Page 157 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
Feeling a little randy after losing your virginity to the hottest man on the planet felt like a natural hunger, but wanting to hump his face off the minute he walked through the door? That must be something different, but what?
I wondered if I’d unlocked some kind of pent-up, sexual sycophant, preying on best friends from college. That was how I felt, like I was preying on Henry every chance I got.
When he was in the shower, washing soap off his body, I was peeking past the curtain to watch the water drop down his body—hence the “jacking off” earlier. When he was sleeping, my hands always found his penis, and for some reason started to rub it. One night, I was humping his flaccid penis until he woke up and realized his horny girlfriend was trying to guide his log down the river of crazypants. When he got home from work, I couldn’t help but grab his tie and start attacking his mouth with mine. And don’t get me started when he was in the kitchen cooking. I usually ended up on the counter, trying some kind of insane act I read from one of my books, which normally didn’t go as planned. Note to everyone out there: trying to make a sundae on a naked body doesn’t really work unless the person you’re making it on is a frigid dead body.
The need for him was overwhelming, so I wondered if I should see the lady doctor. A strong libido was one thing, but ripping your pants off and spreading your legs every time your boyfriend walked into the apartment, as if you’d been in some kind of Pavlov experiment, that wasn’t normal.
“Do you realize your hips are rubbing against my leg right now?” Henry whispered in my ear, breaking my thoughts.
I looked down to see one of my legs was over Henry’s lap and my hips were slowly rubbing up and down his thigh.
“Oh, sorry.” I nervously laughed.
“No need to be sorry.” He kissed my head again, but continued to watch the movie. Usually, if I started to get turned on, he would do something about it. Why wasn’t he now?
Meg Ryan was fake orgasming on screen, turning me on even more, so I turned to face Henry forcing him to look me in the eyes. He looked past my head for a second to watch the screen before turning his attention to me. “What’s up, love? Don’t you want to watch the movie?”
“Why aren’t you trying to take advantage of me right now?” I placed my hand on my hip, a little insulted that he kept peeking past me to view the screen.
He sighed and said, “Just a long day at work, Rosie.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that this week. You’ve never complained about work. What’s going on?”
I studied him carefully and wondered why he averted his eyes away from me and answered, “Nothing to worry about.”
“That was the same response you gave me earlier. If you’re going to bring work home and let it affect our night, then I have the right to know what’s bothering you.”
“How am I affecting our night? Because I won’t have sex with you right now? Jesus, Rosie, I had sex with you twice this morning and just ate you out twenty minutes ago. How much more do you want?”
Taken aback by his tone, I sat up and pulled away from him. I knew he immediately regretted what he said because he tried to wrap his arm back around me, but I didn’t let him.
“I didn’t know I was bothering you with wanting you. I thought men liked it when their women came on to them. I won’t do it again.” I crossed my arms and sat on the opposite end of the couch. I was being a complete brat, but I didn’t care; he’d hurt my feelings, and frankly, I didn’t know how else to react.Should I be affronted? Was I being too needy? Clingy?
Instead of “chasing” after me like I thought he would, he huffed out his frustration, went to the kitchen, grabbed another beer, and then sat back down on his side of the couch, ignoring me completely.
A foreign emotion started to settle in, an emotion I’d never felt before. Rejection, it hurt, BIG TIME.
Tears watered in my eyes and my throat began to clog with the pent-up embarrassment and anger I felt. This was so stupid. I was angry and hurt because my boyfriend didn’t want to have sex with me for the fourth time in one day? What kind of sex-crazed lunatic was I?
Not letting Henry see my tears, I grabbed my phone off the coffee table and sent Delaney a text.
Rosie:Why am I so horny?
A lone tear fell as I sent the text message.What was wrong with me?The movie played in the background while I waited for Delaney to text back. It felt like an hour before she replied to me, when in fact it was only a few minutes.
Delaney:Why would you even ask me that question? I have no clue. Maybe because you’ve suppressed yourself from the penis for twenty plus years and now that you’ve had it shoved up your hole you can’t get enough?
That was a possibility, but did people really go this crazy after sex?
Rosie:I want to hump his face every chance I get.
Delaney:He’s that good at going down? Huh, I would have thought he was more of a pumper rather than an eater.
Rosie:I don’t know what that means, but he’s good at everything.
Delaney:Pumper, as in he’s good at placing his pastry bag inside your donut hole and moving it in and out until you’re completely glazed. If you don’t know what an eater is, then we can’t be friends.
Rosie:Oh, well, he’s good at everything, like really good. Like there hasn’t been a time that I haven’t orgasmed.
