Page 16 of Spencer's Satisfaction
I blink. “Huh?”
“I’m a…” he clears his throat and the blush that had started to fade comes back with a vengeance, “I’ve never had sex. Like…never. So, um, I don’t know if I’m only into the Daddy books because I’m lonely and like the idea of being taken care of, or if I’m actually, y’know,intothem. I mean, obviously, the sex scenes do it for me, especially whenyou’rereading them, but…” He pales. “Oh, God, I can’t believe I said that out loud! I’m shutting up now.”
Now, I am not some caveman type who gets off on the idea of my sexual partners being untouched and pure and only for me. I’m not. Really. I swear it.
Adults have needs. I don’t shame anyone for expressing those needs or going after what they want, as long as they’re not putting themselves or others in danger when they do.
But something primitive stirs deep down inside me at Tony’s hastily rambled confession. I want to be his first. I want to make it good for him. I want…hell, I justwant.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin, sweetheart,” I tell him, frowning when he cringes. “No, I’m serious.”
“I’m twenty-eight,” he argues back, “it’s kind of beyond a joke, isn’t it? I mean, if I was avoiding sex for a reason, sure, no shame there. ButI’ve triedand…well, let’s just say my sexual journey has been a comedy of errors and leave it at that.”
I want to know everything, naturally. I want to knowwhathe’s tried and where things went wrong for him. I want to promise him that not everyone’s first experiences (or fifth, or tenth, or hundredth) always go as well as people say that they did.
“Anthony, look at me,” I’m not above using Daddy voice, even if he’s not a Little. He drags his gaze back to mine with great reluctance. “There’s nothing wrong with never having had sex. Plenty of people have perfectly functional relationships without sex.”
“I know,” he says, sounding almost petulant, “butI want to.” His voice goes tight with emotion and I want to reach out and hug him. But he powers on, “It just…hasn’t happened.”
“And that’s not your fault.”
“But-”
“Tony. It’s not. Trust me.”
He purses his lips, flits his gaze around the room, then snorts in what sounds like self-deprecation. “I should go.”
I want to demand that he stays so we can talk this out, but I know I’ve probably already pushed him too far out of his comfort zone.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’m not forcing you to stay,” I tell him, ignoring the voice inside me that screams I should try, “but I want to talk about this with you.” Lowering my arms, I reach for him again, but he scoots back his chair. “Promise me you won’t dodge my calls?”
His lower lip is once again being mauled by his teeth. “I’ll try not to.”
Chapter Six – Tony
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I murmur to myself as I stare unseeingly out of the back passenger window of the Lyft I ordered when I all but ran away from the most successful first date I’ve ever had.
Yes, that is how pathetic I am:thatdumpster fire was still the best date I’ve ever been on.
Spencer offered to drive me home, but I refused. I didn’t trust myself not to embarrass myself even further.
Who tells their date that they’re a twenty-eight-year-old virgin who gets off on listening to said date narrating kinky novels?Ugh. I want to crawl into a hole and die.
He asked me not to dodge his calls, but I can’t imagine that he’s going to want anything more to do with me. Why would he? I absolutely ruined our date, embarrassed myself in multiple ways, and told him all the ways in which I’m abnormal. If I were him, I would have done a happy dance the second my crazy-ass date walked out the door.
I trudge up the front path to my ground floor apartment and roll my neck, bracing myself for my sister’s interrogation. But, when I open the door into the living room, she’s not there. I heave a sigh of relief and, not counting my chickens until they’re hatched, scurry down the short hallway towards my bedroom.
It’s only once I’m safely huddled in my bed, my fingers hovering over the screen of my phone with the Audible app open, that I let the first tear fall.
I liked Spencer.
I liked Spencer a lot.
And I fucked up any chance of getting that second date.
Through blurry vision, I start removing titles from my audiobook library. I tell myself it’s for the best. I don’t think I could listen to his narration without further upsetting myself, right?
I’m a sobbing, emotional wreck when I’m done. Even though getting those books back is as simple as a few swipes and clicks on my screen, the symbolism of what I’ve just done is what has shaken me. I’m heartbroken, giving up one of the things that has brought me so much comfort and joy, and also acknowledging that I’m not going to see the handsome man I’m so very interested in again.
