Page 48 of Sweeper
I could think of worse places for my cock to be stuck in.
But seriously…the parts I was fully present for were wicked hot. I should at the very least get a good game pat on the butt or something, right? I’m her Soccer Boy, for fuck’s sake.
When I retrieve my coat from the kitchen floor, I glance over, considering a quick kiss goodbye, but her body language indicates she just wants me out of her space.
Trying to sound casual as the sex we just had, I offer, “Good night?”
“Night!” She waves at me like she waves at the deliveryman.
I walk out into the hallway and slump against her door when a horrifying thought crosses my mind:Am I bad at sex?
Daphney
“Phoebe, I could strangle you!” I exclaim, marching into Phoebe’s bedroom at eight o’clock the next morning.
She shoots up out of bed, her teal silk eye mask still fully in place as she flings her hands out wide. “I only consented to choking that one time!”
I blink at that odd response but figure we can unpack that conversation at another time. We have bigger fish to fry this morning. “Well, prepare for my wrath regardless because I am coming in piping hot,” I growl and drop my key for her flat back in my purse.
Phoebe pushes her mask up into her hair, revealing green eyes that are still just as vibrant in the morning as they were last night. How does she wake up like that?
“What did I do?” she asks, shoving her stray black strands of hair out of her eyes.
“Oh, where do I begin?” I start pacing the floor of her very girlie bedroom. It’s decorated in all white and pale pinks, just like it was when we were children. It’s like an adult baby room. Flowery, fluffy, girlie, the very opposite of the rage boiling inside me right now. “First, you made me do all those stupid games with Zander at the pub last night.”
“Which clearly worked because you slagged off without me last night.” Phoebe waggles her eyebrows.
“I bailed on your plan and told him I wanted to sleep with him,” I state, propping my hands on my hips.
Phoebe shrugs. “So, you were inspired to go rogue. What’s wrong with that? Did you guys not have sex?”
“Oh, we had sex.” I laugh, and my cheeks flame at the flash of memory that assaults me.
“Good!” Phoebe nods excitedly.
“Not good!”
Phoebe’s face falls as she grabs a pink pillow and clutches it to her chest like a coat of armor. “Was it that bad? Soccer Boy has tons of big dick energy. I thought for sure he’d come packing.”
“Oh, he has a big dick. A very nice dick. In fact, probably the nicest I’ve ever had.” The image of him rolling that condom on with deft ease is burned into my brain for all of space and time.
“That’s brilliant. A good cock is half the battle,” Phoebe offers.
“But you never told me.” I run my hands through my tangled hair that I didn’t even brush before rushing over this morning. I tossed and turned all night so I’m sure I look a fright.
“Never told you what?”
“What it actually feels like!” I exclaim back at her, my entire body heating at the memory. “You and I have talked about sex ad nauseam. And I’ve described my past experiences to you in intricate detail. And you never ever told me.”
“Told you what? I am so confused.” She tosses her pillow at me. “You’re not some closet virgin, are you?”
I catch it and bite my lip. “I might as well be.”
“What the bloody hell are you talking about, Daph?”
I inhale a cleansing breath and hit Phoebe with the harsh reality I only learned mere hours ago. “Until last night, I had no idea that I’d never had a proper orgasm before.” I gesture toward my vagina like it’s going to nod its solemn approval with me.
Phoebe rises to her knees to grab my wrist and yank me down onto her bed. She touches her temples. “Wait, clarify for me because I have a crippling hangover, and I’m not sure I’m following. Did you have an orgasm with Zander Williams last night?”
