20. Jeanie
20 /
jeanie
Mouth Attachments
South Beach’s shops and vibrant restaurant scene are shutting down for the night. Busboys stack tables and chairs. The famous neon signage flickers off. A few couples stroll hand in hand. Some disappear into the darkness of the isolated beach as palm fronds rustle in the warm breeze.
“What did you think of the show?” Nathan asks as we stroll down Ocean Drive.
“I’m not sure what’s more impressive, the Juilliard-level dancing or that you painted a wolf on your chest with glow-in-the-dark paint for the finale.” While mostly naked.
Nathan works his tongue over a triple-decker ice cream cone. I should be savoring my one scoop, but I’m focused on the way his tongue aggressively wraps around the melting cream.
“It’s all about branding.” He taps the baseball hat on my head. A wolf paw print is embroidered on the cap.
“Did you go to school for dance? ”
“Marketing. My grandmother is a dance instructor. I grew up helping run her studio and teaching the kids. I still go in to help from time to time. In fact, I was just there.”
My heart clenches as I imagine this hulk of a man teaching tiny ballerinas. He’s got a soft spot.
“How did you go from teaching to stripping?”
“A mean boss fired me from my lucrative Italian beef-stand job in college. My grandmother depended on me to help keep things afloat. We got in a serious bind, and I needed quick cash. So, I started stripping.”
“Roman’s responsible for your decent into debauchery?” I joke.
“I still hold a grudge.”
“I couldn’t tell.” I laugh. A full picture of Nathan is forming. I point. “You’re losing your ice cream.”
He quickly licks the massive drip.
I stop in my tracks to observe as he systematically saves all the drips in such a precise way, my mind blanks.
“You okay?” he asks.
“What? Yeah.” I quickly recover with a shake of my head.
Somewhere along the way, I became distracted. As if Nathan is a car speeding down the dark road, and I’m a baby deer and about to get plowed.
Being plowed by Nathan in a good way flashes before my eyes. A grin creeps over my lips.
“After experiencing your fandom tonight, Sophia’s bachelorette party job seems beneath you,” I say, getting back on track .
“I did it as a favor for my agent, Natasha. The timing worked out with the Miami show.”
“Right. Am I the only woman in existence who didn’t know who you are?” I glance over, still trying to place his face.
“What I do is very niche. Though, when we met in the elevator, I thought you dropped your towel on purpose.”
“And I thought that moment couldn’t be more embarrassing.”
“When Roman showed up, I started to piece things together. You were a wreck.”
“He has a way of doing that to me.” I chuckle darkly.
“Why?”
We toss our wrappers into the trash as I consider my answer.
“I’ve spent a lifetime trying to make him happy, and I guess it’s difficult to turn off.” As I say the words I start to realize my attachment to Roman is deeply flawed.
“I like that you didn’t know me. It’s nice to be normal,” Nathan says.
“This is normal?” I wave a hand between us.
“If you don’t count the fake relationship, the wedding sabotage, and the triple-X but charming way we met—sure,” he teases.
I roll my eyes. “And the glaring ridiculousness of you ever dating me.”
Nathan places a hand on my arm, and we stop. He tucks a wayward lock of hair behind my ear, like some romantic lead in a movie that isn’t real life. A graze of his fingertip over my cheekbone shouldn’t leave a trail of heat, but it does. My shoulders tremble, and I lower my gaze.
“Look at me.” He brackets my jaw with one hand like he’s done many times and tips my head back until our eyes are level. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and if you were mine, I’d never let you go.”
My heart stalls.
Nathan’s hand slides down my arm until his fingers lock with mine. Inside my palm, his thumb draws lazy circles.
“Are you sure he’s worth it?” Nathan asks.
“I ... I ...” I glance away and swallow a painful lump. This question scrambles my brain. It would be easy to lie, but when pressed, the truth always seems to find its way to the surface. “You ... you make me unsure.”
My breath hitching, I watch in disbelief as he lifts my hand until it meets his lips. Tenderly, they press onto the base of my fingers.
The immediate and unexpected connection of his mouth on my body while we’re alone causes lightning to race up my arm and drop like a rock through my center, landing squarely in my vagina. The traitor pulses there, dancing like a stripper until I’m off-balance.
“Let me know when you decide.” He pins me with a devilish gaze, waiting for an invitation.
A few hours ago, I was imagining this in my mind. And now, somehow, it’s real.
All is silent in the taxi to the hotel, but the sexual tension between us is so tight, it plucks like a cord. The vibration fills the space, surrounding us. I came with the intention of breaking up a wedding and stealing the groom, but now I’m considering a diversion—a Nathan diversion.
I think of my mother. She goes through men like a catalog, choosing who will make her happy that day.
I peek at Nathan.
He rolls down the back window, allowing the tropical breeze inside. His hair blows. The glow from passing streetlights highlights the planes of his face. His dark eyes brighten when they glance at me. He takes my hand, somehow completely confident in whatever’s going on between us. He owns every moment, no questions asked.
I’ve been chiding myself for drooling over him, but what if I set aside my fear and do what my heart wants, even for one night?
That music of tension builds into a crescendo as it follows us down the hall to my room.
Our room .
I stop at the door, becoming nervous. I turn to his chest to say something but give up and turn back to open the door. Inside, the light pops on, and I stop in my tracks.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I had a cot sent up, so I’d have a place to sleep.”
He slips off his sweatshirt. When he does, the T-shirt lifts to reveal his abs.
This shouldn’t leave me so jittery. I’ve seen his body several times, but the mystery of touching him in that way , when it’s not a show, remains.
“It’s a king-size bed. I think we can sleep in it and be good.” I wave at its grand size. The cot looks like it’s made for a toddler.
“Maybe I don’t want to be good.” His pecs are still smeared with paint. Tiny neon-blue globs stick to his chest hair like he’s some kind of artistic masterpiece.
“Bobo will sleep between us.” I scoop up the blow-up doll, looking for some way to get closer to Nathan, but not too close.
A safe close. If there is such a thing.
“That’s not Bobo, that’s me,” Nathan says with a laugh.
“What?” Initially, I’m confused. But when I see the resemblance, my jaw falls slack. The face and the body look eerily familiar to Nathan.
“I don’t believe you,” I say, regardless of the evidence.
“Check his left butt cheek,” he says, grinning.
I turn Bobo over and wade beneath the clothing. On his butt is Nathan’s logo, a wolf paw print. I squint to read the printed tagline.
“This Wolf will make your pussy roar.” I release a pop of a laugh.
When Nathan said he had merchandise, I thought he meant hats and T-shirts, not an anatomically correct ...
Hold on .
I glance toward the blow-up doll’s pine-tree-patterned boxer briefs and roll my lips inward. Heat paints my face and rushes to the tips of my ears .
I think I need air.
“This is no ordinary blow-up doll.” Nathan takes it. “Do you know what this mouth is for?”
“Kissing?” I stare at the strange silicone-molded lips.
Nathan flips a switch somewhere on the body, activating what sounds like a mini vacuum.
“Is that ... suction?” My brows pinch.
“This guy will suck your clit.”
Shocked, I drop my purse on the floor.
He laughs and looks around the room. “Where are the mouth attachments?”
Mouth what?
“I don’t even know where this doll came from.”
But that’s not true. I suspect it came from an online mega-store via two-hour delivery, along with all the other random items in the room.
After the fact, I found an email asking to verify a slew of purchases, which of course I had done at some point, presumably in an alcohol-induced haze. I still don’t remember anything from that night.
“You haven’t used them yet?” He looks suspicious.
“He’s my sleeping partner.”
I snatch Bobo back to cuddle like a teddy bear. Since Roman left, I haven’t slept well, but with Bobo warming the bed beside me these last few nights, things have changed.
“No judgment.” Grinning, Nathan holds up his palms and steps back.
As I’m trying to explain myself, he heads to the bathroom, still laughing because he doesn’t believe me. Thankfully, he shuts the door, ending my embarrassment.
When the shower turns on, I scramble to find the “mouth attachments.” It’s not long before I discover a wooden box, branded with a Wolf Savage logo. Inside are several, um, interesting items.
Is that a tongue?
I pick up the attachment and stare. It’s the exact shape of Nathan’s tongue molded in silicone. I recognize it from this evening’s ice-cream-cone-licking incident.
Dear God.
Next, I open a long velvet pouch and dump the contents into my hand. A fleshy dildo falls out, complete with balls. The shock of its realistic qualities makes me drop it on the tile floor. I jump back to save my toes from being crushed by its hefty size and weight.
The shower water shuts off, and my head snaps toward the bathroom door.
Instinctively, I kick the dildo across the room like a soccer ball, and it bounces and rolls underneath the bed. In panic mode, I slam the box closed, snatch the dick from the floor, and race around the room to find a hiding spot.
The bathroom door opens the exact moment I slide the box under my pillow.
Nathan appears in nothing but sleep shorts while rubbing a towel over his wet hair. “You okay?” He pauses in the middle of the room after assessing my frenzied state.
I’m paralyzed in a strange stance, my brain still considering the box of sex toys. Nathan’s silicon tongue probably vibrates. His penis!
I nod too enthusiastically.
“Okay ...” He draws out the word, sounding skeptical.
“I’m going to get ready for bed.” I take two steps and reconsider. “This side of the bed is mine,” I say robotically.
“Territorial. I like it.” He hangs his towel on a hook.
I rush to pick up my night clothes and hide in the bathroom.
After dressing, I pace the small room to calm my nerves. Everything is moving very fast. I’m excited and on edge at the same time. Antsy, I sit on the closed toilet seat and then stand to stare at the door, knowing Nathan waits on the other side.
When an acceptable amount of time spent in a bathroom has passed, I inhale deeply and rise, ready to face my fears. Nothing has to happen. I open the door and step through.
My steps falter when I find a bare-chested Nathan in bed reading a book. He’s wearing nerdy black-rimmed glasses and his hair falls forward, partially covering his face. The darkness of the room accentuates his golden tan.
On my newly formulated hotness scale, he hits peak numbers. Not so much for the way he looks, though that’s a major selling point, but because of the intimacy of the private moment.
Bobo the blow-up Wolf Savage, who I’ve now renamed Mini-Wolf, sits beside him. At the center of the bed, he’ll be acting as a barrier wall between us as we sleep.
If I can sleep. I hold my breath for several seconds.
Nathan removes his glasses and scans my outfit. “You’re sending intense 1970s vibes with that muumuu. It’s hot.”
I laugh because it’s the furthest thing from hot. This beach covering was the closest thing I could find to a respectable nightgown. Though flimsy, it serves as an additional barrier between us.
Maybe I should put on a sweatshirt too?
“It’s impressive you know what a muumuu is.” I open the slider doors, allowing the breeze in. Crashing waves loop on a soundtrack.
“I’ve always had a thing for muumuus,” he says.
I pause as I’m folding back the sheets on my side of the bed. “Maybe now is a good time to go over the rules,” I say primly.
“Can’t wait to break them.” He closes his book and removes his glasses.
“It’s easy. No touching behind closed doors.”
Nathan lifts his hands as if saying, Can you blame me?
I squint, undecided on whether to trust him. Knowing I can’t, I slip under the sheets and take my time carefully constructing a wall of pillows between us. I place Mini-Wolf at the top to guard my new fortress.
Nathan laughs. “You done?”
I hike the covers to my chin and say, “Yes.”
Nathan turns off his light and settles on his side.
“Do you mind if I face the doll in your direction? It’s creepy looking at myself,” he says .
“Fine by me.”
I turn away to lie on my side and snuggle into my pillow. My hand slides beneath, and I realize something’s missing. The treasure box of sex toys I hid from Nathan is gone.
My eyes snap open. Did it fall behind the?—
Buzzz.