Page 68 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“Just wait. Once you have had sex a couple of times, you will find out what pushes you over the edge. Because as much as men like to think that pounding into you with their stiff rod does the trick, it’s so much more than that. You have to rub a lady in the right way.”
“Head, shoulders, knees, and toes. Right, Delaney?” I asked with a smirk.
“Yup, laugh all you want. Just wait, Rosie. After the initial massacre of a man taking your vagina to pleasure town, you’ll find out what you like, and you will rely on that. You know this?” Delaney asked while sticking her finger through a hole she made with her other hand. “That is called a man’s best friend but to us ladies, it’s just some simple penetration, nothing to fawn over. What we like is a little rub on our clits.”
“Wait”—I stopped Delaney for a second—“so when a guy enters you, it’s not pleasurable? Everything I’ve read begs to differ.”
“I’m not saying it doesn’t feel good, and yes, I’ve climaxed from penetration alone, but if you want that toe-curling orgasm, there has to be some clit action involved. Or if the guy can reach your G- spot, now that, that’s an orgasm. Mmm, just thinking about it has me hot.”
Derk perked up as he eyed Delaney up and down while placing his hand on her back. “Is that right, babe?”
“Yeah, maybe we can go to the bedroom?”
“Hello, I’m right here,” I offered. But as usual, they ignored me, tossed their crusts in the box, and took off toward her bedroom, leaving me once again by myself.
“Figures,” I said, boxing up the pizza and sticking it in the fridge. I should have expected that to happen. It was rare when Delaney and Derk weren’t hanging out in her bedroom, getting it on.
Just like old times, when both my roommates were out on dates, I grabbed my laptop and sat on my bed. I logged onto my dating account and saw there was a message. Praying it was from Greg and not some random guy, I opened it up.
Luckily, it was from Greg and there was a green circle next to his name. I had no clue what that meant but I started to read his message when an instant message box pulled up on my computer.
Greg:Hey beautiful. I was hoping to catch you on here tonight.
I shouldn’t be affected by him calling me beautiful—he probably called his sister beautiful—but I couldn’t help but feel giddy about it.
Rosie:Hi, I didn’t know this thing had instant messenger.
Greg:Me either until a lonely old man messaged me, looking for companionship. I thought it was nice until he sent me a picture of his wrinkled nipples, asking if the mole on them seemed to be cancerous.
Rosie:No, he did not.
Greg:He did. To say that I’ll be hitting the gym more often is an understatement. Seeing old-man boobs will do that to you.
Rosie:Do you go to the gym now?
Greg:I want to impress you and say all the time, I practically live there, but I think if we ever meet, you would know that’s a lie. I’m fit, but I’m no means a bodybuilder.
I could see he was fit from his pictures. There was even a shirtless picture of him and he was cut in all the right places, but like he said, not a bodybuilder.
Rosie:I don’t know; you seemed so bulky and manly in your pictures.
Greg:I’m reading that as sarcasm. Would I be right?
Rosie:Not at all?
Greg:Total sarcasm, but I will live with it. Tell me, Rosie Bloom, what did you have for dinner tonight?
Rosie:Pizza with my roommates.
Greg:Pizza? My favorite meal. Where did you get it from? Wait, let me guess. Was it deep dish, regular, or thin crust?
Rosie:Regular.
Greg:Light sauce, or heavy? What about the cheese, was it on top of the toppings or under?
Rosie:Light sauce and the toppings were under the cheese.
Greg:Bingo! Boriellos.
