Page 24 of Just for the Plot
“Chili pepper?”
“Ugh, sorry,” I say, placing my hand on his forearm. “I’m forgetting that you’re all new to this. Chili peppers are what the book world uses to ratethe level of spice they’re into. Now, this is extremely controversial and many have various levels of spice, but I think in general, I’d say one chili pepper is that there is some hints toward sex and maybe some fondling, but when it gets to the action, it’s closed door. Meaning, you don’t see anything from there. And then it climbs. Two would be a full sex scene but nothing explicit. Three would be full sex scenes, explicit and creative. Four would be dragging some kink into the picture, and five, well, that’s where bloody hand jobs come in.”
He drags his hand over his jaw, the sound of his palm against his scruff igniting excitement in me. I love that sound.
“Uh…what do you like?”
“I’m a three–four kind of girl. I like some kink, but the five chili peppers terrifies me sometimes, even though I’ve dabbled in it and enjoyed.”
He slowly nods. “And you’re not a one or two kind of girl?”
“Every one or two that I’ve read I’ve enjoyed. There is nothing wrong with a one or two, great stories, just the perfect sprinkle of goodness, but I have found that they make me incredibly horny, so I tend to reach for a three or four, not to say that I wouldn’t ever go back to a one or a two, though.”
His eyes widen, which makes me chuckle. “Uh, really?”
“Yeah, it’s like getting edged but never finding completion. I need coming in my books. I need full-on penetration right in front of my eyes. I need to see her feel his dick pounding into her uterus.”
He blinks a few times and then chuckles before wiping his hand over his face. “Never, uh…never thought I’d hear those words come out of your mouth.”
“What?” I shrug. “We’re adults now. It’s not like I’m talking to you like this as the sixteen-year-old I first met. You’re what…twenty-uh…”
“Twenty-four,” he says.
“Ugh.” I clutch my chest. “So young.”
“Not that young.”
“Young enough for me to second-guess the sentence I just said to you.”
“You say that as if I’ve never made a woman feel my dick pound into her uterus.”
Uh, pardon me as I pick my jaw up off the ground, because what?
“Bennett,” I practically squeal. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you just said that.”
A waiter brings us both another beer that we take.
“Why not?”
“Maybe because you’re my best friend’s little brother and you don’t ever talk like that.”
“I guess you haven’t been asking the right questions.”
“I guess not.” Taking a sip of my drink, I shift in my seat and then ask, “So, do you have a lot of hookups?”
He shrugs. “I wouldn’t say a lot, but I’m not a virgin.”
“Yeah, I know, Gabby told me when you had your first girlfriend. She was freaking out and we went out and bought condoms together so you didn’t get anyone pregnant.”
He rolls his eyes. “You bought me a year’s worth.”
“And you’re welcome for that. Shows how much confidence we had in your sexual prowess.”
“Too much.”
I laugh. “So what are you looking for? Who fits the criteria for you to take someone home?”
He scratches the back of his neck and shrugs as he slouches in the couch next to me, legs slightly spread in that man way, looking all kinds of dark and mysterious under the brim of his hat.
