Out of Breath (Exposed Series Book 2) (6 page)

“God Kate, you’re so sexy,” he said. “I want you so bad.”

“I want you inside me,” I said softy enough that I could deny it
if he laughed.

He reached down to rub the outside of my underwear with his
fingers. “I want to be inside you.”

“But for more than two seconds this time,” I said, trying to
speak in the same sexy voice.

He stopped moving his hand. “What?”

“Nothing?”

“What did you just say?”

“Nevermind.”

“Seriously. What did you say? About two seconds?” The dim light from
the bedside table gave away the disappointment in his face.

Fuck. I knew I couldn’t take it back. What I didn’t know was how
he could be so surprised. “I was just hoping this time, maybe you could try to
last a little longer.”

The silence in the room swallowed me up like the bed was a huge
sinkhole.

“Don’t stop,” I said, finally. “That felt good.”

He started to move his hand against me again, and I rocked my
hips towards him. I was eager for him to feel my wetness and forget what I’d
said.

I reached down, pulled my underwear off, and threw it on the floor.
Then I reached for his dick, discovering that it wasn’t hard just before he
swatted my hand away. 

“Get hard for me,” I whispered, knowing it was all my fault.

Before I could do or say anything else, he knelt over me, took
his dick in his hand, and started to stroke himself. It felt like I was
watching something secret, something I wasn’t supposed to see, but he seemed
relaxed. He even let his head fall back for a second.

It wasn’t until he looked down at me again and started stroking
himself even faster that I got scared. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take my
eyes off the aggressive way he was pumping his cock. It was so different from
how I would’ve done it. Rougher. Angrier.

Then he walked forward on his knees until he was masturbating
right over my face. Suddenly, I knew exactly how many balls were in the game.
And I wasn’t comfortable anymore. Not with the way he was yanking his dick over
me and not with the darkening look in his eyes.

I realized if somebody walked in and saw me in that position, I
would've been mortified. Which made me think maybe I shouldn’t be doing this?
Maybe this is wrong. It felt wrong.

And as I went from frightened to embarrassed to pissed off, I
realized it wasn’t too late.

I didn’t have to do what he wanted. I didn’t have to do something
that would make me feel dirty and bad about myself.

“Stop,” I said.

But he kept jerking himself right above my face.

“Stop!” I said louder, pressing my clenched fists against the
bed.

But he just ignored me and kept pointing his dick at my mouth.

Finally, I used all my strength to push him off of me, bolted
along the trail of my clothes towards the door, and didn’t look back.

I was patting the bacon with a paper towel when she appeared in
the kitchen doorway. One side of her hair was scrunched up just above her ear
as if she’d been doing breakdancing head spins on the spot all night.

“Morning,” I said.

She fell against the doorframe and pulled my spare robe around
her. Her eyes were still puffy from the night before.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

She twitched as if she wanted to shrug, but didn’t have the energy.

“Better than you look I hope?” I offered her a smile. “Have a
seat.”

She dragged a chair away from the table and slumped into it like
a heap of laundry.

“You’ll feel better after you eat something,” I said as I laid
her poached eggs on buttered toast.

Her first words were hoarse. “Smells good.”

I laughed. “It speaks!”

Her dark eyes smiled briefly when I put her plate down in front
of her.

I wanted to be cheerful without overdoing it. The jury was still
out on how hung over she was.

“So we’re doing that thing where we have a hearty breakfast so
we don’t feel like eating everything in sight by 11 o’clock.”

She nodded.

Even though she was used to my food commentary, I knew how
pervasive food stress was to young girls with eating disorders. There was no
way I could talk about food more than she was thinking about it. Of course, I
knew better than to expect her to give me any verbal feedback.

“I know bacon is fatty, but it’s Saturday, right? So we can live
a little.”

She lifted a piece of crispy bacon and cracked the end off in
her mouth.

“And I poached the eggs in the microwave which is one of my
favorite healthy tricks. So they’re totally guilt free.”

She put salt and pepper on the eggs and then used her fork to
poke the first yolk.

“See? Nice and runny.” I took my teabag out and laid it at the
edge of my plate where it pooled in its own brown juice. “Plus, eggs are great
if you have a hangover.”

Her eyes flashed up at me.

“Oh I’m sorry? Are we pretending you didn’t get hammered last
night?”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not. But you don’t need to apologize. As long as you’re
not an idiot about it, you should be allowed to have a few drinks.” I snapped a
piece of bacon in half. “Not eight. Maybe not ten. Probably about half as many
as you had before you went to the party.”

She raised her eyebrows at me. “Thanks for picking me up.” She cut
a piece of bread and stacked some egg on top of it.

“You’re welcome,” I said, reaching for the pepper. “But you want
to know the truth?”

She sighed. “Does it matter?”

“I don’t care why you were drinking last night.” I swapped the
pepper for the salt. “But I do care about why you cried yourself to sleep.”

She froze, holding her bite halfway between her plate and her
mouth. A pink flush appeared on her pale cheeks. “I was just really drunk.”

I shook my head. “I’m no stranger to a good drunken cry, Kate.
That’s not what happened last night. You didn’t say anything all the way home,
and then as soon as you went in your room you started sobbing.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

I cocked my head at her.

“It was just boy stuff.”

“Boy stuff?”

“I was just mad at a boy.”

“A boyfriend?”

“No.”

“A friend’s boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Do I have to keep guessing?”

She exhaled. “You won’t say anything?”

“No,” I said. “And for the record, I have plenty of my own
problems to worry about. I’m only asking because maybe I can help or maybe I’ve
had the same problem before.”

She pursed her lips. “He’s just this guy I sometimes…” She
dragged her fork through a pool of yolk.

“Hook up with?”

She nodded.

“Okay,” I said, trying to stay objective so I wouldn’t ask for the
boy’s name and address and go kill him myself.

“Last night he wanted to do something I didn’t want to do.”

“Something you weren’t comfortable with?”

“Yeah. That’s why I was crying.” She lifted her fork towards her
mouth. “Cause I was pissed at him.”

“Did he try to stick it in your butt?”

The look of horror on her face was priceless. “No! What the
fuck?! Sorry. No. He did not try to stick it in my butt.” Then she laughed for
a second and shook her head.

I felt a bit better having lightened the mood. “So did you do
whatever the thing was that he wanted to do?”

“No.”

“Well that’s good isn’t it?”

She shrugged.

“You should never do anything you don’t want to do, Kate. Not
when it comes to sex.”

Her eyes flashed when I said the ‘S’ word.

“And anyone who genuinely cares about you will never ask you to
do something you aren’t comfortable with. Do you understand?”

“I know.”

“But you should be proud of yourself for not giving into peer
pressure. You’re the only one who can look out for you so you have to stick up
for yourself.”

“I did.”

“Good.”

She picked up her toast and ripped a corner off with her teeth.

“I’m sure your boyfriend-”

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye.

“Sorry- friend that’s a boy. I’m sure he understands.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t.”

“Then there’s a good chance he doesn’t care about you as much as
you think he does, as much as you want him to, or as much as you deserve.”

She swallowed her toast.

I kept quiet and wondered if she was going to say anything else.

“I have this friend-”

Oh here we go.

“And she’s dating this guy. He’s in college.” She looked up at
me and then back down at her plate.

I pretended to be interested in my breakfast, too, though my
appetite had been off lately.

“And things are really great with him, I guess.”

“Bedroom things?”

She nodded.

“And you want that?”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t everybody?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Everybody does.” 

“So?”

“So what?”

“Don’t you have some advice or something?”

A smile spread across my face. “Sure.” I reached for my tea and
took a sip. “You said your friend is supposedly having great sex with this guy,
right?”

She pulled a foot up onto her chair and rested her chin on her
knee.

“So that means at least one of three things is going on.”

She nodded and pushed some hair out of her eyes.

I counted the things out on my fingers. “Number one: he’s great
in bed. Number 2: she knows what she likes. And/or number 3: they really care
about each other.”

“Go on. I’m listening.”

“Okay. So number one. If he’s good in bed, it’s probably because
he has experience with other women who have taught him a thing or two. Because,
despite what guys your age think, watching a lot of porn doesn’t make you good
in bed.”

Her eyes grew wider than they’d been all morning.

“Number 2: she knows what she likes.”

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, how does she know what she likes?”

I furrowed my brow. “She masturbates.”

“No she doesn’t.”

“Have you talked about it with her?”

“Of course not.”

“So you don’t know.”

She pursed her lips. “I guess not.”

“Look, masturbation is totally normal and healthy, and it isn’t
just for young men. To be honest, it’s probably even more important for young
women.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s harder to figure out how we work and masturbating
is the best way to learn.”

She looked unconvinced.

“It’s just common sense, Kate. Think about it. How could you
possibly expect a guy to make you feel good if
you
don’t know what makes
you feel good?”

Her eyes drifted up to the corner of the room.

“I bet every guy at your school knows exactly what he likes.”

She wrinkled her nose.  

“Cause they’ve done plenty of personal research.”

“Okay, I get the point.” She pulled her other knee up and hugged
her shins. “And number 3?”

“If your friend and her boyfriend are having good sex, they probably
genuinely care about each other.”

“Maybe.”

“Which is the most important one of all.”

“Why?”

“Well, if a guy is great in bed
and
you care about each
other, he’s going to want to put in the extra effort to make you feel good. And
if you know what you like
and
you care about each other, you’ll feel
comfortable helping him understand how to make you feel good.”

“And what if he’s just great in bed? That’s not enough?”

I took a sip of tea so I wouldn’t laugh. “It would be enough for
him, but probably not for you. You know all those stories about virgins getting
deflowered by sexual prodigies who give them multiple orgasms the first time they
get together?”

She shrugged.

“Well, that’s a lot of bullshit.”

She tilted her head away from me.

“Trust me. That is not how most women learn about sex.”