Page 64 of Meet Hate Love
“Famous last words,” he mumbled. “Last time I trusted you, a video went viral.”
“Like you should even care about that. No one even noticed you.” Trying my best to hide my phone screen from the sight of anyone around me, I typed inCharlie and the Chocolate Starfish,featuring porn star Johnny Depth. To be clear, the only reason I knew about the film was because of Margot. She had an unhealthy obsession with porn and talked about that video all the time.
I put the other earbud into my ear, intending to shove it into Vance’s left one once I’d fast-forward to a part of the video I thought might work.
The smack of skin slapping skin came through the Bluetooth, followed by a fake moan and “Oh, Johnny!” The pace of the pounding picked up. “Your gobstopper really is everlasting.”
My face went up in flames when Vance looked at me and mouthed, “What the fuck?” Moans and grunts and skin slapping continued, and everywhere I looked, I found some rendition of Jesus on the wall.
Admittedly, maybe playing porn hadn’t been the best idea. Yet there we were, in the very center of the chapel, and if I’d thought mosaic Jesus looking down on me when I’d called Vance a delectable god of hate fucks was bad, staring at a painting of the apocalypse while listening to a girl scream out “Oompah Loompa” while she came was ten trillion times worse.
I cut the video when the guy asked if she was ready for him to get stuck in her chocolate tube.
Margot had some serious issues, but at that moment, Margot being a complete freak wasn’t my concern. The fact that I’d just played Oompah Loompa porn for Vance was.
“That—” Vance yanked the AirPod from his ear, grabbed my balled fist from my side, and dropped it in my palm—“was the opposite of hot.” He studied my ever-reddening face. “Please, tell me you don’t have a Willy Wonka kink?”
“Of course I don’t.” I dislodged my earbud and put both back into the case before cramming it inside my purse.
“You pulled that video up like it was second nature.”
My cheeks burned as I directed my attention to the circular mosaics on the byzantine floor. “Margot evidently has the kink, and can we not talk about that here?” That would teach me to trust Margot’s taste. Although, I was slightly concerned that revelation had just occurred to me after knowing her for most of my life.
Vance leaned in beside me as we crossed the room. “Just so you know. You talking dirty to me would have worked much better.”
Me talking dirty would not have worked any better. If anything, it would have been worse. While I may have been obsessed with words, seduction was not my forte.
The one time I’d tried sexting with a guy I’d met on Tinder, I’d embarrassed myself. He’d gone into this explicitly detailed account of what he wanted to do to me. When it was my turn to respond, all I’d thought about was whether I should type “oh” or “ohhhhhh,” or would a moan of ecstasy sound more like “oooooooh?” There was also the option of a satisfied “ahhh.” Maybe my response needed to be a combination. I’d panicked, typed out “oh, ahh, ahh,” then realized it sounded more like that weird “oooh, eeeh, oooh, ah, ah, ting, tang, walla, walla, bing, bang” song, than it had me coming. I immediately deleted the app, swearing to never sext again.
“We’re not close enough for me to talk dirty to you,” I said, shaking the memory from my head.
“Oh, I’d beg to differ.” Holding eye contact with me, Vance made an obscene gesture with his tongue. “I’d call that pretty close.”
Okay, so that sexy little flick of his tongue proved it wasn’t impossible to get aroused in a room full of religious frescoes after all. Load me up on the hell train. Choo-fucking-choo.
I maneuvered around a stroller. “I’m not good at dirty talk.”
“I’m not buying that.”
From the smirk on his face, if this pull between us continued for any matter of time, he’d make me prove I was terrible at it. Might as well save us both the embarrassment and smother any dirty-mouthed vixen expectations he held.
“You want proof?” On a sigh, I brought my lips as close to his ear as my short butt could reach. “Boobs,” I whispered in the huskiest voice I could muster. “Blowjobs. Vagina.” Pussy would have been a more erotic word, but I wanted to prove a point.
“Thatwas you trying to be seductive?” His brows lifted. “Boobs and blowjobs and vaginas?”
When he said it like that, all I heard was, “Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!” Which… point proven. “Don’t be rude!” I whacked his hard chest. “I just made myself vulnerable.”
“I could teach you to talk dirty.”
I glared at him as we continued past ornately painted walls. “Are you sex talk Yoda or something?”
“I swear you have to be the weirdest girl I’ve ever met,” he said, smiling at me like he enjoyed every weird comment I made. He leaned in by my ear. “And your pussy tastes better than anything I’ve ever put my mouth on.”
Okay. Not what I’d expected him to follow up the first statement with, but it did something akin to knocking the breath from my wannabe-whore lungs.
A warm breath hit my neck. He whispered how beautiful I was when I had my legs spread for him. Then followed that up with, “I could eat it all fucking day.”
And just like that, every inch of my body went up in lust-fueled flames in the middle of the chapel.
