
under my skin. Christa said he’d been with his fair share of women. I’m not
stupid, I know what that means, and I know that having some fun for the
last couple of days doesn’t make us exclusive. And there is a room full of
willing women here ready to fuck him the second he even hints at yes.
Plus, he’s smooth. He’s so smooth, so practiced, so charming. I saw that
last time, and I see it again. Suddenly I wonder if I’ve been wrong, that he’s
a player after all. It’s possible that I’ve made a huge mistake. My gut
bubbles with anxiety, and I feel the urge to leave the class—it would be
easy enough since I’m at the back. But if I leave, he might follow me. I
don’t want that kind of scene.
I’m over reacting. I know I am, but these past couple of days don’t erase
the last month. I don’t know what to think. I’m too distracted in my swirl of
thoughts to pay attention to his words. But I watch him. I watch him as he
sneaks glances at me, sharing faces and subtle expressions when someone
else is asking a question. He winks a couple more times. He doesn’t flirt
with anyone but me. Somehow that makes me even more nervous. If I was
wrong—if he’s a player, he could be playing me really well. He could be
stringing me along until he gets what he wants from me and then I’ll be left
broken and vulnerable again.
Before I know it, the class is over. There’s wild applause that is almost
laughable, and Philip takes a little bow. I fight down my unease. I’m
making something out of nothing. Or am I? I feel a little sick, the two
thoughts chasing each other in circles inside me. Just like before, I hang
back. I said later, and I’ll give him that chance. I could be getting in my
own way, or my subconscious could be trying to warn me. After the last
hour I don’t know what to think.
The brunette from the first row sidles up to Philip, wrapping him in a
hug and giving him a kiss on the cheek. When she pulls away, Philip
glances down at her breasts which are spilling out of her top. She slips him
a piece of paper, and he smiles that brilliant smile. They laugh together, and
my stomach plummets. I can’t watch this. I can’t stand to watch what I
hoped he was unravel in front of me. I push through the curtains at the back
of the classroom, ducking through the crowd of people still milling through
the store. Someone near the door shoves a flyer in my hand for future
classes. I barely manage to say thank you before pushing out of the store
and into the open air.
I can breathe a little better out here, but my chest is tight with anxiety
and worry and the fear that I did exactly what I said I wouldn’t—jumped
into bed with someone exactly like Bryan. I need some time. I need to get
out of here. So many people came to the class today that I had to park a few
blocks away. I head in that direction, trying to focus on my breathing and
telling myself that everything is fine. I haven’t had a panic attack in a long
time, but I’m almost there.
I’m halfway to my car when I stop dead in the middle of the sidewalk.
There, coming out of a restaurant, is the last person I expected to see. It’s
Bryan.
My muscles lock down, and I’m not sure what to do. That’s not true, I
should turn around and walk away, but I’m rooted to the spot. Then it gets
worse, because he looks up and sees me. I think all the blood in me drains
to my toes. I’m not ready for this, I’m not ready to stand in front of him.
But I don’t have a choice, because he’s coming over to me. Sick dread pools
in my stomach with every step that he takes towards me.
“Mayra,” he says, looking confused. “I’m surprised to see you in this
part of town.”
I swallow, “Yeah, I had…an appointment.”
“Did you follow me here?” He laughs after he says it, like he’s joking,
but I know that laugh and I know he’s not.
“No,” I say. “I’m just leaving now, going to my car.”
He looks down at my hands, and I do too, and I realize I’m holding the
neon pink flyer for all the sex classes. The Pleasure Chest logo is plastered
on the front, and the font would be big enough to read from space. A cruel
smile comes onto Bryan’s face. “I’m guessing your ‘appointment’ was one
of those bogus classes they offer at that store. You might as well give that
up now. A class won’t be able to fix you.”
Anger surges through me, and I straighten my spine. “You’re full of
shit, Bryan,” I say. “First, whether I take a class for my own enjoyment is
none of your business, and second, I don’t ‘suck at sucking.’” I use my
fingers to punctuate his own words. “I don’t suck at anything sexual. If you
think that, it’s your problem.”
 The words feel good, and I realize that I actually believe them. I never
thought I was as bad at everything as he claimed, but I didn’t have the
confidence to say it.
Bryan looks a little shocked, like the last thing he expected was for me
to contradict what he’d decided about me. Then, his eyes narrow, that all
pretense of friendliness disappearing. “You think you can disagree with me?
I’ve had more sex than you, Mayra. I’ve had better sex than you. I think
I’m the one in a position to say whether or not you’re good and bed.” He
laughs, the sound dark and sinister. “I can’t believe you would even try to
tell me I’m wrong about this. But then again, you always were a dumb
slut.”
The words hit me in the gut like a physical blow, and I take a step back,
all the confidence I had disappearing. I feel like a hole has opened up under
me, and I’m falling even though I’m standing still.
Bryan doesn’t stop. “But I suppose you’re too stupid to even know that.
I’ll tell you what, I’m feeling generous today. If you ask me very nicely—
maybe on your knees—I’ll take you back to my place. That class won’t
teach you anything, but my new girlfriend will be able to show you a few
tricks. Things that even someone as hopeless as you will be able to use.”
I’m looking down at the sidewalk, wishing it would swallow me whole
when someone walks past me. I think that the only thing that would make
this more humiliating is someone witnessing it—and then I stop because I
realize that the person is Philip, and that he has Bryan by the shirt up
against the wall of the restaurant. I feel my jaw drop open, ironically
matching the expression on Bryan’s face.
I hear Philip’s voice, and it’s like I’ve never heard it before—deadly and
quiet, like black satin in the dead of night. It’s a voice that lets me know
without a doubt that he’s seen battle. “You must be Bryan,” he says. “You
want to stop talking now, and you want to walk away. Once you walk away,
never contact Mayra again. Am I clear?”
Bryan shoves Philip off him. “Who the fuck are you man? You think
you can just walk into my business and tell me what to do? I’ll talk to her
any time I want, and she’ll listen to me. I’m the best thing that ever
happened to that whore. I ought to kick your ass for putting your nose
where it doesn’t belong.”
For a second, Philip doesn’t move. And then, a smile comes onto his
face. Where Bryan’s smile can be cruel, Philip’s can be terrifying. I’m
happy I’m not on the receiving end of it, and there’s a significant part of me
that’s jumping for joy that Bryan is going to get what’s coming to him. It all
happens so fast I can barely see it. Philip grabs Bryan’s arm, twisting it
behind him and shoving him face first into the wall. Bryan is struggling, but
he’s not going anywhere—I know just how strong Philip is. Bryan is almost
crying, his shoulder dislocating.
Still with that smile, Philip starts to speak. “Apologize. Now. Or you
won’t have a jaw to keep running your mouth with.”
“I’m sorry, geeze.”
Philip drags him off the wall and shoves him away. Bryan stumbles,
barely catching himself as he massages arm. He looks between Philip and
me. “You’re fucking crazy, man. Have her. She’s not nearly good enough
for me.”
Philip takes a step towards him, and Bryan takes off, sprinting down the
sidewalk away from us. He doesn’t stop running until we can’t see him
anymore. As soon as he disappears, all the tension disappears from Philip’s
body. He comes to me, pulls me into his arms, and I let him. “Are you all
right?” he asks.
I wrap my arms around his waist, letting the warmth of his body seep
into mine. Tilting my face up, I make it clear what I want, and Philip kisses
me. I explore his mouth with my tongue, showing him just how all right I
am thanks to him. “Thank you,” I say, when he pulls away, “That was
great.”
He smiles. “My pleasure.”
Now that Bryan is gone and I’m panicking less, the reason I left the
class in the first place comes back to me. I extricate myself from his arms.
“I have to ask why you’re here, though.”
A flash of hurt crosses his features. “I’m here because I came after you.
You disappeared after class again, I might add. I’m not sure what you mean,
why wouldn’t I be here with you?”
“I saw…” I bite my lip, embarrassed that I’m even going to say it. “I
saw that gorgeous brunette give you her number. We’ve only been hanging
out for a couple of days…I thought you might want to go home with her
tonight.”
He laughs. “She did give me her number. And she suggested some very
creative ways she wanted to practice the class on me. I told her no.”
“She was smiling an awful lot for someone who was rejected.”
 “Come here,” he says, tugging me back into him. He kisses me softly. I
feel it all the way to my core, my body responding to the honesty in his
kiss. Every part of me aches with the need for more of that, for more of
him. “When I told her I was seeing someone else, that girl smiled and told
me that girl was very, very lucky.”
I barely give him a chance to finish his sentence before I kiss him again,
hard and deep. He returns the favor, and I feel like this kiss could fuse us
together. My stomach is swooping and soaring and I don’t ever want it to
end. We’re pressed up against the wall of the restaurant and I don’t know
how we got there. His hands are in my hair and my hands are under his
shirt. His tongue is driving into me the same way I want his cock to drive
into me.
“Wow,” I say, when we come up for air.
“I’m holding you to your promise,” he says, tugging me down the
sidewalk towards the shop and his car. He smirks at me. “It’s a pity we
won’t have these classes to see each other, since Christa will be back
teaching in no time.”
“That’s fine with me,” I laugh, “especially since you tell me I don’t
need any lessons.”
He gets into the car and grabs my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm.
“The only lessons I’m interested in giving now are private ones.” Lacing
our fingers together, he starts the car. “So, my place or yours?”
 EPILOGUE
PHILIP

Seven Months Later

Valentine’s Day

“Can I take this blindfold off now?”

I chuckle. “The answer is the same as the last five times you asked. I’ll
tell you when you can.”
She sighs, and I glance over at her. She’s naked except for the blindfold,
and she’s about to have something else on her. I place the tray on the
bedside table, and sit down beside her. “On our first date, I said there was
something I really wanted to do. Do you remember what it was?”
Her face scrunches up under the blindfold as she thinks. “No?”
“I’m not surprised, we only talked about it for a second.” I dip my
finger in the melted chocolate I’ve placed in a few bowls, and I touch my
finger to her lips. “Taste.”
I feel her tongue flick against my finger and she gasps. “Chocolate. You
said you wanted me covered in chocolate.”
“And you said you wanted to lick it off my cock.”
Mayra licks her lips, and my already hard cock starts to ache at the
sight. “You can take your blindfold off.” She pulls it off, taking in the
different colors of chocolate I’ve put together, her grin from ear to ear. I
take another finger of chocolate—white this time, and smooth it over her
nipple. “I’m going to paint you in chocolate,” I say.
 “Don’t think you’re getting out of this clean,” she says, painting a line
of dark chocolate down my chest.
I paint white chocolate flowers on her nipples, dark chocolate swirls on
her collar bones. She puts abstract designs across my stomach, a dripping
handprint over my heart. When we’re both almost covered in chocolate, I
start my masterpiece. I use the darkest chocolate I have, slowly drawing a
word on her chest—backward. I write three more, trailing down between
her breasts and down onto her stomach.
“You need to look in the mirror,” I tell her.
She licks some chocolate off her fingers. “Like this?”
“Like this.”
She stands up, crossing the bedroom to the full-length mirror and
examining the message on her body. I can see in the mirror that I’ve done a
good job. The words Will You Marry Me clearly standing out against the
rest of the designs. She whips around towards me. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” I say.
Her face breaks into the widest smile I’ve ever seen, and I catch her as
she tackles me back onto the bed. Our kisses taste of chocolate, and
something deeper. “Yes,” she says, sucking the chocolate from my lips.
“Yes, absolutely.”
“There’s a ring in the dining room,” I say. “I didn’t want it covered in
chocolate.”
She grins. “I support that decision.”
I flip her over onto the bed. “You look just as amazing as I thought you
would,” I say. “I’d actually say you look edible.” My mouth finds her
nipple, and I clean the chocolate from her skin. Once her nipple is clean, I
lick her everywhere. She moans as I taste her skin, trying to lead me down
between her legs. It works. I push her legs apart, pressing a finger inside her
as my mouth drops onto her clit. She’s soaking wet, and the pure taste of
her mixes with the chocolate in a powerful, incredible flavor. I would stay
here forever if I could.
I push a second finger into her pussy, curling my fingers upward to find
that rough spot. I find it, feeling her body jump under me as I stroke my
fingers across it. I want her to come, and quickly. I have plans for her today,
and I plan on her coming as many times as I can make her. I fuck her pussy,
hitting that spot with my fingers as I graze my teeth along her swollen clit.
She shudders as I suck it back between my lips, my mouth flooding with
more of her taste.
I’m reaching for a condom when she stops me. “Wait.” In a flash, she’s
in front of me, hands covered in chocolate, spreading it over my cock.
“Remember what I said?”
My mouth is dry. “I can’t forget.”
I really haven’t been able to. The idea that she would suck chocolate off
my cock has been a regular feature in my fantasies for months. She spreads
herself out on the bed, just putting her head off the edge. Her mouth is open,
and she catches a drop of chocolate that falls from the tip of me. I push my
cock into her mouth, and she groans. In the months we’ve been dating,
she’s only improved with her oral skills. She likes this position because she
can take more of me, and I oblige. I press my cock deeper, feeling the tip
touch her throat.
She sucks me as I pull back, licking chocolate as she goes, and it goes
pretty high on the ‘hottest things I’ve ever seen’ list. I push back in,
thrusting deeper. I don’t want to come yet, but damn if I can keep myself
out of her mouth when it feels this good. I give her a chance to take a breath
before I plunge back in, fucking her mouth with quick, deep strokes. Mayra
reaches her hands around my ass, drawing me in closer, forcing me deeper,
and I groan. I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like her. And now
she’s going to be mine forever. A burst of happiness and completeness so
deep runs through me, and I come without warning.
She seals her mouth around my cock, and I can’t breathe. The orgasm
feels like it’s been pulled from my toes. It goes deep, blasting through
nerves I wasn’t even aware I had. I slip out of Mayra’s mouth, and I’m still
half-delirious with pleasure as I watch her dip a finger in chocolate, adding
it into her mouth before she swallows. “Fuck,” I say. “That was—”
I don’t have the words for it. I don’t think I ever will.
One look up and down her body—chocolate smudged and pussy
glistening—is all it takes for me to be completely hard again. I slip on my
condom, flipping her over on the bed and entering her in one stroke. She
cries out, and I love the sound. She’s gotten so much louder as we’ve been
together, and every time she moans it sends pleasure sizzling straight to my
balls. I lean down against her, my entire chest against her back, my legs
touching hers, my lips on the back of her neck.
 I feel her relax, go pliant underneath me as she feels my body surround
her. My cock is too hard to take my time, and I thrust into her, pounding a
wild rhythm. Mayra is making the sounds I love, breathy little moans every
time I thrust, and it drives me to fuck her harder. I reach around underneath
her, teasing her clit, and am rewarded with a yelp and her body jerking
underneath me. I smile against the skin of her neck, kissing her there.
She stops me for a moment, turning over so we can see each other’s
faces. I don’t waste time, fitting myself to her and thrusting in. I will never
get tired of fucking her. I love her body. I love the way her tits bounce as I
enter her, I love the way her cunt squeezes me when she comes, I love the
way her hair tangles in the sheets when she arches her back. Mayra gasps,
and then she lets out a long low moan. Her face tightens as she comes, and I
watch the little muscles in her stomach and thighs spasm as her orgasm flies
through her. I’m not far behind her. I fuck her hard and fast, and when I
come it’s on the edge of pleasure and pain. I say her name as I bury myself
in her, letting my cock savor the tightness of her.
“God, I love you,” I tell her.
She smiles, her eyes closed. “I love you too.”
I lick the skin between her breasts and the chocolate that is left there.
The way her body is relaxing, I can tell she’s going to sleep. I’d love
nothing more than to let her sleep in my arms, but first things first. “Let’s
shower.”
“Later.”
I laugh. “As delicious as this is, I’m not sure you want the stickiness
later.”
Her eyes open slowly, and she nods. “That true. It’s clearly why I’m
marrying you. You’re the voice of reason.”
The smile on my face feels like it’s going to break it open. “I’ll be
whatever you need me to be.”
Mayra kisses me, and that same deep feeling of contentment washes
over me. This is perfect. She’s perfect.
Suddenly she pulls away, mischief in her eyes. “Last one to the shower
comes last!” she says, springing off the bed and racing for the bathroom,
leaving chocolate footprints in the hall. I grin, waiting to follow her. I’m
still aiming for a new record, and if I’m going to hit it today, I’ll gladly
come last.
I can’t stop smiling as I follow her.
 THE END

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