27
Valentina
Ava paints her nails at the coffee table while Birdie sits beside me on the couch, flipping through movies. As for me, my mind hasn’t stopped spinning about what Huxley and I talked about earlier.
I told him I’ve never fantasized about sex, which was true. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never fantasized about him. What could have been Freshman year if I wasn’t so afraid has run through my head more times than I’d like to count.
So even though I’ve never fantasized about sleeping with Huxley Adams, he’s still lived in my mind for the past three years.
I chew on my bottom lip, glancing between my friends. Maybe they could help me.
“Can I ask you guys something?”
Neither of them looks up from their tasks.
Ava dips her brush into the nail polish bottle. “Sure.”
“Yeah, go ahead,” Birdie adds.
I play the question over in my mind before finally asking, “Have you guys ever fantasized about someone before?”
Ava looks up mid-swipe on her nail, and Birdie turns to me, letting a trailer for a random movie start playing in the background.
“Fantasized about someone?” Birdie asks for clarification. I nod. She starts to say something else when Ava speaks up.
“Well, I have.” Birdie and I look at her. “Back in high school, there was this substitute teacher. Insanely gorgeous, and he was in his 20s, so of course every girl thought about fucking him.” She leans forward onto the coffee table, suddenly more excited about her story.
“Then, my Senior year, my class was celebrating my birthday. I walked into the hallway during the party, and there he was, there for some Freshman class or something. But when I got closer to him, he asked me how old I had turned. When I told him I had turned 18, he pulled me into the supply closet and put his hand under my skirt. When I told him I wasn’t a virgin, he straight-up fucked me in there.
I even missed my next class because we were still going. Best birthday gift of my life.”
She smiles fondly, reliving her happy memory.
“Why are you asking us this?” I look at Birdie as she slowly looks at me, wanting to forget Ava’s story just as much as I do.
“Huxley and I were talking, and he told me that I should fantasize about someone so maybe I won’t be so afraid to do things with him.”
Birdie shrugs. “It’s not a bad idea, I guess.”
My eyebrows shoot up at her words. I wasn’t expecting Birdie to be okay with something that involves Huxley. But if she says it’s a good idea, well, technically, that it’s not a bad idea, then maybe I should go through with it.
“Who you going to fantasize about?” Ava nearly bounces from her spot on the floor, clearly the most excited in the bunch.
“Um…” I’ve been trying to think of someone all day, but have come up with no one. The only guy that I’ve really come in contact with aside from Huxley is…
“You should fantasize about Carson.”
My heart stops at the sound of his name. I hope I never run into that guy ever again.
“She doesn’t have a masochism kink,” Birdie states. She turns to me in question. “Well. Do you?”
I try to say something, but nothing comes out. How am I even supposed to respond to all this?
“Masochism is the one where you like pain, right?” Ava asks, and Birdie nods.
“No.” I manage to say. “No, I don’t have that. And what does that have to do with Carson?”
“He’s an asshole who tried hurting you on campus,” Birdie says. And at the party. But they don’t know about that. “If you fantasized about him, it would only make sense that he was hurting you sexually also. But you liked it. Hence the masochism.”
I shake my head quickly. “I can assure you that if I ever do fantasize about someone, it won’t be him.”
A silence hangs over us for a minute before Birdie says, “I mean, if you were to fantasize about someone, it would only make sense for it to be Huxley.”
My eyes widen at her while she shrugs.
“I know I’m not the biggest supporter of all this,” she clarifies. “But if he’s going to be the guy you have sex with, might as well fantasize about him.”
She has a point. But fantasizing about him being my boyfriend and fantasizing about having sex with him are two completely different things.
Plus, this will only remind me that we’re supposed to actually have sex at some point.
And that just makes me think of our deal. Which only hurts me more in the end.
I shrug, trying to come off calmer than I feel. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
Birdie nods and goes back to finding a movie, and Ava resumes painting her nails.
And as for me, I’m still spiraling.
Ilie in bed, trying to fantasize about Huxley Adams, but I’m failing.
Even though I know what sex is and I know how it feels when I touch myself, adding Huxley to the mix jumbles everything around.
I’m nervous. I wasn’t even nervous the first time I masturbated when I was 17. But Huxley Adams has that effect on me.
I close my eyes and try to relax. Thoughts of Huxley’s hands on my skin start to filter in, and I try to connect those feelings to my own actions.
I swear I feel a hand on my cheek.
“Hello, Valentine.”
My eyes fly open, and I search my room for him, but I’m alone.
“I’m in your head, Love.”
I notice my own hand on my cheek, so I quickly pull it away. That felt so real. Like he was right next to me. I will my heart to calm down as I lie back and close my eyes, picturing Huxley again.
“I’m honored to be the one you’re fantasizing about.”
“Who else would it be?”
He smiles and brings his hand up, slowly moving his fingers over my collarbone. My breathing picks up immediately.
“Relax, baby. I’m barely even touching you.”
I take a deep breath and watch his hand move down a bit further. His fingers brush lightly over my breast, and a small whimper leaves me.
“Quiet, Love. You don’t want your friends to hear you.”
I nod and watch him move his fingers in a slow circle on my breast before moving inward, tracing over my nipple. I gasp, shivers running through my body at his touch.
“You’re very sensitive.”
His hand covers my breast while his thumb gently teases my nipple through my shirt. My head falls back, and I arch into his touch, wanting more.
“Lower.”
“Lower?”
I look up at him and nod. He smiles, and my eyes jump back to his hand as it begins to move down. He traces lines over my stomach, making my breathing pick up again. When he reaches my shorts, he slips one finger under the waistband of my panties.
Then another.
He moves at a slow pace, crawling his hand under my clothes. Once his hand is completely hidden and heading for the spot between my legs that has started begging for his touch, I grab for the bedding in anticipation.
But he stops.
“Why did you stop?”
“I didn’t. You did.”
My eyes open, and I look down to see my hand under my clothes, unmoving—frozen with a stupid fear. I let out a frustrated breath and drop my head to my pillow, letting my eyes fall closed again.
“Valentine.”
I look up at him.
“What are you afraid of? I’m not actually touching you. Your mind won’t let me go further than you want to. So what’s the matter?”
Somehow, I’m still nervous even though he’s not really beside me. But I push through.
“I guess, I’m worried that I’ll imagine you enjoying this more than you will in real life.”
He frowns. “You think I won’t enjoy this in real life? Of course, I will.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re in my head. The real you is different. The real you has been with other people. People who are probably a lot better than me at this.”
He shrugs. “I suppose that’s the plus side of the fantasy. You can imagine it going however you choose. But that’s also the downfall of the fantasy. Reality.”
We stare at each other for a minute until he turns his head and smiles. I turn my head too and see his hand moving again.
My whole body clenches until he finally touches my clit. A muffled sound leaves my lips as he starts moving his fingers in soft circles.
“You think I’d be this gentle with you?”
“Would you not?”
He shrugs. “Most people don’t come to me for gentle sex.”
He moves his fingers in tighter, faster circles. My mouth opens on a sharp cry, but a hand covers my mouth before a sound can escape.
“This seems more realistic.”
He suddenly stops and pushes his hand down further, not even hesitating before shoving two fingers into me. My head tips back as I moan into his hand.
“Show me how slow you usually do it.”
His fingers move in and out of me at a soft, gentle pace. Even though this is what I’m used to, it feels too slow now.
I need more.
“You think I’ll be this slow?”
I look up at him just as his fingers start to move faster, his hand tightening over my mouth as louder sounds come through.
“You like that, don’t you? How fast I’m going. How hard my fingers are fucking you.”
My back arches off the bed, begging him to go faster.
“Come for me, Valentine.”
My body shakes with an orgasm that nearly has my body doubling over from the intensity. As I come down, all of the energy drains from my body, ready to pass out at any second. Huxley slowly pulls his fingers out of me, a whimper leaving my throat as he does.
“Good girl.”
He presses his lips to my forehead in a slow kiss that brings me back to life.
I open my eyes and slowly pull my hand from my mouth. My eyes move down to my shorts, where my hand is still under my clothes.
Oh my god.
Did I just…
“Holy shit.”