Page 72 of Stroked Hard
“No, with anyone. Ever.” Eyeing the bowl, Reese asks, “Can I have ice cream now?”
Deflated, I push the bowl toward him and tell him to finish it.
I knew she didn’t want to be in a relationship, but for her to confirm it to Paisley, that doesn’t settle well with me. Telling a girlfriend is very different to “fobbing me off.”
Okay, so she doesn’t do relationships, but there has to be a reason. Did some jackass cheat on her? I find that hard to believe given how gorgeous, smart, and strong she is, but guys can be dicks.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Reese asks, ice cream dripping in his beard.
“I just don’t get it. Why does she not want a relationship? She’s the first woman I’ve ever come across that’s been so incredibly against romance, love, and relationships. There has to be something I’m not seeing.”
Reese settles back in his chair, ice cream still left in the bowl. I’m slightly surprised, as I thought he was going to take the whole thing down. “Dude, you know I’m always honest with you. I like Melony a lot, I think she’s a cool chick, but I don’t know if she’s worth your time. I don’t think she’s changing her mind. If you were any other guy, I would say have some fun. But I know you. You become attached and I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“It’s too fucking late,” I huff out. “I’m already attached. Shit.” Running my hands over my face, I try to come up with some sort of explanation but nothing comes to mind. “You know, it would be so much easier to toss in the towel with her if her eyes weren’t so expressive.”
“What do you mean? Do you think she likes you?”
“I do.” I nod. “I just think she’s too stubborn and scared to give in to what she’s feeling. We have moments where she hands over her trust, where she melts into me and those moments, fuck, they are perfect. But that’s all they are, moments. They are quickly washed away once her brain kicks in. There is something blocking her from going all in.” Getting up, I grab my sunglasses and phone off the table and push my chair in. “And I’m going to fucking find out what it is.”
I take off toward the door as I hear Reese call out, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for the check just like every other time.”
Chapter Sixteen
MELONY
Hollis: Sorry about my phone call last night. Hope I didn’t wake you, just had a shitty sleep and it would have been nice to hear your voice.
Hollis: For future references, maybe you can change your voicemail so Mrs. Robot doesn’t tell me to leave a message but instead your beautiful voice does.
Hollis: I saw a cloud in the sky today that I swear looked like a penis going into a vagina. It made me think of you . . . you know, when you dry-humped me in your entryway.
Hollis: Remember the time I made you come just from touching your perfect little tit?
Hollis: I do. I can still hear your sexy moan. Now if only I knew how wet you were that night.
Hollis: Don’t want to talk about our sexual encounters? Okay, how about the time I pumped my cock in front of you. From the look in your eyes, I know you wanted your lips on my dick. Oh wait, was that sexual? Shit.
Hollis: I tripped over a barbell in the weight room today and fell face first into a stack of towels. I wished it was your breasts that caught me instead.
Hollis: Is it weird that I eat spinach and ketchup together?
Hollis: Did you watch Rollin’ in the Bacon last night? I didn’t but Holly keeps talking about how absurd Bellini is. I fear for your life. Please keep my baby safe.
Hollis: Silent treatment, I like it. Maybe I can silence you with my cock sometime soon.
Hollis: Don’t do relationships, huh? Why? What happened?
Hollis: My guess, someone hurt you and you’re too scared to put yourself out there again. Am I right?
Hollis: One thing you need to know about me, Melony, I’m the real thing. I don’t fuck around and I sure as shit don’t plan on ever leaving you alone, so you can either talk to me or we can continue to play this cat and mouse game. I know you like me, I know you want me, so it’s time we stop fucking around and we have a conversation.
It’s time we have a conversation . . .
Those words keep playing over and over in my head as my mom coos about what a great time she’s having being pampered. The nail salon we went to was having a special on manis and pedis. Kind of like a buy one get one free, so of course we indulged.
Because I’m a glutton for punishment, while my toes are being painted and finished up, I scroll through the countless texts Hollis has sent me over the last few days. I’ve read them over and over but never reply. Some of them make the cold exterior I’ve placed around my heart melt just slightly, and some turn me into a rabid beast needing release from the sexual frustration I’m feeling.
But the last ones . . . those terrify me.
