Chapter 21 #2
‘Come on. Does the G-spot exist?’ he asks, wearing the tiniest smile that gives me the impression he already knows the answer.
I give him a dull look. ‘You know it exists.’
He just raises his brows slightly, waiting for me to elaborate. I’m tempted to stare back in silence, but if the guy wants me to talk about the G-spot then I suppose I will.
‘For some people, anyway,’ I say, avoiding his eyes. ‘I mean, if you can find it. You know, with persistence. And honesty. Which I guess is why a lot of people fake it because it’s just… I don’t know, easier.’
‘Things are getting a little better in that area nowadays though,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘Right?’
‘I suppose.’ I clear my throat. ‘It looks like conversation around – you know – that specifically is more open and honest than it’s ever been, which helps. But still, faking orgasms… it’s a thing,’ I point out.
He hums in agreement.
There’s a pause. His sharp gaze cuts to me.
‘Have you ever faked one?’ he asks, his face a mask.
‘No comment.’
‘That means yes.’
‘Shut up.’ I reach for my glass again.
‘Wow,’ he says, his mouth turning up in one corner. ‘Looks like somebody needs to give Likeable Greg some tutoring in female pleasure.’
Why are we even discussing female pleasure?? What is in the air in this place?
I snort. ‘Among other things. He would never sign up for lessons. And you know what, that’s the thing,’ I say passionately, waving a finger in the air.
‘The worst culprits are the ones who think they know everything when in reality they just grew up watching hours of porn and then deem themselves “experts”. You should have seen how confident he was about his “skill”. Hideous to witness.’
He winces. ‘I can imagine.’
‘And I hate to break it to you,’ I continue. ‘But women are good at faking orgasms. You’d likely never spot it. It might even have happened to you, champ.’
He gently purses his lips, his eyes on me. ‘I don’t know.’
I stare right back. ‘Yeah, exactly, you don’t.’
The quiet smirk is back as he toys with the edge of his glass. ‘Alright, maybe you’re right,’ he says, his lips twitching.
‘There we go,’ I say with a grin, patting his arm consolingly. ‘Acceptance is good.’
He huffs with laughter, nearly spluttering out his drink. ‘Yeah, thanks a lot, princess.’
‘We can’t all be sex gods, after all,’ I say wisely.
‘Sex god? Is the sex god in the room with us?’ he asks with a nod towards me.
‘Oh fuck, no.’ I figure I shouldn’t even bother trying to lie about my non-existent sex life. ‘I’ll have you know that I’ve had perfectly adequate sex for my entire adult life, thank you,’ I say with my chin high.
He raises a brow. ‘Adequate?’
‘That’s right.’
He’s quiet for a moment, his inky blue eyes darkening.
‘Interesting,’ he murmurs.
My cheeks burn under his relentless gaze, and I successfully manage to resist the urge to glare at him. I go to take another sip of my drink instead, only to find the glass empty.
Placing it gingerly on the table in front of me, I look back at him, feeling daring.
‘Why is that “interesting”? Do I… come across as a sexually satisfied woman, or something?’
‘I’m not sure if anyone comes across as a sexually satisfied woman,’ he replies, his brows furrowed.
I think about it for a moment.
‘Some do,’ I disagree.
‘Okay,’ he says, sounding doubtful. ‘Do I come across as a sexually satisfied man?’ He cocks an eyebrow.
‘Yeah,’ I reply easily with a shrug.
He breathes a laugh. ‘What – what does that mean?’
‘It doesn’t mean anything,’ I say with another shrug, praying he drops it.
He’s suddenly closer to me and seeking out my gaze. ‘It must mean something, what kind of energy am I giving off? I’m a bit concerned by the observation, if I’m honest.’
‘You don’t need to be concerned; don’t overthink it,’ I say airily, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into and how exactly I’m going to get out of it.
‘Seriously, what do you mean?’ he asks again. He looks genuinely troubled.
I heave a frustrated sigh. ‘Why do you care so much about what I mean?’
‘Because maybe I don’t want to give off “sexually satisfied man” energy, as you put it?’
‘No? You’d rather come across sexually unsatisfied like us poor creatures?’
Now he looks puzzled. He shakes his head as if to clear it. ‘And you think you come across as sexually unsatisfied?’
I hesitate, biting my lip.
‘Or are you just saying that you are sexually unsatisfied?’ he asks, his voice cooler, quieter. My body immediately betrays me, a sudden flush of warmth hitting my core.
‘I never said that,’ I snap.
‘I’m just trying to clarify,’ he says.
‘We’re insane for having this conversation.’
‘You started it,’ he quips before tossing back another sip of his drink, my eyes travel to his throat as he swallows.
Did I?? How did this conversation even start? I can’t remember. But I am able to recognise that having an alcohol-fuelled conversation about this topic is a mistake purely by the reaction my body is having. A colossal mistake.
We’re quiet for a moment before he pipes up again, looking irked. ‘Do you mean that I seem like the kind of person who would just hop on, get myself off and then fuck off?’
I expel a ragged breath. Fucking hell, now I’m thinking about his body on top of someone else’s. And I thought Hennie was stubborn.
‘I just… you – you’re an attractive guy,’ I say, gesturing up and down his body. ‘Most guys who look like you are normally… you know, “getting it” from somewhere.’ I grimace at my own words. ‘That’s all I meant.’
He looks slightly revolted and leans back again, raking a hand through his hair.
I feel hideous. First I accuse him of being such a mediocre lover that his partners may very well have faked orgasms with him, and now this?
‘But you’re also so… like, relaxed. And you come across pretty self-assured. You’ve got the whole “I play sports and I feel very good about it” vibe going. I’m sorry – these are all just words and none of them mean anything.’
‘Yeah, I mean… sure.’ He doesn’t look too satisfied with my answer though. I quickly move to change the subject before this tent runs out of air.
‘Anyway–’
‘You think I’m attractive?’ he blurts. I look to him to see a tiny, curious smile illuminating his face.
I go completely still, a blush furiously crawling up my cheeks.
‘I – no – I mean, I never said that,’ I object, shaking my head feverishly. ‘You’re… you know, I mean – you’re like, objectively attractive. I never said I found you attractive.’
He nods, the smile gone, his eyes left dancing across my face. ‘Right.’
Guilt completely replaces and overrides any previous sensations from my body. I squirm as it settles like ice in my stomach.
‘Why don’t we just… park this conversation there?’
‘Probably a good idea,’ he says, putting his empty glass firmly down between us.