Page 87 of Give In

The edge of orgasm.

Of sanity.

And of my tiny twin bed.

I’d picked up my phone to see if I was also on the edge of missing class, only to see the text from Damien.

He hadn’t specified, but still, I knew he was asking if I’d had any luck coming. I had no clue how I knew, just like I had no clue how he’d known I’d try. But he had, because of fucking course he had.

God, he was infuriating. And bossy. And an asshole with mood swings worse than anyone I’d met.

Women got a lot of shit for their moods, especially during that time of the month, but it was nothing compared to the mercurial moods of men. And Damien was the worst of them all.

Unfortunately, he was also brilliant, gorgeous, intellectually stimulating, dangerous, and surprisingly tender.

But what was the point in heading down that road with him? Between our dysfunction, his career, and my—albeit poorly thought out and tentative—plans to move states away, we were doomed from the start. Even if we just had a casual, physical fling, too much was at stake.

Even as I told myself all the negatives, all the reasons I needed to steer clear, I couldn’t help but think about what he made me feel. My libido ran wild when I was with him, definitely. But more than that, I came alive and justfelt.

Maybe that was a huge, billboard-sized sign that I needed to haul ass out of town. Emotions were messy, and my life was already a big knot of disaster.

Looking at his message again, I was tempted to ignore it, but I couldn’t resist poking.

Me:Yes. Lots of luck. Multiple times of luck.

My phone dinged almost instantly.

DC:Liar.

Me:Am not. It was amazing. Might need to skip classes to recover.

DC:Now I know you’re a liar.

I dropped my cell to my chest and gave a giddy giggle, my exhaustion and frustration giving me a case of the dumbs. Snatching it back up when it dinged, I nearly bobbled it when I read the waiting message.

DC:But say the word, and we can meet in my office. You can spread on my desk and show me exactly how you ‘luck’.

A tremor ran through me, tightening my nipples and sending a flood of arousal to my already drenched pussy.

My eyes drifted to the vibrator on my bedside table, and I wondered how effective it would be without the batteries.

Realizing what I was thinking, I tore my eyes away.

Thinking about Damien while I get off is one thing. Sexting is something totally different. Way over the line. Unacceptable and distasteful. So far beyond proper, it’s out of the question…

Mostly because I need the vibration.

‘Cause if I had batteries, all bets would be off.

Too horny to be disgusted at myself, I focused on my phone.

Me:Say the word? Is the word ‘delusional’? Because you’re delusional if you think that’ll ever happen.

DC:It makes me hard when you fight it. It’ll be that much sweeter when you give in.

Maybe I don’t need vibrations…

Me:Yup. Delusional.

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