Page 8 of Lovesick
“Let me clean you up,” he offers, rolling partway off the bed before I stop him with my outstretched hand. When he looks back at me, it feels like time stops.
A man who practices aftercare, let aloneknowsabout it? Am I dreaming?
“Don’t you want me to help with”—I gesture to the standing ovation in his pants—“that?”
His chuckle is deep and hearty, tinged with a healthy doseof gravel that would have my panties flying off if they weren’t already somewhere on his bedroom floor. “This isn’t a tit-for-tat situation. You don’t owe me anything. I ate you out because Iwantedto, not because I expected something in return.”
Whenever I was—and I use the term loosely here—“intimate” with my ex, it was always transactional. He’d offer to lick the lily, I’d let him, and then he’d guilt-trip me into servicing his needs. I kind of just assumed sex was like that, you know? I didn’t hate giving him head, but it wasn’t my favorite. Dicks are just so…unattractive. Floppy, wrinkly, veiny—the equivalent of a raw chicken leg with gangrene.
Crew strains a bit against my hold, but I tighten my grip. “What if Iwantto help you?”
The shock on his face is comical. “Youwantto jerk me off?”
“I want to have sex,” I clarify.
3
LOOSE ENDS
MERIT
Crew abandons his journey toward the bathroom, instead settling into the mattress to face me fully. “Are you sure? ‘Cause I’m fine with just ending things here for the night. You came, I showed off—that was pretty much everything on the agenda.”
This is the first guy I’ve met who doesn’t view sex as some business arrangement. He might even—gasp—see me as an actual human being. Maybe chivalry isn’t dead after all.
I’m not sure how I muster the confidence, but I summon it from somewhere dark and depraved, and I trace my fingernail along the length of his arm.
I pretend to pout. “Are you saying that youdon’twant to fuck me?”
He growls—yes,growls—and forcefully seizes my wandering finger, making me gasp in surprise. His hands are huge, calloused, capable of ripping me to shreds, but equally capable of caressing me in the softest of touches. Right now, though, they verge on destructive, squeezing with every intent to make me regret my comment.
“That’s not what I’m saying at all, but if we do this, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.”
I know I’m not the greatest at reading the room sometimes, but I full-on laugh in his face. An obnoxious, pig snort of a laugh. Less so because of his statement and more so because I can’t imagine a world where a guy like him would be so hesitant to have sex.
“I’m notthatirresistible, but I appreciate the vote of confidence,” I joke.
Crew wordlessly lets my wrist go, and although I catch the movement of his lips, whatever he says is too quiet for me to decipher.
He then clambers onto his knees so that he’s suspended over me, and I scoot my head down to rest comfortably on one of the pillows. His blond hair dangles in front of his face, his muscular arms bracket the sides of my head, and his gigantic thighs bookend my hips. Everything about him is daunting, yet there’s a contradicting softness in his eyes reserved only for me.
I make quick work of his zipper, using a combination of my hands and feet to tug his pants over his ass and down his legs—a redirect from the not-so-platonic staring contest we were having.
When I get to the last barrier standing between me and an unbruised cervix, I strip his boxers off rather unceremoniously, nowhere near prepared for the monster I’ve just unleashed. If I thought my ex’s four-inch dick was big, Crew’s has to be anatomically incorrect. Because there, protruding before me, is a cock the length of my forearm, the width of a GMO eggplant, and riddled with endless rivers of veins. It sags from its heavy weight, and it doesn’t help that his hanging balls are just as intimidating.
Oh my God. What have I gotten myself into? I’m going to die tonight.
The polite thing to do would be to avert my eyes, but I can’t. “Oh, uh, that’s…you’re…”
“Well-endowed?”
All the saliva in my mouth evaporates. “Mm-hm.”
“We can stop any time you want,” he reassures me.
I shake my head. “I know. I just…I don’t think it’ll fit.”
Something dark kindles in his near-black eyes. “It’ll fit. I just have to be gentle. Itneedsto fit, Merit. I need to see that pretty little cunt taking all of me.” A whimper tags his sentence, and my pussy flutters at the prospect of a six-foot-three giant begging to be inside me.
