Page 127 of Revenge Puck
Blaire laughs. “So, you’ve never done it. This isn’t the end of the world. Plenty of women would never.”
I push out an embarrassed laugh.
“And by the way—if you don’t want to blow him, Juliette, then you don’t. You do not owe this man anything.”
“I know.”
She studies me through the screen. “But do you want to?”
“Yes?” I whisper. “Yes.”
Blaire lets out a low whistle. “Well, well, well. Look at you, baby girl wants to give a blowie.”
“Stop.”
“I’m saying—if you want to, that’s hot. If you don’t, that’s also hot. But don’t do it because you think you’resupposedto.”
My phone buzzes on my desk.
Aaron.
Of course it is.
Aaron: You went quiet.
Aaron: Did I scare you off?
I stare at the screen, debating my reply. Do I say something daring and dirty or change the subject?
Shit.
“Is that him? Did he text you? I heard buzzing,” Blaire asks, immediately sensing the spiral. “What did he say?”
“He asked if he scared me off.”
“If you want this man obsessed, say something ballsy.”
My blood pressure skyrockets at the thought.
“This is what you text him.” She hums, deep in thought. “‘I don’t scare easily. I was imagining what you’d feel like in my mouth.’”
My eyes widen. “Absolutely not!”
“Absolutely yes.”
I type it.
Delete it.
“Oh my god,” Blaire groans. “Watching this is painful.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. And you should. Spice this shit up!”
She’s right.
Which is the worst part.
