Page 72 of Romance Is Dead

“Teddy,” I moaned, reaching a hand down to twine through his hair, to feel his head between my legs. “There. Don’t. . . don’t stop. Shit.” My pleasure was tightening, twisting into a peak that was rapidly mounting. “I’m close.” My voice was hoarse. “Close. Fuck.”

Not yet, I thought. I didn’t want this to end. I gasped, slapping a hand down on the couch next to me and squeezing the fabric.

“Hey.” Teddy let go of my thigh and grappled for my hand. “Stay with me,” he murmured, squeezing it. And then, instead of licking me, he took my clit in his mouth and sucked, gently, once and then twice.

That did me in. I came, so hard and so long I saw stars. The waves of pleasure pulsed through me and didn’t stop, pounding for what seemed like an eternity. I must have let go of his hand at some point because when I finally started to come down, I was holding my own head in my hands and Teddy was climbing onto the sofa next to me.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, pushing myself up so I could rest my head on his chest. “That was incredible.”

Grinning, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. “And to think you said we should stop.”

I let my eyes droop closed, my entire body exhausted and boneless. “I’m not wrong very often. But that was definitely the worst idea I ever had.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Holy shit. I did that. We did that. Teddy had laid me down, made me come with his mouth, and asked for nothing in return. And that suction maneuver he’d done with his tongue? I was absolutely ruined for any person I’d be with in the future.

I hadn’t been able to bask in my post-orgasmic bliss for long. After coming back down to earth, I’d remembered that filming wasn’t over for the day—and soon people would notice we were missing. Especially with Natasha eager to make up the day that we’d lost to police questioning the cast and crew.

The following twenty-four hours were filled with back-to-back shoots, but I still couldn’t turn off the horny replay in my head.

My suspicions had been correct—Teddy was more skillful with his tongue than any mortal had the right to be.

“Look up.” Mara was staring at me expectantly, eyelash curler in hand. I hadn’t even noticed that she’d spun me around and that I was no longer facing the mirror in the makeup trailer. I obeyed, holding as still as possible.

Mara was mad at me. The night before, I’d forgotten—again—that we’d made plans, this time to get coffee and dessert at the hotel’s restaurant. I’d been so exhausted from the day’s filming and so distracted from replaying my hook up with Teddy that it had completely slipped my mind until I got her text asking me where I was—eight hours later, when I woke up this morning.

I’d spent the day trying everything to get back in her good graces: peace offerings of onion rings and wine, a new romance novel based on thinly disguised Reylo fan fiction, and two separate bouquets of flowers delivered to her trailer. Nothing had worked. She’d dumped the wine down the drain, trashed the onion rings, and shredded the flowers right in front of me. (Although she did keep the book.)

There was only one option left: sex gossip.

“I guess you don’t want to hear what happened between me and Teddy yesterday.” I sighed tragically.

Mara swiped extra mascara onto my lashes. “Nope. I’m good.”

“I see.” I obediently kept my eyes trained on the ceiling. “Too bad. I don’t have anyone else to tell about the best orgasm of my life.”

Mara’s eye twitched. She pressed the curler to the base of my lashes, helping the falsies stick to my real ones. “Unfortunate.”

“A real talented tongue on that one.”

Finally, Mara’s resolve crumbled. She threw down the eyelash curler and leaned in close. “Tell me everything.”

So I did.

“Oh my God, finally.” She retrieved the eyelash curler from the floor and cleaned it before returning to my lashes. “Have you guys talked about it? What did he say?”

“No.”

“Quinn! You need to talk to him.”

“Why?” I asked stubbornly, blinking as she released one set of lashes and started on the other. “Weren’t you the one encouraging a friends-with-benefits situation?”

“Yes, but—”

“He told me himself he’s not a relationship guy, and I’m not in the market for anything serious, either. So what is there to talk about?”

“Healthy communication never hurt anyone.” Done with my lashes, Mara moved on to dusting a hint of highlighter on my cheeks. “As long as you’re ok with it not being anything more.”

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