Chapter 9 #2
I’m kind of at a loss. Andrew would go down on me, but usually it was only to get me ready for sex sometimes. He never went long enough for me to finish. Especially when we got older. I used to think it was something wrong with me. Like it was just hard for me to get off or something.
“I won’t say every time,” Pam says. “But nine times out of ten.”
“It was every time for me,” Destiny brags. “Jace didn’t play about my orgasms. That man made sure I came at least once before he did.”
I feel like these women have lived lives I’ve only read about. In books, the female characters have multiple orgasms, some from penetration alone. I always assumed it was just something made up for the enjoyment of the reader. But now I’m thinking maybe I just got the short end of the stick.
“What about you, Jada?” I ask.
For some reason I feel as if Jada is the most adventurous here. She has that personality and aura, like she knows her stuff in a bedroom.
A slow grin spread across her face. “I get my orgasms first. A man can’t even stick his dick in me if he doesn’t make me come first.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Meagan lifts her hand, and she and Jada high fives.
The rest of the night goes smoothly. We eat, drink, and laugh until it’s time to head home.
By the time the girls had left, I’d changed out of my date night outfit and was wearing my two-piece pajama short set.
After cleaning up the last of the things left in the living room, I turn off the light to head to bed.
Just then, the doorbell rang. I assume it’s one of the girls coming back.
“Now, which one of you left something?” I ask swinging the door open. My words die down and my mouth goes dry when I spot the person leaning against the doorframe.
“Mitchell?” His name comes out breathy.
His gaze rakes over me slowly. Lord, I swear it’s like I haven’t seen this man in years.
His dark, short-sleeved shirt fits snugly across his enormous chest. His dark-wash jeans sit low on his hips.
He’s literally wearing nothing but jeans and a t-shirt, and it’s like he’s dressed in the best attire ever.
My heart pounds in my chest in anticipation of what he’s going to say. I wait with bated breath.
“I hate to bother you,” he says in that deep voice. “But Jacob left his laptop over here in Cam’s room.”
My heart sinks to my feet, but I don’t let it show. What did you think he was here to say, Ella?
I step back, allowing him to enter. “Of course. If you know where it is, you can go look.”
He steps into the house, his looming height dwarfing me. When he walks past me, that familiar woodsy and spicy scent hits my nostrils.
I close the door. He disappears down the hallway toward Cam’s room.
I quickly rub at the pointed pebbles poking through my nightshirt.
Goodness, I hope he didn’t notice the headlights.
Flipping the living room light back on, I go over to the rack of clothes Kyra left behind.
I will do anything to keep my mind busy from my guest.
“Got it,” his deep voice came from behind me. He’s holding up the black device.
“Oh, good.” I face him, clutching my hands nervously down in front of me.
He stands there for a moment, watching me. I want to ask him what I did? I want to ask why he’s been so distant, but I can’t get the words to form.
“You’ve been shopping?” When I look up, he points to the rack behind me.
“Um. Yeah. The girls helped me revamp my wardrobe. Tonight, Kyra went through the outfits to style me for my date tom—”
“Date?” his brow quirks up and his face pinches.
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Yeah. I have my first date tomorrow night. I was going to let you know when you came to work on the house. Well, if you came.”
He flinches slightly when I say the last part. I guess he realizes it's obvious that he’s been avoiding me.
“I was going to come.” The words came out sternly.
I don’t argue against him. Even though I didn’t believe him.
“Who is this guy?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest, the laptop tucked in the middle. “How long have you been talking to him? Is he meeting you here? Have you checked his background? Do you know anything—”
“Whoa,” I say with a chuckle. “Are you going to give me time to answer?”
The scowl on his face softened and turned into a smile.
“Sorry,” he says, dropping his arms back to his sides. “Who is this guy?”
“His name is Jeremy Rogers. He’s 42, has no kids, manages a G Mobile and coaches AAU basketball.
We’ve been talking for nearly three weeks.
I’m meeting him at Maurice’s for dinner and then going to the jazz bar afterwards.
And Jada looked him up in the city tax records.
She also has his address, a picture of him, and has told me I will share my location with her for the entire date.
” I chuckle. “You can relax. I have everything covered.”
He swallows, causing the knot in his throat to bob before nodding his head. “Good. I’m glad you’re getting back out there.” He heads for the door. My heart starts racing again.
I have spent no real time with him in weeks. I feel as though if he walks out, it will be another few weeks before I see him again. And although that’s probably a good thing, I can’t fathom living that scenario.
“Mitch,” I call his name desperately.
He stops. His back is to me, with his hand on the doorknob.
What the hell now, Ella? What are you going to say to him? “Please don’t leave? I know I’m just your best friend’s ex-wife, but I have become so desperately dependent on you I can’t stand to not be in your presence?” Girl, you have to get it together. This isn’t healthy.
Swallowing back the disgust I feel in myself, I look down at my feet. “Goodnight.”
My puny words float through the air like a feather amid a storm. His back rises and falls as if he’s taking deep breaths. Finally, he speaks.
“Goodnight, El.” With those words, he opened the door and walked out, leaving me alone in my living room.
It's probably better this way.