Page 35 of Screwed (Dad Bod Contracting 4)
“And then…” I shake my head. “If I’m going to actually tell you this, I need to sit down.”
I take my tea into the living room and curl up in my favorite spot: my gray suede recliner I’d found for twenty bucks at a resale shop. I blow across the top of my tea, and then take a sip.
“So, I had a panic attack. Planning the wedding for Imogen and Jesse brought up all these feelings I’d kept buried for years—I designed centerpieces and stuff that was pretty much exactly what I’d planned for my own wedding to Craig…the wedding that never happened, because he got cancer and died without ever even proposing.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. I thought I could do it, when I first agreed, you know? Like, it was years ago, I’m as over it as I can be, yada yada yada.” I sigh, and then laugh. “NOPE. Not over it. The further I got into the planning, the more I started thinking about Craig. About the wedding I’d had planned. I mean, I had a whole binder of stuff. Dress ideas, centerpiece ideas, bouquet ideas, venue locations, everything. And I guess I was sort of subconsciously using all that for their wedding, and it just brought it all back up. I was dreaming about Craig. About the wedding that never happened—I saw myself with him at the altar, and then he wasted away before my eyes in time-lapse. Like he did in real life, only in a matter of seconds instead of months. I’d wake up sobbing. And the deeper into planning I got, the worse it became.”
Audra winces in sympathy. “Shit, honey. No one blames you for quitting.”
“Oh no, Imogen totally got it when I told her. And apparently Franco and Jesse had had a wager on when I would quit planning the wedding. Not if…when.”
“Wow. I’ve got news for Franco. I’ll have to put a moratorium on spontaneous blowjobs for a week for that.”
I wave a hand dismissively. “Don’t do that.” I frowned quizzically at her. “Wait, though. How many spontaneous blowjobs do you give the man?”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “A lot. Let’s just say we don’t necessarily have sex every single day, but he definitely gets a nice O every single day. Sometimes twice in one day, if I’m feeling particularly frisky.”
My mind boggles. “How does that even work? Like, you suck him off in the morning and then fuck him at night?”
She nibbles on her lower lip. “He comes home for lunch most days. I’ve started scheduling free time around noon so I can go home for lunch, and he meets me in the kitchen. He makes us sandwiches, I suck his cock, he fingers me, we go our separate ways, and then we fuck while dinner is cooking. And sometimes again before we go to sleep.”
I just blink at her. “Holy shit, Audra.”
She shrugs. “I love the man, I love his cock, and he can make me come faster than anyone who’s ever laid hand, finger, tongue, or dick on me or in me. It’s mutually assured pleasure pretty much nonstop.” Another wiggle of her eyebrows. “Plus, this way, I know he can’t possibly want or need more than I’m giving him, which means I’m assured of his fidelity.”
I frown. “I’m not sure giving him that much sex just to make sure he doesn’t cheat is a good thing, Audra.”
She laughs. “Ahhhh, I’m just kidding. He loves me, and I love him. He’d never cheat on me, nor I on him—we both have serious history with unfaithful exes, so that’s a huge hot-button issue for us. I give him that much sex because I want it that much—I want him that much.” She glances at me. “You’ve never wanted anyone enough to fuck them twice a day more than just occasionally?”
I blush. “I mean, if I was to have access to James every time I had a sexual urge, he wouldn’t be able to walk.”
Audra snickers. “So you know exactly how it’s possible.”
“Theoretically, yes. In practice, not so much.”
“So…sounds as if your backstory is complete. But what actually happened?”
“I stayed at Laurel and Ryder’s farmhouse last week. I didn’t have any extra clothes with me, so I slept in a big old T-shirt of Laurel’s.”
Audra makes a face as if she’s trying to contain laughter. “She’s shorter than you and not as busty as you. How did you even fit in her shirt?”
I laugh. “I didn’t. I mean, it technically covered the essential bits, but in actual practice it didn’t really, um, conceal anything very well. Like, at all. I was pretty groggy when I woke up and wasn’t even thinking when I went downstairs—I was just following my nose to coffee and food.” I pause for effect. “And guess who was sitting at the table?”
