Page 220 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“She was a hot mess,” Rosie answered. She set her things down in the entryway and walked toward me, a little sway in her hips, and I wondered what she was up to. “The party was good, although I’ll be happy to never see a penis again.”
I raised an eyebrow at her and she laughed.
“I mean a penis prop, or party favor. Real-life penises, I’m good with.”
“There better be only one real-life penis you’re interested in viewing.”
“Sir Licks-a-Lots?”
At the sound of his name, he perked up.
“I love you, Rosie, but that was disturbing.”
“Yeah, I heard it after I said it.” Right in the living room, she lifted her tunic over her head and tossed it to the side. She stood there in a pair of leggings and her bra. Her pants were pulled up and over her stomach, but even in the dim light of the living room, I could tell she was showing. No wonder her pants didn’t fit the other day. My heart broke for her. Did she know and she wasn’t telling me?
She had to know . . . right?
It was Rosie. . . she was very naïve when it came to a lot of things in real life. I doubted she knew. Hell, she still went to the gym and was trying to watch what she ate, but she didn’t fool me, I caught her many nights, passed out with a package of Oreos on her stomach when I got home from working late.
“Are you ready to get naughty?” she asked, shaking her hips side to side.
“Uh, what are you talking about?” I removed Sir Licks-a-Lot from my lap and set him to the side.
“Don’t you remember our text messaging earlier, Mr. Grey?” She licked her finger—not in a sexy way, but in afull coat of saliva on the fingerway—and rubbed it down the front of her chest, stopping right before her cute little pregnant belly. From the lights in the living room, I saw the trail of spit she’d left on her skin. Not the best thing I’d ever seen. Saliva wasn’t very sexy.
“Aren’t you tired?” I asked. “Must have been hard being a host to a plethora of drunk women tossing dicks around.”
She yawned, but covered it up quick by placing her hands over her face and then doing a peek-a-boo like motion, giving me air kisses through her hands. I wanted to laugh . . . a chuckle was sitting at the base of my throat, willing itself to come out, but I tamped that shit down. Laughing while she was trying to be sexy was not a good idea, especially in her state.
“Come on, big man, let’s go to the bedroom.” She quirked her finger at me, trying to draw me into her weird erotic world.
“Rosie . . .”
“Come on, jump on it.” She set up in a galloping position, whacked her ass, and went off into the bedroom.
Christ.
Sir Licks-a-Lot gave me a sideways look, and I shrugged my shoulders. If I didn’t follow her into the bedroom, she’d have a meltdown, but I was still too nervous to do anything sexually with her.
Yes, I was that guy. I knew my dick wasn’t going to bust open her cervix. I wasn’t the men she read about in her books, but I also wanted to talk to a doctor about our situation before I started digging around in there, especially since she thought her vagina was purple.
I was taking some precautionary measures. Did I miss being inside her? More than anything, but I felt like things had been so crazy lately, I just wanted to take a deep breath, propose to her, and then go from there.
“Oh, Heeennnrrry,” she started, “I’m needing some attention in here.”
I took a deep breath, gathered my thoughts, and walked into the bedroom, where I found Rosie struggling to pull off her leggings. She looked behind her to find me approaching her.
“Oops, I didn’t expect you to come right away.” She giggled nervously. “These leggings seem to have found a home on my legs. They don’t want to come off.” She shifted from leg to leg, trying to pull them down.
The struggle was real. She tried to put a sexy flair on it, but all she ended up doing was falling over on the bed, ass up in the air.
“Ooof. Damn you,” she muttered into the mattress.
The girl had persistence.
Finally, with the finesse of a drunken man, she removed the leggings and then stood up, one hand on her hip and the other trying to find a position comfortable for her. She held her stomach for a second, but then switched to holding one of her breasts.
“Sit on the bed,” she demanded, catching her balance from her awkward movements.
