Page 193 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
Storming into the bathroom, I peeled off my clothes and pinned his naked body against the bathroom wall. Instead of telling me he was tired or shooing me away, he switched positions with me, brought my hands above my head, and kissed me like he couldn’t get enough.I’ve missed this. Neededthis.I melted into the wall as his lips explored mine and his erection pressed against my thigh. Already thick and needy.
Talk about mood swings . . . you would think the man was going through some kind of hormonal change.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” he whispered across my skin.
Hurt me? When had he ever said anything like that?
“You never hurt me,” I answered back, loving the way his mouth felt against my breasts.
He ran his mouth down to below my belly button, releasing my hands and kneeling before me. “No penetration tonight, just in case.”
“Just in case what?” I asked, gripping the wall, so I didn’t fall over from need.
“Just in case.” And then he spread my legs and pressed his mouth against my very wet and needy slit.
His weird comment left me as I fell into a euphoric state of pleasure from his magic tongue. Who knew one muscle on a human’s body could bring this much pleasure?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Meerkats, Pads, and Yetis
ROSIE
“That dress is perfect, Rosie. You have to get it. Henry will die when he sees you in it.”
“You think?” I asked, checking out my reflection in the mirror. The dress was black and tight, clinging to every inch of my body. It wasn’t something I would normally wear, something Lucille Ball would never even consider. That was how I judged my apparel . . . if Lucille Ball would wear it, then so would I. But desperate times called for desperate measures in this case. “I need a better bra to wear with this dress, though.” I stared at my flattened boobs in disgust.
“Yes, well, one would think you wouldn’t wear a sports bra when going to pick out a dress, but you do prove norms wrong,” Delaney said.
I felt my boobs and rubbed them in a circular pattern. “They’ve been super sore lately. A bra with underwire didn’t seem appealing. I have a strapless bra with a front clasp that will work, though, super heavy underwire in it. With that, I really think I can get some lift with these puppies.” I pulled up my boobs, but cringed when they ached in my hands.
Boobs weren’t supposed to ache in my hands; they were supposed to ache with need for Henry’s hands.
“I’m sure you have a great bra. If you’re going to get that dress, you better get it now. Don’t you have that date with Wolf Shirt Wendy?”
I checked the time on my phone and squeaked. “Ah, I’m going to be late.” I shut the dressing room door, took the dress off as quickly as possible, and put on my outfit for the day . . . yoga pants again. I did some Pinterest searches recently and found cute ways to dress up yoga pants and leggings. Who knew scarves could make you look fancy?
My workout routine didn’t feel like it was doing anything. I went to many spin classes with Delaney, and all it did was eat up my vagina . . . and not in a good way. I thought my crotch was sore before, but I didn’t think I could even sit without a pad on if I wanted to.
Yes, I’d started wearing a pad every day to protect my area from hard benches and wooden chairs. That was why I’d started doing Pinterest research. I wound up making an entire board full of ways to look cute in leggings. And yes . . . they were pants.
I tossed the dress at Delaney when I exited the dressing room and said, “Purchase that for me. I’ll pay you back.”
“You better. I’m saving my money for the stripper. I plan on showering him with ones, especially if he has big balls like I expect.”
I zipped up my boots and adjusted my scarf. “You promise that dress is good? You don’t think the fabric is too thin? It felt a little thin for a dress that’s so tight.”
“It’s perfect. I will pick you up some Spanx so they provide an extra layer under the dress.”
“Get me a large,” I called out, while waving and taking off toward the exit.
I was meeting Wolf Shirt Wendy at the Park Hyatt across from Central Park. She had a surprise for me; I just hoped she hadn’t invited me to some freaky sex party.
If I was honest, I was also very nervous. I’d finished my book the other day and sent her the last chapter. She was going to give me feedback, and after the last critique I had, I felt like I was going to throw up.
Since the hotel was only a couple blocks away, I hoofed it across the streets of New York City, bumping into strangers as I tried to text Henry. It was a Saturday, and once again, he was at work. He was working so much that Sir Licks-a-Lot had started to whine at night; it was a real treat while writing, having a horrible screech ring through your ears every minute.Not.
He’d said to give him one week, but I didn’t think I could. He hadn’t touched me, apart from when he’d gone down on me before his shower. He wouldn’t even let me touch him. I tried not to let it bother me. I tried to convince myself that it was okay he needed a week . . . for God knows what. That I could make it through a week. But . . . I needed him. And not just sexually. I realized when I was getting dressed earlier that I also really missed my best friend. I was alone every day, and now every night as well.Why bother leaving the apartment we’d all shared when I was going to be alone anyway?That was the most persistent thought that banged away in my head daily. Henry wasn’t just not coming home each night. He wasn’t coming home to me.And that really hurt.
