Page 159 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“Gah. No, nope, don’t like that,” I shouted, pulling away but trapped in his leg wall.
“Well, you wanted it.”
“The books all say go past the slit, straight to the clit, for a number-one hit.”
Henry rocked his hips, aiding in the end goal. “Like I said, this isn’t one of your books. This is real life. What works for some people, might not work for others.”
“Don’t get mad at me.” I mirrored his frustration.
“I’m not.” His voice rose, turning me on a little.
“Yes, you are.” I pushed his chest, creating a look of shock on his face.
“Did you just push me?”
“I did . . . you . . . you naughty boy.” I bit my lip, wondering if I was going too far. “You liked that, didn’t you? You want to be spanked, you want Mistress Rosie to spank that cock.”
His hips stilled for a brief moment. He leaned forward slightly, and said, “What are you doing?”
“Shut up before I slap that handsome face of yours. Now, give it to me . . . big boy. Give it to me hard.” I flicked his nipple, drawing another shocked expression from him. “Don’t just sit there. Move.”
Confused, he thrust his hips.
“That’s it. Just like that. Keep going. Now moan for me, show me how much you like to plunge your sword inside of me.”
“What? Rosie—”
“Mistress Rosie,” I said, swatting his nipple causing him to fly forward and cry out.
“You liked that?” He groaned some more, moving rapidly under me. “Oh, you did, you naughty little nipple boy. Big daddy wants his nipples massaged? Let Mistress Rosie see those nipples.”
“No . . . off,” he squeaked out.
“You’re not wiggling out of this that easily.” He groaned some more, tipping me back and forth as his hands reached behind me. I tried to push him back to grant him some more nipple time, but he wouldn’t budge. “If you’re going to be a naughty nipple boy, you can’t hide those areolas forever.”
“Get. Off.” He shoved me to the side. I fell off the bed and onto the nightstand, causing the bedside lamp to tumble onto the floor and the bulb to shatter across the ground.
I felt more like a human bowling ball rather than a sex temptress with an imaginary flogger.
Scrambling around to cover my naked body, I went to grab one of Henry’s shirts, but I saw Sir Licks-a-Lot crouched on top of it, bunched under his pelvis, where he was slowly humping it. I went to grab the shirt, but he hissed at me and continued to shove the shirt against his undercarriage, excreting a carnal meow.
Looking for a pillow, I turned to face Henry, only to find him wailing on the bed, holding his calf in the air and screaming about some kind of horrific pain. I studied him closer, a partially limp penis flying about and the big toe on the leg he was holding sticking straight up in the air, as if someone was electrocuting it.
His toe was more of a boner than the eggplant between his legs.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated over and over again, breathing heavily, still holding on to his calf while he rocked back and forth.
“What is going on?” I asked, finally realizing he was in pain and not necessarily disgusted with me.
“Fucking charley horse,” he huffed out.
Charley horse. How did you cure a charley horse? Put your tongue on the roof of your mouth? No, that was for an ice cream headache. Chew a pack of gum? No, that was for popping ears. He was supposed to eat something. I wracked my brain, looking for a solution to end the pain Henry was going through and then it clicked . . .
Potassium.
Without even thinking, I ran to the kitchen, boobs flinging side to side, ripped a banana off a bunch on top of the counter, tore the peel off, and ran toward Henry, phallic-shaped fruit in hand. But instead of handing it to him, I tripped over an empty beer bottle, fell forward, and slammed the banana right in his face, shoving pasty yellow fruit straight up his nose.
Horrified, I brought my hand to my mouth and stared in shock at Henry, who had half a banana shoved up his nose.
