Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Three dots come and go.
Aaron: A night of cuddles after the game is what the doctor ordered.
I smile again, pleased, the warm fuzzies settling into my gut, replacing the icky feelings my brother had given me.
Juliette: Is that your official diagnosis, Doctor Bishop?
Aaron: I’m writing a prescription of that thing I do with my tongue…
Heat floods my face so fast I have to stop walking.
Aaron: I’ll be remembering your moans tonight when I’m slamming someone into the boards.
I exhale slowly, pulse racing when another text comes through.
Juliette: I was mad enough to cry in public five minutes ago.
Aaron: And now?
I hesitate.
Juliette: Now I’m thinking about your giant hands.
Aaron: Which part of your body do you want them on tonight when I see you?
Juliette: All over
Aaron: Nope. You have to be specific
Juliette: My boobs.
Aaron: Love those
Aaron: Where else?
Juliette: Between my thighs…
Aaron: What about my mouth?
Juliette: Don’t start.
Aaron: Do you know how much I love it that you’re so prissy on the outside—and yet I’ve had you on top, fucking me, that dirty little mouth of yours…
Juliette: I do NOT have a dirty mouth.
Aaron: No, but sometimes I wish you did LOL
How do I interpret that?
Juliette: What does that mean?
Aaron: Nothing, babe ;)
Juliette: Does that entail my mouth SAYING dirty things, or DOING dirty things?
Aaron: Yes to all the above.
Oh.
Oh…
I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, flipping to the rideshare app to request a ride, lifting one hand to my face to check the heat of my cheeks.
Flaming hot.
Is he talking about… blow jobs?
Like, he wants me to suck his dick?
The rideshare pulls up before I can spiral any further. I slide into the backseat and immediately stare out the window like I’m contemplating major life decisions instead of replaying Aaron’s text over and over and over again.
Your mouth doing dirty things…
By the time we hit downtown, my brain has run through every possible interpretation.
Innocent.
Flirty.
Filthy.
* * *
I make a beeline for my cubicle, wasting no time before powering up my laptop and FaceTiming Blaire.
“Of course he wants you to suck his dick,” she announces with authority, hair in a claw clip, oversized blue light glasses sliding down her nose, clearly working from home. “What hot-blooded man doesn’t want his pole waxed?”
“Lower your voice!” I hiss.
“Relax,” she deadpans. “No one can hear me.”
“I just—” I glance around even though no one is paying attention, my heart racing. “He didn’t say it outright.”
“He doesn’t have to,” she replies. “Men are not complicated.”
I sink back in my chair. “That feels like an oversimplification.”
“Fine.” She sighs dramatically. “Smoking hot, confident professional athlete hints about your dirty mouth and you’re confused about what he means?”
When she puts it like that…
I drop my face into the palm of my hands. “This is a nightmare.”
Blaire bursts out laughing and takes a long, obnoxious chug from her giant pink water bottle. “It’s really very simple.”
I peek at her through my fingers. “Maybe for you. But I’ve never…”
She freezes mid-sip. Slowly lowers the bottle. “You’ve never what?”
I groan. “Please don’t make me say it.”
“Juliette Kennedy. How did I not know this? How have I known you for over a decade and did not know you’ve never had your mouth on a man’s junk?”
“Because you say things like ‘man’s junk’!”
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’re supposed to.”
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.
I type again before I lose my courage.
Juliette: You didn’t scare me. I was picturing what you’d feel like in my mouth.
I hit send before I can overthink it, internally screaming when the message whooshes into cyber space.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…