Chapter 27
What am I doing? Something must be wrong with me. I’ve never been this horny.
My blue bestie gets a workout nearly every day. That’s a lie. It’s every day, sometimes more than once.
What do you expect when I’m living and working with the sexiest man alive and now have been dry humped by him to completion. My blue bestie does a bang-up job, but nothing compares to the way Connor made me come beneath the stars that night.
It didn’t matter we were covered in sticky pie filling or were in the wide open and anyone could’ve seen us—it was profoundly intimate. We weren’t naked, he wasn’t inside me, but it was the best sex I’ve ever had.
I’m painfully disappointed that like the two kisses that “never happened,” this never happened either. Is there an award for denial and avoidance? Because if there is, we both deserve the gold.
But it did happen, and it’s all I think about. My body aches for him every minute of the day. I longed for Connor before, but now knowing how he feels between my legs, my suffering is unbearable.
Naturally, I’m currently straddling Connor’s pillow with my blue bestie situated just right, and I’m questioning every decision I’ve ever made.
I need to come. I can usually orgasm with my vibrator but it’s like a tickle when I need a deep itch scratched. No matter how hard I try, I can’t replicate Connor’s hard dick grinding against me like he’d die without having me.
The thought that he might want me in that way was intoxicating. I gave in to my desire and took as much as he was willing to give.
I’ve been at it for a half hour already and I’m nowhere close to satisfied. Connor’s at the ranch today helping Reid with the guest cabins but I stayed home so I wouldn’t be subjected to him prancing around in front of me in his slutty little tank top and backwards hat.
And his ass—dear god, his ass is magnificent. His jeans sit just low enough on his hips to reveal that tempting “V,” making my mouth water involuntarily. Drool isn’t attractive on anyone, let me tell you.
I used my day of solitude to take an everything shower, exfoliate and moisturize every inch of my body, and indulge in some good old-fashioned masturbation.
I give up, tossing my blue bestie off to the side and remove myself from Connor’s pillow. I can’t forget to wash his pillowcase…
My phone goes off on the bedside table and I flop over to check it.
Studmuffin: Hey doll, how are you feeling?
Funny story, I’ve been so horny for him, I couldn’t survive a day of watching him do hard labor, so I told him I wasn’t feeling well. The guilt from lying is worth not being subjected to his abs today.
Me: I feel fine, sorry I’m not there to help!
Studmuffin: You feeling better is all that matters. We’ve got it handled over here.
Me: Is it going okay?
Studmuffin: [selfie of a shirtless, sweat-glistening Connor covered in sawdust standing in front of the nearly framed guest house]
Why? Why must he torture me? Does he realize what it does to me when he sends me pictures like this? I have a locked folder in my phone full of photos he’s sent me over the years and I’m not ashamed to say they make an appearance when my vibrator comes out.
Lust muddles my brain. Am I perpetually ovulating or something? This is ridiculous. I blame my hormones for what I do next.
Me: [selfie naked from the shoulders up, lying in bed with evident post-pillow humping hair]
The bouncing dots appear, and disappear, over and over. Is he going to reply? Did I take it too far? It’s okay for him to send flirty selfies but not me?
Studmuffin: Please tell me that was meant for me.
Me: Who else would it be for?
Studmuffin: I don’t know, but I don’t want to think about it.
Me: Good to know. Yes, it was for you. If you can send me topless selfies, why can’t I?
Again, the bouncing dots spike my anxiety.
Studmuffin: What are you doing at home that left you looking like you’ve just been fucked?
Oh. My. God. Did he really say that? I read the text repeatedly to confirm that yes, my best friend just referenced me and being fucked in the same sentence.
Confidence sparks and I’m running with it. I’m tired of living in limbo with Connor, so I’m pushing the issue.
Me: Maybe I was.
Studmuffin: Don’t fuck with me Delilah. Are you alone?
Me: Nope.
Studmuffin: Who’s in our fucking apartment?
Me: Just me and my blue bestie.
Studmuffin: Your what?
Me: [photo of blue bestie laying discarded on the rumpled bed next to his used pillow]
Studmuffin: Delilah…
Me: Yes?
Studmuffin: Did you fuck yourself with that vibrator?
Me: Mmhmm, but it wasn’t enough.
Studmuffin: No? Don’t like this one? You must miss the purple one I found in your nightstand at the trailer.
He did not…I thought it got left behind. Connor found it and has known about it all this time? I might die from mortification if we hadn’t blown past that into uncharted territory.
Me: It’s an upgrade from my purple pal. This one is longer. Thicker. Textured. And vibrates so hard I come every time.
Studmuffin: Fuck. You’re killing me, doll.
Studmuffin: What are you doing to me?
Me: I’m trying to tell you it isn’t enough.
Studmuffin: What would be enough?
Now it’s my turn to type a response just to delete it, over and over. What am I supposed to say?
This was fun but nothing’s changed between us? I’m in love with you but you see me as just a friend? We had a heated moment by the bonfire, but refuse to talk about it? I don’t know how much longer I can live like this?
Instead, I don’t say anything at all.