Wet (6 page)

“ASU is a university in Arizona, it’s AUL, and I’ll take you if it’s what you really want but you’ve got to tell me first what happened.”

Her expression gets dark. “He called me a slut,” she whispers.

My head jerks toward her. “What?”

“Scott, that guy from Tinder, called me a slut and a whore.”

There’s an explosion in my chest. It’s fury weighted with the gut-kick that I didn’t protect her from the very thing I feared.

“When did he call you that?” My fingers curl into fists.

“During the sex.” She looks at me wide-eyed and in that moment she looks like a little girl. “He pulled my hair hard, and told me I was a dirty whore . . . that he couldn’t believe he was fucking such a nasty slut.”

I have to focus on breathing so I don’t explode. “What did you do?”

“I just laid there stunned. And when it was over he couldn’t stop talking about how friggin’ great it was.”

“Damn,” I say shaking my head.

She curls up tighter. “I just wanted to feel sexy and independent. Like those girls on those racy cable shows.”

I inch over closer to her and when she doesn’t flinch I slide my arm over her shoulder. When she leans into me I pull her closer.

“Oh, Elle. Those girls are fictional characters and that guy is a fucker. You know he didn’t mean that, right? That’s what gets him off . . . it’s not you.”

She leans into me but remains silent.

“When did you have sex with him?”

“A couple of nights ago, and still I can’t get over what he called me . . . all of those awful things. I’m just so angry with myself for not following my instincts when we first hooked up. Yes, I want hot sex but being told I’m a trashy whore feels abusive, not sexy.”

“Have you talked to him since then?”

She shakes her head. “No. He’s left me a few messages to hook up again but I haven’t responded.”

“You want me to tell him to fuck off?”

Her eyes widen. “You’d do that?”

“Sure I’ll do it. He won’t bug you again.” I crack my knuckles as I think of pounding his face in, even though I won’t have the chance to do more than threaten him on the phone.

She drops her head against my shoulder. “You’re really something Paul. Thank you for offering but I’m going to have to do it. I need to stand up for myself, but it means a lot that you want to help.”

“Okay. Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

She wipes her tears away again and sits up straight.

“You know I never thought being a modern woman who embraces her sexuality would be so difficult. Why can’t I enjoy this side of me without being made to feel bad about it?”

“You shouldn’t feel bad about being true to yourself,” I agree.

“Before I got married I used to underplay that side of myself because I wanted to be noted for my intelligence and abilities but look where that got me. It feels like finding a man who embraces my sexual side while still respecting me may be impossible.”

I rub my palms over my knees. “When it comes to sex, men think with their cocks. And we all know cocks are defiant assholes and have minds of their own.”

“Is your cock like that?”

“Well he sure as hell used to be. It’s taken two years of meetings for him to understand that I’m the boss now.”

“What if I never find a man that wants what I want?”

“You will, Elle. You just haven’t looked in the right place yet.”

She smiles at me. “Hey, I forgot to tell you. Your mom called and invited me to dinner.”

I scowl inwardly. “Yeah, she mentioned she might.”

“She was talking up your brother, Paddy. What’s that all about?”

“She has a second career, my mom.”

“Which would be . . .”

“Matchmaker.”

“Ooo. She’s setting me up with your brother? Is he hot like you?”

I have to choke back a laugh. “Well, we’re pretty different. He’s an accountant and he’s four years older than me.”

She scrunches up her nose. “An accountant? That’s not nearly as sexy as a landscape architect.”

“And sprinkler man,” I tease.

She pushes me on my shoulder. “Is he addicted to sex too?”

Embarrassed I look down. “Ah no, . . . He doesn’t share my affliction apparently.”

“Okay . . . so he isn’t as hot as you, he’s an accountant, and he isn’t hot for sex. So why do I want to date him?”

“To make my parents happy.”

“Ha! Your parents! Do you want me to come? I’ll come if
you
want me to.”

“Don’t do me any favors. Besides, you’ll have to deal with my sister, Trisha. She’s a mouthy firefighter married to a florist. It’s like a bad sitcom.”

“Will her husband be there?”

“He usually doesn’t come. He uses the excuse that he’s working but I think he’s scared of my dad who’s convinced he’s gay.”

“Just because he’s a florist?”

“My dad’s really old school. I’m hoping he’ll ease up if they ever have kids.”

She breaks her first smile since I found her on the couch. “Oh, I’ve got to come now. I’m so curious.”

I’m picturing Elle in her high-heel sandals and bare legs for miles. When my mom gets one look at her it’ll be the last invite for our family dinner. Ma is looking for breeders for her boys, not hot babes.

“Okay then. Just remember that I warned you.” I give her shoulder a squeeze and then scoot to the edge of the couch. “I better go.”

“If you must,” she says.

I glance down at the coffee table and something catches my eye. There’s a short stack of books and the top one’s cover intrigues me. Its title is in bold red letters:
Broken
, and the picture is of a pissed off guy with tattoos and no shirt on.

I pick it up to examine it more closely.

“What’s this?” I ask.

She tucks her face into her folded arm and groans before mumbling something.

“What was that?”

“It’s a book I just read.”

“What kind of book is this?” I wonder aloud as I study it.

“A romance.” Her cheeks are pink and she looks away.

“What the hell kind of romance is this? This dude looks like he’s going to beat the shit out of someone. Is it a gangbanger romance?”

She giggles softly. “No. It’s an erotic romance.”

“Well seriously? What’s romantic about this? Shouldn’t there be a girl in a low cut pirate dress about to kiss this guy? I remember my mom having some of those in the house.”

She grins. “Pirate dress?”

“You know what I mean. The kind that’s low cut with laces and her tits busting out. If she were on the cover I bet this dude would be a lot less pissed off.”

I reach for the next book in the pile. This one has a guy in a suit with his head cropped off and it’s called,
Deal or Die
. “Is this a romance, too?” I ask, not hiding the disbelief in my voice.

“It is indeed.”

I flip through the pages. “Is there a lot of sex in these books?”

“Does the sun shine?”

“Is it hot?”

“I thought it was.” She pulls
Deal or Die
out of my hands. “I burned out two sets of batteries on this book, but I doubt that will happen again.”

Oh damn, picturing Elle burning out batteries with a vibrator between her legs will require a long shower for me tonight. “Why’s that?”

“He talks dirty to her a lot.” She glances down to where she’s twisting her fingers together.

“What kind of dirty?”

“He calls her a slut and a whore.”

“I see. And when you read that you thought it was hot?”

“I did . . .”

“But it’s a lot different when you’re the one being called a slut?”

She nods and her eyes tear up again.

I slide back against the cushion of the couch so that our shoulders are touching.

“We’ve talked a lot in my group about watching porn vs. reality. It’s easy to get desensitized as to what is good for you and the woman you’re with and what isn’t.”

She sighs. “Sex can be confusing.”

“Mind-blowing and amazing, but yes, confusing too.” I flip through the rest of the pile. “Hey can I read one of these?”

“Why would you want to?”

“Maybe to understand what makes the female fantasy psyche work.”

“Are you sure?” She sounds nervous.

They must really be dirty. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

She grabs the pile and sorts through it. “Here, read this one.”

“
Torched
?”

“It’s so hot.”

“Seriously? I mean with the flames in this picture it looks like his head’s on fire so I guess that’s hot.”

“Well,
I
think the story is hot.” She gives me a demure smile.

“Okay. That’s good enough for me.” I turn the book over in my hands a few times. “I better get going.”

“Hey, Paul Junior?”

“Yes, Ms. Jacoby?”

“If you ever decide to be a man-whore again will you have sex with me?”

I kiss the top of her head. “You’ll be first on my list.”

This time, as I lift off the couch and say good-bye, her smile is genuine.

That night I climb into bed and crack open
Torched
. I’m not even to the end of the first chapter when the main dude, Luke, is fucking this Lucia chick in the back of his parent’s tasting room at their vineyard.

I shudder at the dialogue and descriptions—throbbing clits, massive cocks and all the wetness. It all starts with the guy ripping her panties off. Have you ever tried to rip off a pair of panties? It’s not like they just pull apart. Those things are sewn to stay together, and I gave a girl a skin burn once trying to yank off that lacey shit.

But the best are the orgasms on command. “Come!” he commands. And she does.

I roll my eyes.
Right.
If only . . .

I close my eyes and imagine I’m hearing the buzz of Elle’s vibrator as she reads, dropping the book on her bed to circle her nipples while the vibrator gets her off. Now that’s my kind of erotica. I sigh as I grip my hard cock. It’s going to be a really long night.

The next evening the phone rings just as I’m finishing off my second scotch and watching the game.

I glance at the screen.
Damn.

It’s her.
Elle
, with a capital E.

The girl that kept me up late last night jerking off. I’ve got a little buzz going from my couple of drinks and talking to her right now is risky.

I clear my throat and try to push my dirty thoughts aside. “What’s up, Elle?”

“Hi, Paul,” she says in that breathy voice.

I’m already getting hard again.
Damn.

“I just wanted to let you know that thanks to you I’m feeling so much better today.”

“That’s great,” I say, impressed with how much better she sounds. “And what brought that on?”

“I was thinking about what we talked about . . .”

I can’t resist the impulse to fill in all the blanks of what she wants to tell me . . .
and the dirty book I gave you to read
. . .

“And it occurred to me,” she says earnestly.

. . . how much I want you, Paul . . .

But when she finishes her thoughts it’s nothing like what I thought she would say.

“Why should I let one bad apple spoil the whole bunch?”

I sit straight up
. What the hell? Can we hit rewind?

When I reply my voice is louder than intended. “Did you really just say that one bad apple shit? My mother used to tell me that. Have you ever considered that the whole bunch on Tinder could be bad apples?”

“You’re so funny!”

“I’m not joking,” I say.

“Seriously Paul, I’ve decided to throw myself back into the game.”

“But Tinder’s not really a game, Elle . . . it’s more like the mosh pit. What if you get head butted again?”

“I’ve realized the mistake I made. This time I’m going to spell it out to the dude before we get to the sexing.”

“Spell it out, huh?”

“Yeah, no weird stuff like latex or furry suits. No demeaning talk or behavior. No bondage. No threesomes.”

“Or foursomes?” I ask.

“Ewww, no!” she says.

“Are you trying to make me feel bad?”

“What? No, why?”

“I told you about my foursome.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot about that. That was when you were a man-whore.”

“Yes, thanks, although I prefer the term ‘sex fiend’.”

“Well . . . that’s still what you told me.”

“I did. So see, I’m the very guy you wouldn’t want to sleep with.”

“Ummm.”

“Yet, you pretty much asked me to screw you when we met. Do you see how complicated this is?”

“Can I ask you something, Paul?”

“Sure, why not? You know so much about me already.”

“Did you do men too back during your sex fiend days?”

I almost drop the phone. “Sex with dudes? No! Why would you ask that?”

“So your orgy was really just you and a bunch of women. Did you have a harem or something?”

“I could have.”

She huffs into the phone. “Oh really? A harem? What if you’re making all this stuff up? Why should I believe you and all your big talk?”

“If you don’t believe me, I don’t care. It doesn’t change anything.”

“What if you made up all those sexy stories . . . like that you were addicted to sex. What if you’re really more like your accountant brother?”