Page 23 of Snapshot

Why did I open my mouth about nicknames? This is even more uncomfortable.

“Okay, I appreciate you trying,” I say.

“But, for me, I prefer Alan. Is that all right? I’ve never been into pet names or any of that stuff.”

“What stuff?”

He grimaces. “Like flaunting your relationship. Public displays of affection. I think what we do in private should be private.”

I glance over his deep blue eyes and neatly trimmed sandy-blond hair. He really is beautiful. “Oh, okay, sure. I understand.”

His smile returns. “Great. I like that we can talk about this stuff. I love you.”

“I love you too,” I reply, but the words feel empty. I do love Alan. I want to make him happy. I’m loyal, protective, and thoughtful. But I’m nothungryfor him. Is this grownup love? Is maturity choosing what’s good for me, regardless of what I’m actually craving?

Once he’s fully dressed, he heads towards the door, leaving me behind, still naked and half-tucked under the sheets. “I’ll lock the front door so you can stay cozy as long as you like. I’ll see you in the morning,” he says.So considerate.

“Have a good night at work.”

I wait until I hear the front door close.

Then, the eager butterflies flutter in my chest as I open my nightstand drawer to find my sleek black vibrating clit stimulator. Magic little device. Relief is just moments away.

I flick on the vibration to the lowest settings and strip the sheets from my body, feeling the cool air kissing my nipples. I hate having sex under the covers. It’s like trying to fuck in a straightjacket. What’s there to be ashamed about when you love someone? When you’re sharing your body with someone you trust, it should feel like a playground. Every breath should be held in anticipation until it hurts. Every touch should feel dangerous, like a salacious dare. Every time you lock eyes is an invitation to go one step further than you had before. Sex should be invigorating. A treasure, a treat, not a chore to endure.

I’m religious about cleaning my vibrators so I can take my time and use them all over.It’s the teasing that really gets me. First, I place the suction divot in the hollow behind my ear. A few seconds later, I’m dragging it down my neck, fantasizing about plush lips leaving a trail of kisses down to my collarbone. Goose bumps begin to rise.

My breath quickens, and the images start to flash through my head. I stay focused on Alan’s face, but it quickly morphs into the man who has been occupying my hidden thoughts for years now.

It always happens like this, and I hate myself for it. Because I don’t see Alan’s blond hair and blue eyes. I try to keep him at the forefront of my mind. But instead, as it always goes, I picture my fists closing around thick tufts of jet-black hair. Hazel eyes—green in small patches, honey-brown in others—hold my gaze. I see the smile that starts in his eyes, spreading to his lips.

As I graze my nipples one by one with the vibrator, I think about Dex’s mouth on them. What it’d feel like. I wonder whether he’s the kind of guy to gently flick his tongue or suck mercilessly. In my fantasy, he’s a different Dex, and I’m a different Lennox. I want him, he wants me, and there aren’t so many obstacles in the way. Like friendship. The excuse he’s used to keep me at arm’s length for three years now.

Friendship.The thing I say I’m satisfied with.

And Iamin real life. I truly do care about Dex as a friend. I’d do anything for him.

But in the sanctity of my mind?

His large hands are all-fucking-over my body.

And the mere thought of it is almost enough to make me come.

My clit is aching by the time the vibrator is resting just below my belly button. I bite my lip hard, making myself wait, staying in the fantasy for just a moment longer. I wonder what he’d say to me right now. Is Dex powerful and possessive in the bedroom? Or sweet and tender? If he wanted me like that, would we make love…or fuck?

I guess I’ll never get to know.

The vibrator barely contacts my wet clit before I’m sent. I groan loudly in pleasure at my surging climax. No one is here, so I let loose, whimpering, mewling, wishing these were the sounds I made with Alan. I bring him to the forefront of my mind,focusing on my boyfriend, feeling too guilty coming to the thought of a different man.

Stay, Alan. Stay with me.

When I hear his voice through the haze, saying my name, I’m certain for once my forced fantasy worked. It doesn’t always, so I’m relieved. At least I’m hearing the right man’s voice. But then he speaks again, and it sounds a little too real.

“Lennox?”

Yanked from my post-orgasmic high, I fly up into a sitting position to see Alan standing in the doorway. The bedroom door that was previously closed is flung wide open. My jaw drops. As if he didn’t just see my entire display of theatrics, I hastily tuck my vibrator behind my back. I clamp my knees together, closing my legs and hiding my swollen sex. But I don’t say anything as I try to gauge his expression.

There’s no misunderstanding the look on his face. It’s hurt and bewilderment mixed with a lot of embarrassment.

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