TOP TEN BESTSELLER

She’s never had an Orgasm, and I’m going to make up for that.

When Eloise walks into my tattoo parlor, she thinks she knows what she’s after — a piercing to help take her where no man can.

But I don’t want to help her the way she thinks.

I had a crush on her all the way through grade school.

The last time I saw her was seventh grade, when my life was falling apart.

Now she has the same cute pony tail as always but the rest of her grown-up body makes me hard just looking at it.

I’ll give her a piercing alright, and it will be the deepest one of her life.

Never had an O, welcome to Oh My God!

*** A steamy STANDALONE contemporary romance with a sizzling hot hero. No cliffhanger, no cheating, and a guaranteed happily-ever-after.***

1. Eloise

Trouble having orgasms? You need to read this!

The headline on the magazine cover catches my eye. It certainly applies to me. But I have no time to read it now.

I carry on laying out the new magazines in the waiting room. We’re about to open. My first patient will be here soon and I still have to go over his notes.

“Hey, sweetie,” my mom says as I pass her in the hallway. Her hair is the same almost-black color as mine. Like every day, it’s pulled back in a neat bun, and her glasses sit on the end of her nose.

“Morning, Mom,” I say, smiling at her.

“Are you coming for dinner tomorrow?”

“Don’t I always come for dinner every Saturday night?”

“I didn’t know if you had a better offer.”

“Unfortunately not. I have to settle for you and Dad.”

I haven’t had a date in months. After I broke up with Chet, my last boyfriend, I lost interest in dating and men in general. Probably because none of my ex-boyfriends ever satisfied me.

Marcy, our nosy receptionist, pokes her head around the corner and says, “Eloise, your first patient is here.”

“Okay, thanks. Send him to my room. Talk to you later, Mom.”

I quickly re-tie my ponytail and review his notes while he’s in the room. It’s not a complex case. He broke his shoulder two months ago and is now rebuilding the strength in his muscles. This is the third time I’ve seen him and I hope he’s been doing his exercises.

The most frustrating thing about being a physiotherapist is that half the time the people never do their exercises. There’s not much I can do to help them if they don’t.

My parents are both doctors, with their own medical practice. After I finished school, I joined the medical practice as an in-house physiotherapist.

It’s great that the three of us get along well and can work together. We are a close family, and I’m good friends with both my parents and my sister, Sophie.

Sophie’s currently studying medicine at the University of Rochester and plans on joining the practice when she finishes school. She still lives at home with them. I have my own apartment, but we all have dinner together once a week.

No matter how close we are, I still can’t discuss my inability to have an orgasm with them. I don’t know if it’s a medical issue or not anyway. I doubt it.

I don’t know what my problem is.

No boyfriend has ever been able to get me off. And I can hardly get myself off. It doesn’t matter what type of vibrator or sex toy I buy, nothing seems to help.

On rare occasions, I think I have an orgasm. Maybe. I’m not sure. It feels good, but not this mind-blowing experience our society makes an orgasm out to be.

For the rest of the day, I focus on my patients. Half of them have done their exercises, mostly the ones who’ve had broken bones or sprains.

After I finish, I casually walk into the waiting room, and slip the magazine that promises new information on orgasms into my backpack.

“Good night, Marcy,” I say, hoping she didn’t notice me take the magazine. She’s a stickler for the rules, and she’d probably tell my mother on me. I’ll bring it back first thing Monday.

“See you Monday,” Marcy says.

When I get home, I flop down on my couch and pull the magazine out of my backpack. I doubt it’s going to offer me any real solutions, but you never know.

I flip past umpteen glossy perfume and fashion ads until I come to the article.

Can a genital piercing solve your orgasm woes?

Genital piercing? I clench at the very idea.

Clitoral hood piercings are reported to dramatically improve a woman’s ability to climax because they stimulate the clitoris. We’ve talked to three women who have them to find out their experiences.

I read through the interviews, and all three women talk about how their piercings changed their lives.

“I’d never had an orgasm before my piercing, but now my boyfriend is able to give me at least one every time we have sex. It’s life-changing.”

“I didn’t know what I was missing before — now I encourage all my friends to get one!”

“Before I got my piercing I had small orgasms, but now the intensity is unreal.”

I sit up straight, my heart speeding. I’ve never heard of this before. It sounds too good to be true, and I’m always skeptical about these things. But I have to know more. Is there any truth to it?

Grabbing my laptop, I Google genital piercings. I spend the next hour reading and researching them. Everything I find backs up the magazine article. There are countless testimonials from women who’ve had them done and describe them as being life-changing.

There are three types of clitoral hood piercings. The most effective for increasing orgasms is something called a triangle. But apparently only a few women have the right shape of lips to get it.

Could I really get one? I start to wonder more and more. How much would it hurt? There are a lot of testimonials, but no one claims it works in one hundred percent of women. Would it work for me?

After eating a western omelet with toast for dinner, I flick on my Kindle and get back into the book I’m reading. Normally any book engrosses me. But this time when I get to the sexy bit, and it’s talking about mind-blowing waves overcoming her, my mind keeps wandering to the idea of a genital piercing.

I want mind-blowing waves.

Like every night, I go to bed at ten. I’m probably the only twenty-seven-year-old in the country who goes to bed so early, but I need my sleep.

Normally I’m out as soon as my head hits the pillow. Not tonight. I can’t stop thinking about the piercings, and if it really would mean having mind-blowing orgasms.

I flick on my phone, blink from the sudden brightness and Google more.

It says it’s also important to make sure you use a person who knows what they’re doing. No kidding.

Apparently it’s something you get done at a tattoo parlor. I’ve never been to a tattoo parlor. I don’t even think I know anyone with a tattoo. I turn off my phone, and roll the idea around in my head.

By two am, I’m convinced I have to do this. I have to try. The potential payoff is too high not to.

After an hour of tossing and turning I grab my phone and Google ‘Where to get a genital piercing in Rochester.’

There are two options — Hell in a Needle and Incredible Ink.

If I’m really going to go through with this, I don’t think it’s going to be in a place called Hell in a Needle. Besides, Incredible Ink is near the art galleries and studios in the Village Gate Square. I can maybe handle that, it makes it arty. Somehow, I’ll find the courage to phone Incredible Ink in the morning, before I have time to change my mind about going through with this.

Satisfied, I fall into a deep sleep and don’t wake up until nine-thirty. Normally I’m up every day at seven, even if it is a Saturday.

The first thought in my head is about the piercing. I’m just as determined as before to go through with it.

I Google the phone number for Incredible Ink. They open at ten. I have thirty minutes to work up the nerve.

Over two cups of coffee and a bowl of Cheerios, I get more and more excited by the idea. I want it now. I hope they can fit me in today. At one minute past ten, I hit dial.

2. Eloise

“Incredible Ink. Kaylee speaking,” a woman’s voice says.

Hearing another female on the line helps ease the tension in my body.

“Hello, I am interested in a piercing. A genital piercing.” I can’t freaking believe I just said that out loud. My heart pounds in my chest.

“Sure. What kind?”

“A clitoral hood?” My voice goes sky high as I say the words. I don’t know what’s more embarrassing, that I’m asking about this, or that it’s so obvious I’m out of my comfort zone.

“Do you have any other piercings?”

“My ears,” I say, my voice rising as if it’s a question.

There’s a pause at the other end of the phone before she says, “Do you mind if I ask why you’re interested in one?”

I swallow, working up the nerve to say it out loud. Finally, I say, “I heard it makes sex more satisfying.”

She chuckles, and says, “More satisfying is an understatement. Trust me.”

“Oh, you have one?”

“I have all three types that rub against your clit. Trust me, you want at least one. Your mind will be blown.”

“I could do with having my mind blown.”

“You know, before I had my first piercing, I’d never even had one before,” she says in a hushed tone.

“Me too,” I say, excited at this newfound sisterhood.

“Trust me, this’ll be the best thing you ever do.”

“Do you do them?” I ask, thinking it’s fate that Kaylee answered the phone.

“Absolutely. I have time at one o’clock.”

“Today?”

She laughs and says, “Yes, today.”

“Does it hurt?”

“It’s quick. A little pain for a lifetime of pleasure.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Would you like to come in then? I can see which type of piercing you’re suitable for. If you’re lucky, you can get the triangle. But don’t worry if you’re not, the vertical hood is good too.”

My heart hammers against my ribs. Can I do this? I need to do this. And now, before I chicken out.

I clear my throat and say, “Yes.”

“Great. I’ll see you at one.”

I give her my name and number and then I sit there for a few moments stunned that I did it. My hands are trembling so much it’s a struggle to hang up the phone. At the same time, heat blooms between my legs at the thought of my issue being solved. And today.

Rushing into my bedroom, I select my favorite vibrators and put in brand new batteries. I wonder how long it will be before the piercing will be okay to test out.

I spend far too long deciding what outfit to wear for my appointment with Kaylee. In the end I select a long peasant skirt because it’s loose fitting. I figure if it’s really sore, I can do a cowboy walk out of the tattoo parlor.

For the next three hours, I alternate pacing around my apartment with futile attempts at reading my book.

By the time I get in my car and drive to the tattoo parlor, I’m so nervous that even my toes are filled with butterflies.

I manage to park my Ford Focus right in front of the door. As I turn off the engine, I stare up at the Incredible Ink sign. I don’t know what to expect inside.

Part of me wishes I’d brought Sophie with me. But I could never explain why I’m here to her. At least not while keeping any of my dignity.

It’s okay, I keep telling myself. The person who works here is another woman. One who’s experienced my problem. I have nothing to feel scared or awkward about.

I take a deep breath, and step out of my car. Without breaking my stride, I push open the tattoo parlor door and step inside.

It’s empty.

The walls are covered with what I assume are tattoo designs. A black counter juts into the room. An opening is in the center of the back wall through to another room.

“Hello?” I call, moving towards the counter.

No one answers and I stand awkwardly, wondering what to do. On the counter is a small case of jewelry for piercings, and I stare into it.

Most of the jewelry is heavy and manly, but there are few pieces with jewels and pretty shapes.

“Coming,” a man says from the other room, his low voice gravelly.

I look up to see him emerging from the opening in the back wall. He’s pulling a T-shirt on over his head, and the first thing I see are his washboard abs, framed by a deep V. My eyes flick around taking in the rest of him while his T-shirt covers his face. Tattoos cover his strong chest and arms. Both of his nipples are pierced.

I don’t know whether to be scared or turned on.

My breath quickens and heat blooms through me, but my brain tries to calm my anxiety.

He’s definitely got the best body I’ve ever seen, and I say that as a physiotherapist who deals with bodies for a living. But all those heavy tattoos that coat his muscles make me wonder what kind of person he is.

As he pulls his shirt down and reveals his face, he catches me staring at him and smirks. My cheeks burn, but I can’t look away from his scruff-covered jaw and piercing brown eyes.

“I’m looking for Kaylee,” I say.

“You’re Eloise Hutchinson and you’re here for the genital piercing to help you orgasm.”

My heart stops and my eyes widen in horror. How did he say that so casually?

“Yes, I’m looking for Kaylee.”

“Kaylee’s gone. I’m Gabe, and I’m going to do it for you.”

My body freezes and I can’t speak. He holds my eyes in his, and I’m filled with a mix of fear and amazement.

No, not fear. Uncertainty and discomfort. Intimidation at being alone with a heavily tattooed, pierced man. In a tattoo parlor, of all places. Even though he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, and my body is betraying my brain.

“Don’t worry, I’m very professional,” Gabe says, his voice somehow deeper and more gravelly than before.

“I can come back when Kaylee’s here.”

“Kaylee isn’t coming back.”

“What happened to Kaylee?”

“Does it matter? I said she wasn’t coming back.”

“Oh,” I say, confused. “Do you have any other female piercers?”

“Nope.”

“I think I’ll feel more comfortable going somewhere with a female piercer.”

“Not in this town. There aren’t any.”

“Maybe I’ll have to drive somewhere then. Buffalo?”

“Could be a sore drive back.”

“I don’t think I can do this. Is it even safe for me to be here with you? Alone?”

“I told you, I’m a professional. This is my job, and I’d never do anything to risk the business I’ve humped my ass to build. You don’t need to feel awkward. I’ve done tons of clitoral hood piercings.” Gabe’s eyes bore into mine as he says the word clitoral, and I flinch.

Turning my head, I look at the jewelry case. I don’t know what to do. Can I go through with taking off my panties and letting a strange man touch me, pierce me, in my most intimate place?

“I need more time to think about this,” I say.

Before he has the chance to say anything else, I turn and move towards the door. I grab the handle and open the door.

“Just promise me you won’t go to that jackass at Hell in a Needle,” he says. “I’d hate for him to do a botch job on a nice girl like you.”

I turn back to him. Once again my heart pauses at the sight of him. “Don’t worry. There is no chance of me going someplace called Hell in a Needle.”

He smirks, and says, “I can do it with my eyes closed, if you prefer.”

My brow knits together. “Huh? How would that work?”

“It wouldn’t. But if it makes you feel any better, I can pretend I never saw anything.”

3. Gabe

Close my eyes like hell. When I heard Eloise Hutchinson was coming to my parlor for a genital piercing I had to be damn sure I was the one to do it.

At first, I didn’t think it would be the Eloise Hutchinson, the one I crushed on the entire way through grade school. She was so straight laced I thought there must be another Eloise Hutchinson in Rochester.

It’s definitely her. Her hair and big eyes are almost black, a sharp contrast to her porcelain skin. I used to think she looked like the doll my mother had in a display cabinet in our living room.

Her dark hair is pulled back in the same ponytail she wore every day when we were kids. I wonder if she’s worn it that way every day since I last saw her.

In seventh grade, I used to sit behind her and I’d tickle the end of her ponytail with my fingers and pencils and pens every chance I could.

I hated her guts the last time I saw her. It was my last day of school before we moved away. And as far as I was concerned, it was all her fault I had to move. Everything in my life was her fault.

I wasn’t sure how I’d feel when I saw her. But damn, she’s grown up even better than I’d imagined she would. One look at her, and the feelings of a childhood crush came right back.

Along with more grown-up feelings. I’d like to wrap my hands around her tight waist and back her up against the wall.

Hell, I don’t even know where I’d start with her. I’d wrap her ponytail around my hand and tug it, just to hear her squeal the way I used to make her squeal when I pulled it. Then I’d silence her with my mouth, and taste those delicate pink lips I’ve always loved.

Most of all, I want to show her what it’s really like to be fucked right. I want to turn her into a quivering mess, and make her brown eyes roll so far back into her head she’ll see her brain. Is she doing this for a mind-blowing orgasm? I’ll give her one so intense it’ll blow her head off.

I wonder if she remembers me.

Eloise stands in the doorway, clearly torn.

“You’ll be glad you did it afterwards. It’ll give you a lifetime of feelings you never knew existed.”

Every inch of her exposed skin turns red. She’s so pale, it was always so easy to make her turn red. But even now bright red, she holds her ground. She’d always held her ground. That’s one of the things I liked most about her. She was fun to toy with.

I figure she’ll walk out the door, but maybe come back another day when she’s had time to think it over.

She closes the door and says, “Okay, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

I’m shocked. My dick twitches at the knowledge Eloise Hutchinson is about to drop her panties for me.

“I’ll have to see which type of piercing suits you. Ideally, you want the triangle.”

“Right. Of course.” Her eyes avoid mine.

“You won’t regret it. See what jewelry you like while I prepare,” I say, pointing to the jewelry case.

Eloise gives a slight nod and shuffles to the case. I hurry into the back and lay a towel over my barber-style chair. Back at the front of the parlor, Eloise stands stiff in front of the counter.

“See anything you like?” I ask.

“Yeah, I like these ones, with the pretty blue jewels.”

Of course she does. Opening the drawer underneath, I pull out a few sample styles of the ones with the pretty blue jewels and a few boxes of new, sterilized ones.

“Okay, Jewel, I’m ready for you.”

She follows me into the back room, and I lead her to the chair at my station. She freezes and her eyes take in the four tattoo stations, each with its own barber-style chair. I motion for her to sit. Her breathing is heavy as she stands beside the chair in my station.

“What should I do?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Should I take my panties off?” Her cheeks blaze red.

I can’t help the massive smile that spreads across my face.

“It’d be helpful.”

“What about my skirt?”

“Nah, you can leave it on, just bunch it up around your waist.” It kills me to say that. Maybe I can talk her into a nipple piercing to get her top off.

She discreetly slips her hands under the waistband of her skirt and wiggles around. Taking her hands out of her waistband, she moves them under the hem of her skirt. A moment later, her panties are in her hand.

I watch in amazement throughout the whole thing.

“Ready,” she says.

“Take a seat.”

She backs into the chair, and flicks the back of her skirt up. Her ass plants on the towel, and she leans into the backrest. The front of her long skirt falls over her legs to her shins.

“Put your feet there and there,” I say as I raise the footrest.

Eloise does as I say, and I take a seat to begin my assessment. I squirt some hand sanitizer onto my palm and massage it in. Opening my bottom drawer, I pull out a new pair of latex gloves.

“I hate wearing latex gloves,” Eloise says.

I look up, and her dark eyes are wide, staring at me.

“Me too, but gotta follow protocol.”

She has no idea how much I hate these gloves right now. I want to feel her skin against mine. Why did I pull them out of the drawer?

While I pull them on, her eyes are fixated on my right hand. The back of it is covered in a roaring lion tattoo.

“I like your tattoo,” she says.

“Yeah? I didn’t figure you for much of a tattoo person.”

She shrugs, “I’m not really, but I love animals.”

“Yeah, you like lions?”

“Love them, but I prefer tigers.”

“Are they your favorite animal?”

“No, rabbits are my favorite.”

I chuckle. Of course she’d like bunnies best, look at her.

“I can always design you a fluffy little bunny to tattoo on your thigh.”

“Oh, no. I definitely don’t want a tattoo,” she says, her eyes wide and her head recoiled into the chair.

“Right, just the pussy piercing then.”

Eloise’s body shifts, and I regret saying the word pussy. It just slipped out. I hope she doesn’t run out of here.

“Well, I haven’t decided for sure yet. I need to know what I can have first. And some more information.”

“Information? Like what? The healing time? I thought Kaylee went over all that with you.” I drop my hands to my thighs, and continue. “It can take up to six months. It’s best if you clean the area with a saline solution several times a day. You can have sex while it heals, but you have to be careful. Gentle. No swinging from chandeliers. And you have to keep it clean so it doesn’t get infected. So no oral sex without a dental dam.”

Her eyes widen and then squeeze shut as I speak, and she looks more and more confused.

“Just tell your boyfriend to be cautious,” I say.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

That’s music to my ears. Not that I want to be her boyfriend in any way. I just want to fuck her.

“Okay, so the next guy you pick up in a bar has to go easy with you.”

“I don’t pick up men in bars,” she snaps, and moves to stand.

I block her escape route with my body, and say, “Sorry, I’m just joking around.”

“What happened to you being a professional?”

“I am professional. I’m trying to relax my nervous client.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“No?” I quirk an eyebrow at her.

“Fine. Wouldn’t everyone be in this situation?”

Without thinking, I put my hands on her thighs and rub them.

4. Eloise

Even with his gloves and my skirt separating our skin, something electric flies between us. I try to ignore it and focus on why I’m here.

“What about with just me?” I ask, my cheeks blazing.

Gabe furrows his brow for a moment before a look of understanding washes over his face.

“You mean solo play?” he grins.

Rolling my eyes, I say, “Yes.”

“I guess that depends on how hard you like to go at yourself.”

“Somehow I imagine it’s less vigorous than you go at yourself.”

He laughs, his shoulders jiggling. The rich sound cuts through the tension in the air, and I can’t help but laugh as well.

“You’ll be able to feel when it’s too much, but try not to rub the piercing. The most important thing while it heals is to keep the area clean. So if you use lube, be sure to wash when you’re done.”

I mentally picture my favorite vibrator sitting on my bedside table, waiting for me with fresh batteries. If I go through with this, will it be too sore to use today?

The thought of laying back on my bed in bliss fuels me with the need to carry through with this. Out of nowhere, the image of Gabe running his hands up my body and planting his lips on mine flashes through my mind. Heat rushes through my body at the thought.

“Do you have the same problem by yourself as you do when you’re with a guy?” Gabe asks, snapping me out of my daydream.

His hands are heavy on my thighs, grounding me to the chair. His intense eyes blaze into mine, and I’m unable to lie to him.

“Usually,” I admit.

“Well, a piercing will certainly help.”

“You really think so?” I ask, hopeful.

“You won’t know until you have it, but in my experience it will make a difference.”

I manage a weak smile. Gabe’s done a good job at relaxing me, but there’s still something about him that intimidates me.

“I hope so.”

“Are you ready for me to look?”

My chest explodes with butterflies, and my entire body trembles but I force myself to nod.

Gabe tilts his head, his eyes examining me. It’s as though he can tell how I feel on the inside.

“Did I tell you about the different jewelry options?” he asks, letting go of my thighs. The heat from his hands disappears and I realize how badly I want them back on my body.

Twisting in his chair, he picks up two of the boxes that he took from under the counter. He passes me them one at a time.

“You can go for the ring or the barbell. For the vertical piercing it’s probably better for your goal if you use the barbell. Same with the horizontal piercing. But most women who get the triangle go for the ring. We can hold these up and you can look in the mirror to see which you like best.”

“I don’t think I need to look in the mirror,” I say, shaking my head.

Gabe laughs again, and says, “Okay, but you’re going to be wearing these all the time. Are you sure you don’t want to know what they will look like?”

“I’m not doing this for aesthetics. Straight or curved makes no difference to me. These ones have pretty jewels on them, that’s good enough.”

“Suit yourself, Jewel,” he says, shrugging.

“If I have a choice, I like the ring best.”

“What would be best is if you can have the ring as a triangle piercing. Do you want me to have a look now?”

“Yes,” I say, more confident than before.

Gabe takes the jewelry samples from my hands and sets them back on his table.

He turns back in his chair to face me. My heart feels like it’s about to burst out of my ribs. I don’t know whether to lift my skirt. Does he do that? Maybe he can use it as a tent so I don’t have to see him while he’s looking at me.

The hem of my skirt reaches my shins, and I can’t reach it gracefully.

Without saying anything, Gabe places his gloved hands on my exposed calves. My heart leaps at his touch. I take a deep breath to try to calm myself.

His hands glide up my legs, pushing my skirt higher as they go. The pressure is gentle but firm, and leaves a trail of tingles in its wake.

His eyes follow his hands as they travel up my legs. The hem of my skirt flips over my knees. Inch by inch, my thighs are exposed.

The skirt hem reaches the tops of my thighs, and I’m sure he can see everything from where he’s sitting.

“Slide your ass down a bit,” he says.

I do as Gabe instructs, and the motion causes my knees to lift. He nudges my legs further apart, and I feel like I’m about to have an examination from the baddest doctor ever.

Gabe flicks his eyes up to mine, and for a moment we simply stare into each other. When the intensity of his gaze becomes too much, I chew on my bottom lip.

He gives my thighs a squeeze and lets go. Breaking our eye contact, he angles his head down and pushes the hem of my skirt up around my waist.

Leaning my head back into the chair, I look up at the ceiling and pretend I’m elsewhere. I want to think about reading a book on a beach. Instead, all I can think of is the feel of Gabe’s hands on my thighs.

Taking a deep breath, I wait for him to touch me again.

“Nice,” he says, though it seems he’s talking to himself and not to me.

His fingers make contact with my lips, and a thousand volts of electricity blast through me. My breath grows heavy.

This is ridiculous. I have to calm myself. Gabe’s being a professional, and I need to be as well. It’s absurd that my body is reacting this way.

Gabe gently pokes at me. His index finger runs up between my lips until he reaches the skin around my clit. With two fingers, he pulls back my hood, exposing my clit.

As he touches it, my walls flood and I inwardly thank him for putting down the towel. I tell myself this is a normal reaction, and it must happen every time he does this.

“So a vertical piercing would sit this way over your clit,” he says, tracing a vertical line with his finger. “And a horizontal like this.”

Unexpectedly, a deep moan escapes my throat, and I immediately blaze scarlet from head to toe. Other than my redness, I struggle to care about anything other than Gabe’s fingers.

“Eloise,” Gabe says, his voice sharp, and I realize he’s been talking to me.

“Yeah?” I say, my voice far too breathy to retain any dignity.

“Good news, it looks like you should be able to get the triangle piercing, but I’m going to make sure. Are you ready?”

I nod.

With his thumb and index finger, he pinches the skin underneath my clit.

“The triangle sits behind the clit, at its base. The piercing will rub up against it from behind, like this.” Gabe rubs his fingers together, simulating where the piercing would rub.

I clench my teeth together to stop from crying out. No one has ever touched me like that. I can’t believe how good it feels.

Why did my ex-boyfriend, Chet, only ever rub me like a genie’s lantern?

“You have the right anatomy. You could get all three, but you probably want to start with one. For your goal of sexual stimulation, the triangle’s the one you want,” he says, still holding the spot between his fingers.

I look down at the heavily tattooed man with pierced nipples. Ordinarily I would never let anyone like him touch me. Right now all I want to do is sit in his chair forever.

“Well?” he asks.

“Well what?”

A silence falls between us. He keeps moving his fingers, and my entire body hums and buzzes. My breathing is quick, and I’ve given up caring that I’m the color of a tomato.

After a few moments, Gabe says, “I’m not sure a piercing is what you need.”

5. Gabe

My dick is rock hard and hurts like a bitch in my jeans. I lean forward so she doesn’t notice.

The way Eloise is squirming under my touch makes it pretty clear that she doesn’t need a piercing to have an orgasm.

“What do you mean?” she asks. Her voice is a breathy gasp.

“I mean that I don’t think physical stimulation is your problem here.”

Eloise says nothing, and I keep my fingers where they are. I’d love to make her come right now, but not if she doesn’t want me to.

“Why do you say that?”

With my free hand, I lift up the edge of the towel and wipe some of the dripping wet from her pussy.

“It didn’t take much to make it all wet down here.”

“Doesn’t that happen to everyone?”

I look up at her and smirk. “Not usually.”

She’s already the brightest red I’ve ever seen anyone but I swear she just went redder.

“Oh God, how embarrassing.”

I would definitely like to hear her say oh God a few more times, right before she screams my name.

Holding her eyes in mine, I say, “I can show you right here.”

“Huh?”

“I can get you off right now if you want.”

Eloise straightens her body, though I still haven’t let go.

“What happened to being professional?”

With a slight shrug, I say, “I’d just be doing a favor for an old friend.”

She shuts her eyes, breaking our gaze. Without opening them, she says, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Didn’t Mrs. Singleton always tell us to help our friends whenever we could?”

Once again I start squeezing and rolling my fingertips. My face is a mere foot from her pussy and it takes all my self-control not to have one sweet taste.

Her eyes shoot open, and she studies me, searching her memory.

“Mrs. Singleton? What do you mean?”

“You don’t remember me? I’m hurt,” I say, teasing her.

“Did we go to school together? What did you say your name was?”

“Gabe.”

She thinks for a moment, and says, “Gabriel Irwin?”

“You got it.”

A huge smile spreads across her face, and she says, “You used to sit behind me in seventh grade.”

“Yep, in Mrs. Singleton’s class.”

“I thought you moved away,” she says, her brow furrowed.

“I did and then I moved back.”

“Well, this is awkward.”

“Why? It shouldn’t be,” I say.

“I’ve got a strange man’s fingers between my legs, and it turns out I went to grade school with him. Not awkward at all,” she says sarcastically.

“I always wondered what became of you.”

“I’m a physiotherapist. I work at my parents’ practice. Did you know they’re doctors?”

The mention of them wrenches my gut. “Yeah, I knew.”

“You used to get in trouble all the time because all you did was draw.”

The memories of Mrs. Singleton telling me I’d never amount to anything if I didn’t work on my English come flooding back and I laugh. All that drawing is what made me a success in the tattoo industry.

“Good thing I never listened to her.”

“One time you drew me a picture of an elephant. I taped it to the inside of my science binder and it stayed there all year. I even transferred it to my eighth grade science binder.”

I remember drawing that for her. I was too nervous to ask her to be my little girlfriend and I came up with a plan that I would draw her a picture she loved so much that she would automatically say I was her boyfriend. She took the picture but she never called me her boyfriend.

“You kept that after I left?”

“It was a good picture,” Eloise says, and smiles.

“I can draw you another picture if you like, and put it right here on your thigh,” I say, rubbing her upper thigh with my free hand.

“I already told you I don’t want a tattoo.”

“Do you still want the piercing?”

As much as I’d love to pierce this pussy, I want to make her come and I want all the credit for it. I don’t want her thinking it was because of the piercing. I need her to know it was all me, and have her begging me for more.

“Do you think it would help me?”

“I’m sure it would feel good, but I think your problem is you’re dating the wrong guys. You need someone who knows what they’re doing.”

She bursts out laughing, and says, “And let me guess, you know what you’re doing.”

Without saying anything, I start rolling my fingers again. Eloise swallows, and looks up at the ceiling. She’s not gonna stop me if I carry on now. She’s probably never felt this good before.

Her breathing quickens, and I realize she’s gonna let me do this. But suddenly I don’t know if I want to. I want to do it right with her, I want to feel her bare skin against mine. Not this latex glove bullshit.

I want her writhing underneath me.

Plus if I pierce her now, I won’t be able to taste her until she’s healed. Fuck dental dams.

“How about I buy you dinner first?”

Eloise shifts her eyes from the ceiling to me. “Dinner?”

“It’d just be two old friends having dinner. Followed by getting your mind blown.”

She doesn’t react, and it’s impossible to read her face.

“What about my piercing?”

“I want to make sure you’re serious and that you’ve had time to think it over, especially since it will affect your sex life for the next six months.”

“Why do you care so much all of a sudden?”

“Since I realized your problem may not be what you think it is. And that the piercing wouldn’t actually solve it.”

“So what’s my problem then? That I’ve never been with a man who knew what he was doing?”

“That too, but that doesn’t explain your solo problems.”

“So what is my problem then? In your clearly expert medical opinion.”

“You want the truth?”

“Yes, I want the truth. Of course I want the truth.”

“Well, judging from the way you were in grade school, you’re too worried all the time about everything being perfect. And that overthinking is getting in the way of your enjoyment.”

“Is that so?”

I flash her my biggest smile, and say, “It’s obvious. Haven’t you noticed how you started breathing easier ever since I brought this up? And I haven’t had to dry you off again.”

“Is that your excuse now? Because you’ve realized you won’t be able to do what you claim you can do?”

“Do you want to find out if I’m telling the truth or not? I’ll put some money on it, if you want. What do you say? Make things interesting?”

6. Eloise

This is insane. It doesn’t seem like it could possibly be real.

Yet here I am. In a tattoo parlor with my legs spread, and a heavily tattooed man is trying to get me off. A guy who, it turns out, I used to go to school with.

I remember Gabriel Irwin as being the kid who never paid attention, and was always in trouble for it. He used to try to distract me, pulling my ponytail and poking me in the back with his pencils.

It used to annoy me since I always wanted to do well at school and be the best student in the class.

Never in a million years did I ever think I’d find myself with him like this.

But the way he’s touching me is unreal. It’s actually the most unreal element of what is happening. Because no one has ever made my body feel so incredible before.

What do I do?

He actually bet me he could make me have an orgasm. And a mind-blowing one. Just like in the books I read.

“Fine, get me off,” I say, huffing.

“You’re taking my bet?” Gabe sounds surprised.

Choosing to ignore the bet comment altogether, I say, “Just do it, if you’re going to.”

“Well I don’t know if I can right now.”

“What?” I exclaim, my back filling with tension.

“You’re overthinking it again. You need to be relaxed.”

“Are you serious?”

“You need to clear your head.”

“See, you’re full of it. You can’t get me off.”

“Only one way to find out.” His mouth forms a half smile.

“So do it, already.” My foot raises and drops in frustration.

“It’s not going to happen now, you’re too worked up.”

I roll my eyes and say, “You can’t just say you’ll do it one second, and then back out the next.”

“I’m not backing out. I’m discussing the timing,” he says, chuckling.

“Is this your way of getting me to go for dinner?”

“It’s my way of making your body feel things you’ve never felt before.”

“That’s what the piercing is supposed to do.”

The piercing was the entire reason I came here. It’s the thing that’s supposed to make me orgasm. Not to be fingered by some random guy who works in a tattoo parlor.

“The piercing is great, but I’m telling you that in your case it’s probably not going to make you get where you want to go.”

“Because I’m uptight,” I snap.

“Your words, not mine.”

If my body wasn’t on fire right now, I’d storm out of here. I’d run away, offended, and forget today ever happened. But Gabe’s fingers still have my clit between them, and there’s no way my body will let me go anywhere.

Even if I did know him when we were kids.

The longer I sit here and let the whole thing run through my mind, the more and more uncomfortable I get. It would be easier if we hadn’t known each other when we were kids.

I wish he hadn’t told me.

Gabe leaves his fingers where they are, and places his other hand on the very top of my thigh. Maybe he’s going to finger me. Shifting my gaze to the ceiling, I brace for it.

There’s a watermark on the ceiling, just to the left of where I’m sitting. I can’t remember if this is a two-story building or not. It must be. I think all the ones around here are.

Whatever’s above here had a leak. I wonder what’s up there. An apartment?

“Jewel, this isn’t going to work.” Gabe’s voice is loud, and I flinch.

“It isn’t?”

“If you really want me to get you off, I’m going to need you to look at me. That way I know you aren’t going off into your daydreams.”

“You had a leak,” I say, pointing up.

Gabe’s eyes follow my hand. “It was my dishwasher.”

“You live upstairs?”

“Yeah, I own the whole building.”

“That’s an easy commute—” Gabe tugs gently on my clit, silencing me.

My head rolls against the chair, loosening my ponytail. Gabe’s looking straight at me. When our eyes connect, his eyes bore into mine, electrifying me.

This is wrong.

This is naughty.

But years of desperation wanting to know what the heroines in my books are feeling keeps me where I am. Though I’m starting to think Gabe’s all talk. Even if my body is buzzing.

“I’ll be honest with you,” Gabe says. “It’ll feel a lot better for you if I use my mouth. My tongue is a lot better than my fingers.”

“I don’t know, your fingers seem pretty competent to me.” As I say the words, my mind races over the possibility of letting him use his mouth on me and the thought makes my heart race.

How far am I willing to go to feel waves of pleasure wash over me?

“I promise you, you’ll be thanking me for the rest of your life.”

The door to the outside bangs and footsteps drag over the tiled floor. Gabe doesn’t react. I remain in place, though I fix my eyes on the entrance to the room.

“That’s Ryan, my business partner. He never picks his fucking feet up when he walks,” Gabe says.

I stiffen, but Gabe continues to roll my clit in his fingers.

A scary-looking bald man with tattoos across the side of his head walks into the back room, and says, “Now that’s what I call working through lunch.”

Gabe yanks his hand away and pulls my skirt down in one quick movement. “Dude, go have another coffee.”

“Can’t. A client’s due in ten minutes, I have to prepare,” Ryan says casually.

“So tell him to fucking wait,” Gabe says.

“Just do the fucking piercing already,” Ryan says.

“Oh God, don’t tell me he knows why I want the piercing,” I say under my breath.

Gabe smirks and I want to wipe the look off his face. “He only knows what you’re getting, not why you want it.”

“I’m getting it again, am I?”

“You were always getting it,” he says, massaging the sides of my calves.

“For fuck’s sake, can’t you two get a room? This is a workplace, I don’t want to see that.”

“Fuck off, I’ve never complained about anything you do,” Gabe says, glaring at him.

“This is too weird, I’m sorry. I have to go.”

I force myself past Gabe and out of the chair.

“No need to rush off,” he says and I ram my feet into my shoes.

“What’s the matter, darling? Did I scare you away?” Ryan says to me.

If I thought Gabe was intimidating, Ryan is downright scary, and I scurry out of the backroom and straight out of the main door. Fumbling for my keys, I open my car and get in.

The situation turned so fast, but maybe it was a blessing in disguise. I got carried away, and Ryan’s arrival brought me back to my senses. Back to the person I actually am instead of the one I was pretending to be for the afternoon.

The entire drive home, all that goes through my brain is what on earth were you thinking?

7. Eloise

By the time I reach my apartment, I’m cursing myself in shame. I can only hope Gabe and Ryan never breathe a word of what happened to anyone. I’d like to think I can forget the whole thing ever happened, but I know that’s impossible.

Not after the way Gabe made me feel. Somehow I’m sure he’ll be filling my fantasies for the foreseeable future.

Slipping my key in the lock, I open my front door. Hurrying to my fridge, I crack open a cold Diet Coke. After several gulps, I hold the can to my cheek and let the coolness radiate throughout my body.

Only then do I realize I left my panties at the tattoo parlor.

Great.

Clearly I’m not going back for them. I can only hope Gabe throws them out instead of hanging them on his wall like some kind of trophy.

God, I hope he doesn’t use them as some sort of masturbation aid. The idea makes me feel sick to my stomach.

With my drink in hand, I head to the living room and plunk myself on the couch.

I take another gulp of my drink. The bubbles fizzle down my throat and chest, reminding me of the way Gabe’s touch caused tingling in my chest. My legs. My entire body.

As much as I try to ignore the urge, I can’t help myself any longer. Pulling my skirt up around my waist, the same way it was at the tattoo parlor, I reach my hand between my legs.

My fingers skim over my mound, which is still sensitive. In an attempt to recreate Gabe’s touch, I pinch the area behind my clit with my finger and thumb.

Somehow it doesn’t feel as good. I close my eyes, and remember the heat of his eyes as he touched me.

My walls contract at the memory. His fingertip was so close to my entrance and I was desperate for him to go further. Now I’m relieved he didn’t. It’s a leap too far from my regular life.

At the same time, I wonder how he could have made me feel. Would he have been able to make me orgasm?

I churn the question over and over in my mind, and realize I’m doing exactly what he said my issue is. Overthinking.

In a rash movement, I stand and rush into my bedroom. Without slowing, I grab my favorite vibrator and flop onto the bed.

My walls are slick, and I insert it into me on full speed. With my other hand, I grab my clit again. But it still doesn’t feel as good as the way Gabe made me feel.

I picture the way he looked when he first emerged from the back room, when he was putting on his shirt. His physique was unreal. His tattoo-coated muscles and pierced nipples were somehow so forbidden and naughty.

I remember the way he made me feel when he touched me, which was even more forbidden and naughty.

I imagine him with my panties, running his fingers along the blue lace while he thinks about me.

My body buzzes and builds, the way it had when I was sitting in his chair. Thoughts pop into my mind, wondering if this is actually about to happen, but I’m able to push them away with the memory of Gabe’s gravelly voice telling me to stop overthinking things.

Then one word pops into my head. Dinner.

It’s one word I can’t push away, no matter how hard I try. Everything fizzles out. I can’t get involved with Gabe. We’re too different. Even if we did know each other as kids.

The buzzing noise of the vibrator becomes deafening. I switch it off and toss it onto the floor in frustration.

I’m more upset than I should be. At least that’s what I tried to reason. The last twenty-four hours have been a crazy blip in my incredibly normal life. And it’s all the fault of that magazine article.

Overwhelmed, and exhausted from not sleeping well last night, I let myself fall asleep and nap.

I wake up feeling groggy and disoriented two whole hours later. My parents are expecting me for our weekly dinner in less than thirty minutes.

After a quick shower, I blow dry my hair and tie it back in a ponytail. I throw on some chinos and a navy blouse and head out the door.

I park my Focus behind my mother’s Range Rover and beside my father’s BMW 6 Series. Sophie’s little Mazda is parked closest to their front door.

It’s the house I grew up in and I’m always overcome with the feeling of nostalgia when I come back. I love knowing there’s somewhere I’m always welcomed and wanted. Not to mention loved.

“Hey Mom, hey Dad,” I call as I enter the house.

“Hi sweetie, you’re late. Done anything exciting today?” my mother asks.

My cheeks flush, and I curse myself for going red so easily.

“No, just a relaxing day at home.”

She scrunches her mouth up as she looks at me, no doubt wondering why I turned red.

My dad enters the room just in time. He walks straight up to me, leans over and kisses my cheek. The soft sleeve of his cashmere sweater brushes over my arm in the motion.

He and Sophie are both blue-eyed blonds. I was always jealous of Sophie’s hair when I was younger. I hated having such dark hair, especially since I’m as pale as her. Naturally, as my sister, she took advantage of this and always teased me.

“Dinner will be about forty-five minutes,” my mother says.

“What are we having today?” I ask.

“Your favorite, lasagna.”

“With a Caesar salad?” I ask, my stomach rumbling at the idea.

“Of course,” my dad says, and winks.

The three of us sit on the living room couches. My parents had the room done up by an interior decorator three months ago, and everything still new and pristine. The room is perfect, and I’m afraid of damaging anything.

The conversation between us flows easily, as always. I lose track of the time as we chat.

“Hey you,” Sophie says, bounding into the room. She’s twenty-four and has too much energy for her own good.

She flops onto the couch beside me, not sharing my concerns about how to treat the new furniture.

“You’re just in time to get the lasagna out of the oven,” my mother says to her.

“I’ll help,” my father says.

“The table’s already set,” my mother says.

The four of us sit down to eat at their big, oak dining table. The food is delicious and I concentrate on eating it rather than keeping up with the conversation.

When we’re finished, I say, “I’ll do the dishes.”

“I’ll help,” Sophie says, standing.

Together, we stack the dishes, piling the cutlery on top. Sophie carries them to the kitchen while I get the lasagna pan.

In the kitchen, I set the remaining lasagna on the island, intending to cover it and put it in the fridge for leftovers. Sophie sets the dirty dishes beside the sink and gets herself a beer from the fridge.

“Okay, spill,” Sophie says, cracking open her drink.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Give me a break, I’m your sister and best friend. I think I can tell when something’s on your mind. And by the way you were zoned out the whole way through dinner, I’m guessing it’s a big something.”

“It’s nothing big,” I say, shrugging.

“If that’s the case then what is it?”

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

“You need to tell me what it is, and you need to tell me now.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else I’ll tell Mom I’m worried about you because you’re hiding a secret from us all. She’ll be on your case ‘til the end of time.” Sophie smirks, and takes a big swig of her beer.

“Fine. I accidentally left my panties in a tattoo parlor.”

Sophie spits out her beer and quickly reaches for some paper towels. In her rush, she knocks the four stacked plates onto the floor, shattering them.

“Girls?” my mother calls.

“It’s fine, Mom. We just knocked the plates off the counter,” Sophie says.

“We?” I quirk an eyebrow at her.

“You’d better start spilling and fast.”

“Can’t, I have to get the broom. Butterfingers.”

“Fine, just don’t expect me to tell you what I do with my panties every night.”

Her comment halts me in my tracks.

“What do you do with your panties every night?”

“You first.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it. It’s too soon.”

“Well, you know where to find me when you’re ready. But you’d better be ready by dinner next week.”

I stick my tongue out at her and walked to the broom closet. We clean up the mess together as well as all the dishes. Sophie doesn’t bring up the panties comment again. And I love her for it. Too bad I can’t find the courage to confide in her. Yet.

On the drive home, I wonder if I really can discuss my problem with Sophie. We’re incredibly close, but it’s an incredibly personal issue. Not to mention embarrassing that I let some random guy in a tattoo parlor do that to me.

8. Gabe

“For fuck’s sake, Kaylee, I am not paying you today,” I growl into the phone.

“But it’s only one day early. Please, I need the money,” Kaylee says, pleading.

“No way in hell. You’ve already caused me enough problems.”

“Bullshit, you just wanted me out of the way.”

I don’t feel the need to respond to her comment.

“You’ll get your money tomorrow, end of story,” I say.

“Hope you had fun piercing that chick you were so interested in.”

I ignore her again.

“Anything else?” I ask.

“You know, now that I think about it, the timing of when you fired me sure is interesting.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“What I mean is, would I still have a job if someone named Eloise Hutchinson hadn’t decided she wanted a piercing?”

“Tomorrow,” I say, and hit end call.

Kaylee was always a pain in the ass. I only kept her around as long as I did because some people prefer having a female work on them. And she’s a damn good artist. But I’d never tell her that.

I glance at the time on my phone. Two o’clock, almost time for me to go. Wednesdays and Thursdays are my days off. Ryan is in control of the parlor today.

Yesterday, Wednesday, I spent the day fucking around doing nothing. I was supposed to see a redhead I met a couple weeks ago, but I canceled. I’ve lost interest in her.

But I did finally get around to doing something I’ve needed done for ages. Make an appointment to get my stiff shoulder looked at.

My right shoulder tenses when I’m working on a tattoo, and now it’s always stiff and sore.

From the pile in my bedroom, I grab a pair of black jeans and pull them on, followed by a white T-shirt from the light colored pile of clothes.

It’s a beautiful day, and I take my Harley.

The medical center is the same as I remember it, and my gut wrenches.

I snarl as I enter the building but push my feelings aside with the memory of Eloise’s pussy. She was crazy responsive to my fingers, and I want more. I want to give her more, and see just how incredible I can make her feel.

The inside is different. It looks brand new. The floors are oak and the walls are hung with what looks like original artwork. I stop in front of a few of the pictures, the ones that catch my eye.

One is of a street scene, in what looks like New York City. I like the way there are trees in an otherwise urban setting. Another painting that catches my eye is of a woman. She’s at a lake, and sitting with her feet dangling off a dock. It’s the look on her face that’s most intriguing. She looks haunted despite being in a beautiful place, and I wonder what’s on her mind.

I arrive at the imposing oak reception desk. A woman sits behind it, working on a computer. She’s wearing a name tag. Marcy. She doesn’t look like a Marcy. I don’t expect a Marcy to wear glasses and have curly hair.

I don’t say anything, instead I look around at the waiting room, trying to suppress my memories.

“Oh!” Marcy exclaims, putting her hand to her chest. “I didn’t realize you were standing there.”

“I have an appointment at three o’clock for physiotherapy.”

Marcy doesn’t reply. Her eyes are stuck on my arms. Her hand is still on her chest, and it’s visibly moving up and down with her heavy breath.

I’m used to this reaction and wait patiently for her to say something.

She squeezes her eyes shut and opens them again, shaking her head.

“And your name is?”

“Gabe Irwin.”

“Have a seat. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

“Sure. Do me a favor, don’t tell her my name.” I smile and wink.

Marcy’s hand stops moving altogether. At some point she’ll remember to breathe. I turn away from her, and find a seat.

I glance over the magazines on the table. One catches my eye. It’s half hidden under three other magazines but it’s impossible to miss the word orgasm.

Moving the other magazines off it, I pick it up, revealing the full sentence.

Trouble having orgasms? You need to read this!

A smirk plastered on my face, I flip open the magazine to find the article. But I already know what it’s going to say. Now I know where good, sweet Eloise learned about genital piercings.

“I’m ready…” Eloise’s voice trails off.

I look up from the magazine. She looks even better than the way I’ve been picturing her all week with my cock in my hand. She’s in black pants that are tight and a black blouse that shows off the swell of her tits. My dick twitches at the sight of her.

Standing, I toss the magazine on the table, and walk over to her.

“Ready for me?”

“What are you doing here?” Her eyes are wide. She looks at Marcy, who is staring at us, and quickly says, “Come with me.”

In a flash, Eloise turns on her heels and rushes off. I follow her, thinking how much I would like to come with her.

We enter a small room with the massage table in the center of it. Eloise closes the door behind us.

“Why are you here?” she asks, her eyes wild.

“My shoulder’s fucked up. Plus I had to bring you back your panties.” I pull her panties out of my pocket and dangle them from my index finger.

Eloise lunges and snatches them from my hand. She turns beet red, just like I knew she would.

“You should’ve thrown them away,” she says as she crams them in the nearby drawer. “Why did you come here?”

“I told you, my shoulder’s fucked up.”

“I can’t believe you came to my work. Saturday was something I want to forget ever happened.” Eloise squares her body in front of me, her eyes fierce.

Resisting the urge to lift my hand and brush my fingers down her cheek, I say, “You’re the only one talking about Saturday.”

“You’re here for physiotherapy? You can’t be serious.”

“I keep telling you, my shoulder’s fucked up. I don’t know how many more times I can say it.”

She screws up her mouth, her eyes searching mine. Without blinking, I hold her gaze, daring her. She’s going to treat my shoulder, run her hands over my muscles, massaging me. I can’t fucking wait.

“Lift your arms over your head,” she commands. I follow her order. “Now hold them out at your side. And to the front. Now circle them.”

Eloise watches intently as I do everything she says. She falls silent, and I cross my arms in front of me.

“Well?” I ask.

“You definitely have less range on your right side. Is there pain?”

“It gets sore, yeah.”

“What is that on a scale of one to ten?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

She rolls her eyes and says, “Like, does it hurt a little bit? A lot? When you use it? In bed at night?”

“I know one way to make the pain stop at night.”

“Are you here for treatment, or to pick me up?”

“Maybe a little of both.”

“If you really want treatment, you’re going to have to behave.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Take your shirt off.”

My dick twitches from her order. I clear my throat and tug my shirt off over my head. Even while my shirt is still covering my face, I can feel the heat of her eyes burning into me.

She closes the distance between us, and asks, “Is it okay if I touch you?”

There’s no way of answering that without pissing her off, so I just nod.

9. Eloise

My panties are on fire. It’s a good thing Gabe brought my other panties back because I’m going to have to change into them when he leaves.

Gabe had his shirt off when I first saw him at the tattoo parlor, but I wasn’t standing this close to him. Intricate tattoos coat his body, and I could stand here for ages looking at them.

Except it’s difficult to know where to look, at the tattoos or the chiseled body they coat. I try my hardest not to stare at the piercings in his nipples.

Somehow, without him even touching me, my body buzzes the way he made it feel on Saturday. I am overcome with the urge to nestle against him.

Blinking, I gather some self-control and step back.

“Lay face down on the bed,” I say, pointing.

Without saying anything, Gabe lies on the bed and I break apart the thin paper over the face hole so he can rest comfortably.

I shift my eyes from his head, down his body. Tattoos cover his back. I’ve had patients with lots of tattoos before, but never anyone with near as many as this. His back is thick with muscles. At least there are no piercings.

Trying to ignore my sopping wet panties, I focus on his shoulder.

I ball my hands into fists a few times to get them to stop trembling so much.

Positioning my body near his right shoulder, I hover my fingers over him. I swallow hard, and drop my hands on to Gabe. A zap of electricity hits me, and I pull my hands away.

Gabe flinched too, I think.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his gravelly voice doing nothing to help my situation.

“Fine, yes. Just assessing you.”

“I hope you like what see.”

“You know, I don’t remember you having nearly as much confidence when we were in school.”

“I was a kid.”

“And now?”

“Now I’m a man.”

“All man,” I say before my brain can stop me.

Gabe chuckles, his muscles rippling as he laughs. I have to control myself. Why does he make me lose my mind?

“You like it, do you?”

“We’re being professional now, remember?”

“Right, I forgot. Because you’re the one not being professional.”

“Enough,” I say, planting my hands on his back without thinking.

His warmth radiates from my hands and throughout my body. Even my toes heat from the feel of him under my fingers.

Focus. This man is here for a stiff shoulder.

I massage my hand along the line of his shoulder blade. The muscle fibers are very tight.

“You’re really stiff,” I say.

“You have no idea,” Gabe says, and adjusts his hips.

“I meant your shoulder.”

“Of course you did.”

“I did,” I protest.

“Remember Mrs. Singleton’s sayings?”

I smile. “She used to have a saying for everything.”

“Right now she’d tell you your focus needs more focus.”

“Isn’t that what she always said to you?”

“I’m surprised you remember. You were always too busy looking at the blackboard to notice me.”

When we were kids, Gabe always tried to distract me from my work. He almost always sat behind me, because most of our teachers arrange the students alphabetically by last name.

“I remember you pulling my hair.”

His shoulder really needs loosening up, and I squirt some oil onto my hands. I resume working on his shoulder, fighting the urge to run my hands over the rest of his hard body.

“It was fun making you scream.”

“It was annoying is what it was.”

“Not for me it wasn’t.”

We fall into a silence while I knead my thumbs into his muscles. I try my hardest not to think of his offer of dinner, knowing how hard it would be to resist him if he asked again.

I’ve never had a one-night stand. I’ve never hooked up with a guy on a sex-only basis. I’ve never even had a friend with benefits.

Gabe is the furthest thing from boyfriend material I can imagine, but I can’t see myself having meaningless sex.

Even if he has already had his fingers down there. And made me feel better than any boyfriend I’ve had.

Why is he here, anyway? Sure, his shoulder is genuinely tight. But me? Now? He must expect more.

This seriously can’t happen. I need to put that at the front of my mind.

“Sit up,” I say.

Gabe sits, his legs hanging over the side of the bed. His jeans are tight and ripped, and show off his leg muscles. I make a point not to look.

I also make a resolution to wipe Saturday from my mind, even when I’m in bed at night with my vibrator.

“Hold your arm out, I’m going to loosen it more.”

He lifts his right arm, and I wrap it around my back. Moving my entire body, I rock back and forth to get into his tight muscles.

It’s definitely getting looser.

Just like my earlier resolution that is all of sixty seconds old.

Our bodies are close, and each inward rock brings our torsos an inch apart before the cruel outward rock separates us again.

Heat from his eyes burn into my cheeks, and I fix my eyes on the floor.

At least I try to.

It’s impossible not to notice the bulge in his jeans, and I struggle to keep my eyes from it.

“Is this a real physio thing?”

“What?”

“This, having my arm around you while you jiggle around.”

“Of course it is.”

“It seems very,” he pauses, “intimate.”

“I’m loosening your shoulder. It’s kind of hard to do that from across the room.”

“Now that I think about it, my hip’s been pretty stiff as well.”

Exhaling strongly, I let go of his arm and step away from him.

“Okay, I think that’s good for now. Let me give you some stretches to do at home.”

“I prefer massages to stretches.”

“You want your shoulder to get better?”

“It’s feeling better already. It seems you’re all it needs.”

“You can put your shirt back on now.” It kills me to say that.

“If you’re sure,” he says, smirking.

I shrug, trying to seem like I don’t care. Gabe slips his hands to the armholes and pulls the shirt over his head, shoulders and washboard abs. I watch, mesmerized. When the last speck of his chest is covered, I sigh.

He plays along as I show him a few stretches but it’s obvious he’s never going to do them.

“Same time next week?” he asks.

Good question, I think. I busy myself making notes in his file while I contemplate the question.

“Unless you want to have dinner before that,” he says, with a coy smile on his face.

Even though I’ve been bracing for it since his arrival, the question stops my heart.

“Not going to happen,” I say, shaking my head and chewing on the end of my pen.

“It’s going to happen, it’s just a question of when. How long do you want to torture yourself before you give in and let me blow your mind?”

I swallow hard, unable to say a thing and hating the fact that I’m so red I’m glowing.

Gabe steps close to me, puts his mouth to my ear and says, “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you.”

My knees threaten to buckle, and I fight to keep from it being noticeable. Gabe pulls back from me and moves to the door.

As he crosses the threshold, I say, “You might be waiting a long time.”

Without breaking stride, he turns his head and says, “Worth it,” before vanishing from my view.

10. Eloise

“Two more margaritas coming up,” the waitress says, tapping the table with her fingers.

Good. Maybe after another drink I’ll be able to tell Sophie everything I need to get off my chest. I thought two would be enough, but evidently I need a third.

It’s Saturday, and I haven’t been able to get Gabe out of my head since the physio session. Neither has Marcy. All day yesterday I had to listen to her talk about him.

Today was even worse. Being home alone in my apartment meant my brain spent every single second of the day thinking about him.

I broke down and called Sophie just after lunch. I told her I needed to talk about the panties I’d left in the tattoo parlor, but that there was no way I could do it sober.

Thankfully she came up with the plan of sending our parents to dinner and a movie. Sophie made a big deal about it, saying they deserved a date night because they never go out, and that it would be our treat.

At first, Mom protested, saying she’d miss us and that we all should go but Sophie put her foot down and demanded they go and promised we’d both be there for lunch tomorrow.

“Start spilling,” Sophie says, licking the rim of her empty margarita glass.

I try to work out where to begin. My eyes search the bottom of my glass for answers. I lift the glass up and toss my head back, coaxing the last drop out of it.

Plunking the glass back on the table, I say, “The tattoo guy showed up for a physio session, and brought back my panties.”

“No fucking way,” Sophie says, her mouth hanging open. Alcohol turns her into a potty-mouthed sailor.

Our waitress arrives at the table carrying two fresh drinks. She sets them on the table in front of us, and says, “Here you go, enjoy.”

I lift mine and take a massive gulp, trying to find the courage I need.

“Turns out he’s got a stiff shoulder,” I say.

Sophie’s eyes pop open, and she says, “You actually treated him?”

“I did. I had my hands all over his muscles.”

“So he’s hot?”

“Marcy hasn’t stopped talking about him. It’s annoying the hell out of me.”

“What does he look like? Tell me what he looks like!”

“He’s got brown hair and brown eyes,” I say, smirking.

“And is muscular.”

“Yep.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Fuck off. Give me the details. Maybe I can call Marcy, invite her here now. She never goes out. I’m sure she’d love to come tell me all about him.”

I take another gulp of my drink. And this is the easy part, I haven’t gotten to the juicy bits yet. The waitress walks past our table and I flick my hand out.

“Two more, please,” I tell her.

She laughs, and says, “No problem. Here’s to a good night.”

“You need to be that drunk to tell me what he looks like?”

“He’s tall and built like a Greek god with the intense stare to match. His chest, arms, hands and back are covered in tattoos. And both his nipples are pierced.”

“Oh my God, Marcy must’ve shit herself.”

“Yeah, she told Mom and Dad that we have a scary new patient. She even said he might be a criminal.”

Sophie throws herself back against her chair and cackles. “She’s such a tit.”

“I had to step in and defend him, explaining he’s a tattoo artist. At which point Marcy fell against the wall, fanning herself.”

“What did Mom and Dad say?”

“They gave her their sternest look of disapproval and said they hoped she behaved professionally around him.”

Sophie sits up straight again, still laughing. She’s never liked Marcy and always loves hearing stories about her. “And did they tell you to be professional with him?”

“No, why would they?”

“Because he had your panties. Obviously you’ve got something unprofessional going on with him.”

Holding my head high, I say, “I am always professional.”

“Then why did he have your panties? And why the hell were you at a tattoo parlor anyway?”

I down the rest of my drink, still not sure how to say what I need to say.

“Tell me,” she barks, “these drinks are on me if you spill it.”

“You can’t afford these overpriced cocktails.”

“Oh, but I can,” she says, grinning from ear to ear.

I’ve never understood how a med student always has so much cash. She’d better not be sucking money from Mom and Dad.

“How?”

“Since it will make you feel better, I’ll tell you my panties story now. But you can’t think less of me,” she says, pointing at me.

“Don’t worry, I already think very lowly of you.”

“You want to know how I get all my extra money?”

“Yes, it’s always been a mystery to me.”

“Every night, I sell the panties I wore that day in an online auction. Now I have this big following, and guys pay a fortune for them. It’s hysterical.”

“And creepy.” What is she thinking? It’s so gross. Mom and Dad would freak if they knew.

“I know, they’re real pervs. But it keeps me in the lifestyle I have become accustomed to.”

I roll my eyes, and it makes me feel dizzy from the booze. “You’re nuts.”

She raises an eyebrow, and says, “Yeah, your turn.”

“Fine. I went to the tattoo parlor to get a genital piercing,” I blurt.

Sophie chokes on her drink and has a coughing fit. I wait patiently for her to compose herself, still wondering why she sells her panties. The waitress rushes over with a glass of water, and Sophie calms herself enough to take a drink.

“You got a genital piercing?” she asks, her voice raspy.

“No,” I shake my head. “I was going to, but he, Gabe, didn’t want to give me one.”

“Why?”

I hold my drink up in front of me, and lick some of the salt from the rim. Hiding behind it, I say, “I wanted the piercing so I could have an orgasm, but he says he can give me one without the piercing. So now I don’t know what to do.” I take two big gulps of the drink.

Sophie says nothing while I drink. She stares at me, her eyes in disbelief. Setting the drink back on the table, she still says nothing, so I take another sip.

“What you do mean, Eloise? Are you saying you’ve never had an orgasm?”

I nod.

“Okay. I mean, I tell you this as a medical student. Studies have shown men are selfish shits in bed. Did you know that most lesbians have orgasms every time they have sex, but straight women don’t? What does that tell you?”

“Are you saying I should sleep with a woman?”

“No. Unless you want to,” Sophie shrugs. “What I’m saying is you need a man who isn’t a selfish little shit.”

“So you think I should let Gabe try?”

“Well, if he can do what he says he can, you sure as hell won’t regret it. Because let me tell you, you’re really missing out.” Sophie points her finger at me with each word.

“I’ve never had meaningless sex before.”

“No time like the present to start.”

Sometimes I wonder how we’re related.

“There’s something else I didn’t tell you.”

“What? That he fingered you at the tattoo parlor?”

My face flushes, and I hope she won’t notice.

“Not quite, he offered to.”

“I think you’re full of shit, but whatever. What is the thing you’re not telling me?”

“We went to grade school with him!”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Gabriel Irwin, you probably don’t remember him because he left when I was in seventh grade.”

“Did he have a younger sister? There was a Melanie Irwin in my class who left halfway through the year.”

“Yes, that was his sister. Why did they leave?”

“I don’t know, she wasn’t my friend. The only reason I remember her is because she used to cry all the time in class. Something about her mother being sick. And then she moved away. That’s all I remember about her.”

“Interesting.”

“I don’t see how knowing him in school changes anything. If you’re attracted to him, and he’s actually interested in your sexual pleasure instead of his own, I don’t see a single reason not to fuck him.”

“I’ve never done anything like that before. His nipples are pierced!”

“Even better.”

“I don’t know, he’s so different from anyone I’ve ever had a relationship with.”

“Stop thinking about a relationship. This is meaningless sex. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to spend forever with him. All that matters is that he’s good in the sack.” Sophie’s shoulders drop, and she reaches her hand across to mine and takes hold of it. “It makes me sad that my sister had never had an orgasm. We need to fix that.”

11. Gabe

I hold my arm along the wall behind me, stretching the way Eloise showed me. Since my physio session with her, I’ve religiously done all my stretches three times as often as she said to do them.

It’s paying off. My shoulder hasn’t felt this good in months. I have another session with her today. It’s only Wednesday, but I changed my appointment from Thursday because I couldn’t wait another day to see her again. Actually, I didn’t cancel the Thursday appointment. I figure two physio sessions with her is even better than one.

My phone rings, and I step away from the wall to get it from the coffee table. It’s Kaylee. I hit ignore, and set the phone back on the table. She can fuck off. I paid her, there’s no need for me to ever talk to her again.

Going back to the wall, I do some more stretches. The text message notification dings a minute later, and I pick up the phone to read it.

I’m working for Marshall now. Thought you’d want to know.

No, Kaylee, I don’t need to know that you work for Marshall. I don’t care that you’ve joined Hell in a Needle. I don’t care about you at all. I don’t feel the need to tell her that.

Setting the phone back on the table, I head to the bathroom for a quick shower before my appointment with Eloise.

As the water runs over my head, a thought strikes me. Should I warn Marshall about Kaylee? Even if he is the biggest cocksucker on the planet? Fuck him.

My mind turns to Eloise, and my dick springs to life. If I take care of it now, it might behave itself during physio. Wrapping my hand around it, I stroke it, picturing myself pulling Eloise’s ponytail.

The fantasy morphs into the feel of her hands on my back and then I laugh. I can’t stop thinking about how much I enjoy being with her.

I don’t know what I want more, to fuck her or an actual relationship.

The longer I tug on my cock, the more I realize that it’s Eloise I want, all of her. She will be mine in every sense of the word.

Her pussy, spread for me that first day, takes over my brain, and tingles coat my skin. Another stroke and cum erupts from my cock, giving me the release I need before I see her.

Maybe I can get through today’s session without having a painfully hard erection.

After drying off and dressing, I pick up my keys and phone, ready to go to Eloise.

There is another text from Kaylee.

Did you see my text about me working for Marshall at Hell in a Needle?

Rolling my eyes, I type a quick message back.

Good luck to you. Now leave me alone. I’m blocking your number.

She’s lucky that’s all I’m doing. I should be reporting her to the cops. Once again I wonder if I should be warning Marshall about her or not.

Fiddling around on the phone, I figure out how to block her number. Good riddance to her.

I hop on my bike and make my way to sweet Eloise, my Jewel.

When I arrive at the office, the chick behind the counter, Marcy, drops the papers she was holding.

“Back again?” she asks, her voice half breathy and half nervous.

I don’t know if she’s flirting with me or not. She flicks her hair. It’s definitely flirting. In her dreams.

“I’ll take a seat,” I say, winking.

Eloise appears a few minutes later, smiling. My heart thuds at the sight of her. It’s going to be a struggle to control myself.

“Follow me,” she says.

I want to tell her that I liked it better when she said ‘come with me’, but I vowed to be on my best behavior today.

“How’s the shoulder?” she asks, shutting the door to the room behind us.

“Much better. Those stretches are really helping.”

“You’ve been doing the stretches?” she asks, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“That surprises you?”

She shrugs. “Most people don’t.”

“I’m not most people.”

“Let’s check your range.”

I follow her instructions as she tells me to move my arms around. Her face is serious with concentration the entire time, her soft lips moving left and right while she thinks. I struggle to stop from pulling her against me and kissing her.

“Take your shirt off and lie face down,” she says.

A massive grin pushes across my face. They’re words straight from my fantasies. I’ve been thinking about them all week. Thank fuck I took care of my dick in the shower, or it’d be rock hard right now. Instead, it’s only semi.

Eloise ignores her notes and watches me as I grab the hem of my shirt. I try to grab her eyes, but her gaze is fixed on my stomach. I lift my shirt a little, exposing my abs, and her mouth quivers with a smile.

I open my mouth to crack a comment, but bite my tongue. Today is all about making her comfortable with me.

She watches intently as I pull off my shirt the rest of the way. With my shirt in my hand, I lock my eyes on hers, and we stand motionless for a moment.

My dick stiffens, and I break the gaze and lie down before she notices the massive bulge in my pants.

Through the face hole in the table, I watch her feet. She moves to the wall shelf, then back to me. Positioning herself at the top of the table, the toes of her shoes are directly under my eyes.

I wait, ready for her to run her hands over me the way she did last week, but she remains motionless. What is she thinking? Is she chickening out of touching me again?

The air in the small room charges, getting more electric with each passing moment.

And then she lays her hands on me.

My body jolts from head to toe. The thin paper under me rips under my sudden movement.

Her hands don’t move from my back. It’s as though they’re stuck to me, unable to pull away.

Eloise adjusts her feet, and begins the deep tissue massage along my shoulder blade. I fight to keep my mind off her. From all the ways I’d like her to touch me, and for me to touch her.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t help the raging hard-on in my pants.

“Thought any more about how to fix your problem?” I ask, all attempt at keeping control gone with her touch on my body.

“As a matter of fact, I have.”

“Really?” I ask, genuinely surprised.

“Yes. I’ve been thinking a lot about it since I last saw you, and I think you’re right.”

“By right, you mean you want my help?”

Her hands stop moving, and she pauses. “Yeah, I think maybe I do.”

Holy fucking hell. I can’t believe she just said that. If I was hard a second ago, now my dick is so hard it hurts like a son of a bitch. I can’t even adjust myself, as any movement near it is likely to end up as a mess in my pants.

Neither of us says anything else as she works on my shoulder. Even though I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist me for long, her words just changed everything.

My mind races through the possibilities.

“Okay, sit up,” she says, tapping my back.

I sit up, unconcerned about my raging erection.

Eloise wraps my arm around her back, the same way she did last week. My exposed skin prickles from her nearness. But there’s one resolution of mine I won’t forget – this isn’t just going to be about sex.

Our eyes lock as she rocks her body back and forth, teasing me with her lips.

As much as I’d like to rip off her clothes right here, I’m good. I behave myself. But I can’t hold off for much longer.

On an inward rock, I squeeze my arm around her, and bring her head close to mine. My nostrils fill with her fruity shampoo, and I’m overcome with the urge to rip out her ponytail holder. I want to see her hair wild around her face, not the carefully tied back way it always is.

Our noses are close, our lips within contact distance. Eloise’s breathing is rapid against my arm.

I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want Eloise Hutchinson right now.

12. Eloise

Our lips are close. I brace myself for Gabe’s kiss but one doesn’t come. My panties have been a sopping mess since he walked in the door. Now, every inch of my body is buzzing from his nearness.

I’ve spent every day since Saturday psyching myself up for today. Building the courage to tell Gabe I’d take him up on his offer.

With Sophie’s insistence of meaningless sex being exactly what I need. Over and over, in texts, phone calls and even emails, I’ve given into the idea.

Like she said, ‘If he can do what he says he can, you won’t regret it.’

It’s Wednesday, but I imagined myself inviting him back to my place tonight. Where he can show me the good time he promised, in the comfort of my home.

“Dinner first,” he says.

My brow creases, processing his words.

“I thought you were joking about dinner before.”

“No, I’m taking you to dinner first.”

“Isn’t the girl the one who’s supposed to demand dinner first? Why do I feel like we’re in a role reversal?”

Gabe smirks, and says, “This ain’t no role reversal. That’ll all be clear when I get your clothes off.”

The sureness of his voice sends a fresh blast of heat through me. I try to move away, but he holds me tight.

“I’m not going to object to you buying me dinner,” I say. But my mind races over the possibility of someone I know seeing me with him.

My friends would freak at the sight of me with a guy with so many tattoos. I wish it were winter, so he’d at least wear a sweater.

What if my parents saw us? They’d freak, not just at him but at the fact that he’s a client here at the practice. They’d lose all respect for me. Every morning I’d have to be greeted by their looks of disapproval.

“How about Friday?” he asks.

My face drops, and I can’t hide my disappointment. To try to cover it, I bite my cheeks and look away.

Gabe chuckles, “Can’t wait that long? I’m free tonight, if you’re ready for it.”

“Yes, I’m ready,” I snap, pulling myself away from him and moving across the room.

“That’s cool. Tonight it is.”

“Fine,” I say, my voice sharp.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Fine.”

Gabe smirks, and says, “You’re going to have to give me your address.”

I scribble it down and shove the paper at him. He snatches it from my hand, grabs his T-shirt with his other hand, and walks out of the room.

Collapsing in the chair, I try to calm myself and figure out what just happened.

He’s taking me out tonight, followed by the promise of mind-blowing sex, is what just happened.

Sophie will be pleased, but I’m not breathing a word of it to her until at least tomorrow.

“Holy cow, that guy just walked through reception with no shirt on!” Marcy yells as her footsteps rush down the hallway. She appears in my doorway, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. “He has the best body I’ve ever seen! Did you touch him?”

“Control yourself, Marcy. Remember what my parents said about being professional.” I use my most clinical voice.

She huffs and walks away, no doubt looking for someone else to tell. I cannot believe Gabe didn’t put his shirt back on and walked through the reception area like that.

The rest of the day is a blur. Autopilot takes over as I see the rest of my patients, my mind whirling over seeing Gabe tonight.

I get home just before six, giving me an hour to get ready. After spending far too long in the shower, I face my closet, wondering what to wear.

What do you wear in a situation like this? I still don’t know how I let Sophie talk me into doing this.

It’s a warm evening. After trying on several outfits, I settle on a dark pink sundress with a halter top.

Chet, my ex-boyfriend, always liked my hair tied back, which was good because I almost always tie my hair back.

But tonight is different. It’s all about sex, nothing more. This is about being as far away from my normal self as possible. Tying my hair back the way I always do somehow doesn’t seem right.

Digging around in my bottom drawer, I locate the automatic hair curler Sophie gave me for Christmas a couple of years ago. I’ve only ever used it a few times, and it takes me a while to get the hang of it. But once I do, it’s easy to get my hair looking like Selena Gomez’s.

This gives me just enough time to brush my teeth and do my makeup before Gabe is due to arrive.

At six-fifty-nine, my door buzzes. A million butterflies take off inside of me, and I shake my hands to calm them down. Here comes my first night of meaningless, hook-up sex.

I open my door to reveal Gabe standing on my doorstep. My jaw drops. He’s wearing black jeans and a tight black T-shirt that forms to his muscles. Somehow he looks better than I’ve ever seen him look.

His eyes rake over me, from my feet up, setting off the butterflies again. When his eyes reach my head, he bites his bottom lip and shakes his head.

We stand frozen for a minute, taking each other in.

“You look incredible. I’ve never seen you with your hair down before. I thought you were beautiful before but this is a whole new level.”

I blush and curse myself for turning red so easily.

“Thank you,” I mouth. I want to return the compliment and tell him how good he looks but I can’t find the words.

“I brought you this,” Gabe says, revealing a single red rose from behind his back.

“That’s so sweet. Thank you.”

I take the rose, and reach my lips up to kiss his cheek. Gabe rests his hand on my back, enveloping me in his warmth. I breathe in his clean, masculine scent, and could happily stand here all night.

He shifts his head, and brushes his lips on my lips. Without thinking, my lips part. Gabe growls, and presses his mouth against mine. He holds me tighter. Holding the rose, I wrap my arms around his strong body.

Tingles coat my skin and heat pools between my legs. Why are we bothering with dinner? This isn’t a date, and right now I’m feeling ready for everything he promised.

Gabe pulls his head away, breaking the kiss. I gaze up at him, my breathing rapid.

“We should get going,” he says.

“Do we have to? We could ditch dinner and go straight to the mind-blowing part.”

“No way,” he says with a sly smile, “The deal was dinner first. Besides, you’re not ready for it yet.”

I fall onto my heels, and pull away from him. I feel like yelling I am ready, but decide maybe he’s right.

“Let me put this in water,” I say, holding up the rose.

He follows me into the kitchen. I dig a thin vase from the back of a rarely used cupboard, and fill it with water.

“You really like roses,” I say with a smile, knowing roses are tattooed all across his chest.

“Yeah, they have sentimental value for me,” he says, his voice more gravelly than usual.

“Well, I love roses. They’re my favorite flower.”

A grin springs across Gabe’s face. He holds his hand out and says, “A good sign for the night. Let’s go.”

13. Gabe

With Eloise’s hand in mine, I lead her to my pickup truck. As she climbs in, I worry that I didn’t clean my truck thoroughly enough for her. At least I got all the junk out of it and she has a place to put her feet.

I get in the driver seat and start the engine. Before I pull away, I pause to look at Eloise. I was speechless when I first saw her with her hair down. She’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.

It’s going to be a struggle to stick to my plan making her realize this evening is more than about sex. Tonight is all about us becoming an item.

I don’t know why she makes me feel the way she does. No other woman has ever done this to me. Hell, normally women are in and out of my life and any who do stick around do so out of their own persistence.

But there’s something about her that I can’t get enough of.

Putting the truck in gear, we head off.

“Do you feel like a burger?” I ask.

“I’m always up for a burger.”

“Perfect.”

Eloise says nothing else, and I get the sense she’s nervous. I guess that’s understandable. She’s probably never been out with a guy like me before, and on the promise of sex she’ll actually enjoy.

“We could always go to Nick Tahou Hots for a garbage plate,” I joke.

She laughs immediately, and says, “I haven’t had one since I finished college. It’s tempting, but maybe kind of heavy.”

“Don’t worry, I was teasing. I wouldn’t take you there on a first date.”

“Oh,” she says, her voice constricted. The nerves are back. Maybe I shouldn’t have called this a date.

Reaching across the seats, I find her hand and lace my fingers through it. She doesn’t pull away, and I squeeze her hand, trying to reassure her.

“What’s your sentimental reason?” she asks.

“For what?”

“For roses. I mean, you have a lot of them tattooed on you.”

I don’t want to get into that now. “They were a family favorite. When I was a kid, our backyard was full of them. When they were in bloom, my mom used to bring bunches of them into the house,” I say.

“Nostalgia, then.”

“Something like that.”

“Did they hurt?” she pauses, then adds, “Getting all the tattoos.”

“It didn’t bother me, obviously.”

“I’d be too scared of the pain.”

“Pain is only in your mind. Besides, you were about to pierce your most sensitive area.”

“But that’s only one quick thing, not all the hours that it must’ve taken for all your tattoos.”

Smirking, I look across at her, and ask, “Do you like my tattoos?”

Eloise shrugs, and says, “They’re growing on me.”

I burst out laughing, and so does she.

“I’ll make a bad girl out of you yet.”

“Never in a million years.”

We joke around the rest of the drive. I pull the truck into the classiest burger joint in town. At least as classy as a burger joint can get.

Eloise hops out of the truck, and I drape my arm over her shoulders. She feels perfect against me, like she’s exactly where she belongs. At least she’s loosening up around me and doesn’t seem nervous anymore.

When we reach the entrance, I hold the door open for her. She steps inside and I follow behind. We stand at the hostess station, waiting to be seated.

While we wait for a hostess to appear, I look around the restaurant. It’s nicer than my usual spots. It’s mostly tables and chairs instead of booths. And they even have real tablecloths, and they don’t store the ketchup on the tables.

Fuck.

Marshall is eating at one of the tables on the far side of the room. We’re going to have to leave. But there is no way I am telling Eloise the reason.

Somehow I don’t think she could handle the news that someone has a restraining order against me. Even if I took out the restraining order against him first.

“Jewel, let’s go. I don’t want to eat here anymore,” I say, and pull her hand.

“Why? We just got here.”

“I don’t like that guy over there,” I say, nodding my head toward him.

“So we’ll just sit away from him. It’s not like we’ll be at the same table or anything.”

“No, we’re leaving.”

I head to the door, taking her with me. As my hand makes contact with the handle, guilt hits me. I should warn Marshall about Kaylee. I’d want him to do the same for me.

Except I’m not allowed to even be this close to him, or to contact him in any way. But his clients deserve protection, even if they do use my competition instead of me.

I glance over my shoulder, Marshall spotted me and is shooting daggers with his eyes. Fuck him. I open the door, and we walk back to my truck.

“What was that about?” Eloise asks, her brow creased.

“Nothing. Let’s go someplace nicer. You deserve it.”

Her brow creases even more, and she mutters, “Okay, whatever.”

“It’s like Mrs. Singleton used to say, if something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.”

She laughs so I think I’ve convinced her. Or at least made her stop asking questions. We get back in the truck, and drive to a nice Italian place just down the road.

“What happened to burgers?” she asks.

“Next time,” I say, flashing her a massive smile.

Eloise doesn’t say anything, and I know she’s contemplating the idea of there being a next time.

I lead her into the restaurant, and we’re greeted right away.

“Good evening, table for two?” the hostess asks. She’s smiling but she’s looking me up and down, like I don’t belong in her restaurant.

“Yes,” I say, my eyes boring into her.

“Follow me.”

She grabs two menus, and we follow her to a table by an ornate fountain.

“This is much nicer, isn’t it?” I wink.

We order dinner. I have chicken linguine and Eloise has pumpkin ravioli.

As we eat, we laugh and reminisce about school. Since I moved back to Rochester, I haven’t seen anyone I went to grade school with. It’s nice to think about my childhood, when it was still happy. And it’s especially nice that it’s with Eloise.

“Where did you move to when you left Rochester?” Eloise asks.

“Pittsburgh.” I don’t want to have this discussion, especially not now.

“Did you like it there?”

“Hated it,” I say and shove a heaping forkful of food in my mouth so I don’t have to say anything else.

Eloise watches me chew, her eyes searching my face. She’s not getting anything out of me. This is about me and her, and nothing else.

“I think my sister was in the same grade as your sister,” she says, her eyes fixed on mine.

Seeing a way to change the subject, I swallow, and ask, “What’s your sister doing now?”

“She’s in med school. She’s planning to join my parents’ practice when she finishes.”

The last thing I want to talk or even think about right now is her parents’ medical practice. Just hearing her say the words tenses my shoulders. I exhale sharply, my eyes raking over Eloise. I love seeing her without her ponytail, and her cleavage in that flimsy dress is making me hard.

“I’d planned to yank on your ponytail as I made you come,” I say, eager to change the subject.

Her eyes bulge, and I smirk at her.

“That’s if you can, and a big if.”

“It’s a promise. I’m going to start by kissing those soft lips of yours, and teasing you with my tongue. Then I’m going to take my fingers, and find that same spot I had you by in my chair, and I’m going to massage it until you’re so wet your ankles are soaked and your mouth is dry. At that point, I won’t be able to resist you any longer, and I’m going to put my dick in you. I’ll be gentle at first, letting you get used to the size and feel of a real man. Once you’re ready, I’m going to pound you until you scream your brains out. By the time I get through, you won’t remember your own name.”

Eloise sits motionless with her eyes wide and her lips parted as I speak. I don’t even think she’s breathing. I shovel a piece of chicken into my mouth and watch her react.

Eloise clears her throat, and says, “As long as you’re not just all talk.”

With a coy smile, I say, “You’re wet right now, aren’t you?”

She wiggles in her seat, and says with a smile, “This ravioli is delicious.”

We talk easily as we finish our meals. Neither of us wants dessert, so I pay the bill before Eloise has the chance to demand to pay half.

As we get back to the truck, Eloise says, “Back to my place now?” Her voice has a slight tremble in it, and none of the confidence she’s had over dinner.

“Not yet,” I say firmly.

“Where are we going now?”

“I thought we’d get a drink.”

“I thought the deal was dinner.”

The thought of taking her back to her place now and ripping her clothes off is hard to resist, but I’m having too much fun with her and I’m going to stick to my plan. Eloise chats nervously as I drive to a quiet bar I know.

“You’re not ready. Besides, aren’t you having fun?”

Eloise smiles, her lips a tight line. I tap her knee, and drive to the nearby bar. We park, and I lead her inside.

“Oh my God, it’s Sophie, my sister.”

14. Eloise

“Eloise! Over here!” Sophie yells, and I automatically walk to her table.

It’s a small bar, and hardly any people are here. I guess Wednesday isn’t a big night for bars. Except for my sister, apparently.

She’s sitting at a table with three other women. They all stop talking, and watch me as I approach them.

“What are you doing here?” Sophie asks, standing and hugging me.

“What are you doing here? It’s Wednesday, shouldn’t you be home studying?”

She shrugs, and says, “Wednesdays are cadaver days, we always come here to have a few drinks afterwards, to clear our minds of the bodies.”

Comments like that make me glad I wasn’t able to get into med school.

“Sounds heavy,” I say, looking at her three friends and smiling.

“What are you doing here?”

Gabe reaches the table, and brushes my hand with his. Sophie’s eyes bulge. The eyes of her three friends bulge.

“I’m here with Gabe,” I say.

“Is that Gabe? Him?” she asks in a hushed tone.

I smile and nod, my eyebrows raised.

“Eloise, I need the bathroom. Come with me.” Without waiting for my response, Sophie takes my hand and pulls me away.

“Gabe, do you mind?”

“Go ahead, I’ll get us some beers,” he says, and turns away from the table.

The washroom is at the back of the bar, and I follow Sophie down the row of wooden tables. She throws open the door, and we step into the cramped, dated space. At least it’s clean.

“What are you doing with him here? Shouldn’t you two be in a bedroom somewhere?”

“He insisted on having dinner first.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“I just want to get this over with.”

“So tell him that.”

“I have. He said I’m not ready yet. That I’m not relaxed enough.”

Sophie bursts out laughing, her cackle echoing around the small space.

“What’s so funny?” I demand.

“He’s probably right. You’re so tense all the time. This is probably why you’ve never had an orgasm before.” She pushes the words out between her chuckles.

My cheeks turn red with fury, and I fight the urge to slap her.

“Shut up.”

Sophie runs her fingers through my hair, and says, “You look amazing. You should wear your hair down more often.”

“I used that hair curler thing you bought me for Christmas.”

“Like three years ago? It’s about time you used it.”

I snarl my lip at her. I take a step back, and say, “You smell like the dead.”

“Very funny. I had a shower.”

“Might want to try some perfume as well.”

“Anyway,” Sophie says in a more serious tone, “that man is sex on legs. Send him my way when you’re finished with him.”

“You don’t think he’s too rough looking?”

“That’s his appeal, duh. I want him next.”

“I think Marcy’s next in line after me.”

“Screw Marcy, I’m your sister, I get priority.”

The idea of Gabe with either of them upsets me. For some reason I feel protective of him, and don’t want either of them to go near him.

“I found him, find your own man.”

“At least have him take his shirt off for us, so my friends and I can study his muscles. Purely for medical research, of course.”

“No way. I just told you, he’s mine.”

She grins, and says, “So this is more than sex?”

“God, no. Look at him, how could I ever bring him home to Mom and Dad?”

“Especially now they know he’s a client. But who cares, you’re in this for the sex, remember?”

“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten. But I don’t know when that’s going to happen. I thought dinner would be it, but here we are, in a bar.”

“What’s he like to hang around with?”

Without hesitating, I say, “Lots of fun, actually.”

“So chill out and relax. Stop worrying about it so much and enjoy yourself.”

“But I can’t, I just want to get it over with.”

“Do I have to start quoting you research from my human sexuality class? Get rid of that attitude and relax and enjoy your time with him.”

My gut is telling me she’s right. I’m having a good time with Gabe. I should stop worrying so much about the way tonight is going to end.

“I should get back out there, he’s probably wondering what happened to me.”

Turning, I open the washroom door and go in search of Gabe. He’s sitting alone, at a table as far away from Sophie’s table as possible in the small space.

“Sorry, sisters.” I say, shrugging.

I sit across from him. Two beers in frosty glasses are already on the table.

“That one’s yours.”

“Thanks.”

Gabe lifts the other glass and says, “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I say, clinking my glass against his.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to sit with your sister and her friends or not.”

“No way. I have no desire to sit with them.”

“That’s good. That must mean your sister approved of me.”

“Do you care?”

“Only if her disapproval would scare you off me.”

“Well I’m still sitting here, aren’t I?”

“I know, I’m enjoying the view.”

My face turns red, and I say, “You can stop that now, you’ve already got me tonight.”

“Maybe it’s not just about tonight.”

Unsure how to respond, I lift my glass and take a long sip. I’d only ever thought about tonight, what I thought was a one-time offer to solve my problem.

It never occurred to me that he’d want to do it again. Or even that I might want to do it again. I guess I was thinking that he’d teach me how to have an orgasm, and after that I’d be able to do it myself.

Assuming, of course, that he actually can live up to his own hype.

My mind starts to spin. What am I doing here? How did I end up on a date with the promise of a first orgasm? Is it actually going to happen?

I hear Sophie and her friends explode in laughter, their noise crashing through the quiet of the bar. I glance over at them, and her eyes catch mine.

I realize I’m doing exactly what I promised her I wouldn’t. I have to relax and stop overthinking things. Live in the moment, like I promised her.

Gabe finishes his drink, and sets the glass on the table.

“Another beer?” he asks.

“Actually, I was going to suggest we go to a different bar.”

“Music to my ears.”

Abandoning the rest of my beer, I stand. Gabe stands, and takes my hand. As we walk to the door, I look over at Sophie. She gives me the thumbs up and laughs. I give her the finger.

Back in Gabe’s truck, I say, “I feel like we’re playing musical chairs tonight.”

“Maybe next time we should stay in.”

I push the thought of a next time out of my head. Sophie would be proud.

“Who was that guy at the first restaurant anyway?”

“Marshall. He owns Hell in a Needle. And is an asshole.”

“So he’s a business rival.”

“One who doesn’t keep things professional. I didn’t want him to cause a scene.”

We drive in silence while I contemplate the concept of someone causing a scene. The idea is foreign to me and I can’t imagine my father ever being in the situation where someone he knows might make trouble.

“I know a place just around the corner, it’s even got a pool table. Have you ever played pool?”

I stifle my smile and decide not to tell Gabe that I grew up with one in our game room. Sophie and I spent half our childhood playing, and still play almost every weekend.

“No, never. But it sounds fun.”

15. Gabe

The bar is almost empty. I don’t care, I’m just glad to get out of that other place. One Hutchinson is all I can take, and that’s only because it’s Eloise. When Eloise said her sister was there, I nearly walked away and went home. All I could think of was my father, drunk, ranting about how he wanted them all to die. But the memory of the way Eloise responded to my touch forced its way to the front of my mind and made me stay.

I order a Coke for me, Diet Coke for Eloise.

“No beer?” she asks.

“We’re both going to want to be sober tonight,” I say and wink.

Holding the drinks in one hand, I hook my other arm around Eloise and we weave through the tables to get to the pool table.

It might be my imagination, but she finally seems to be relaxing. I only hope she’s having as much fun as I am.

The fact that she clams up any time I mention a next time hasn’t been lost on me. I trust any hang-ups she has about me will be forgotten after I get off her clothes. And I trust I’ll forget my hang-ups about the Hutchinsons after I make her quiver and moan.

I’m not even sure why I need there to be a next time so badly. Half my brain is telling me to fuck her and walk away. The other half is jumping up and down the way I did in grade school. I was determined to make her mine then, and feel the same way now. As long as I can suppress the part of me that is warning me off getting involved with a Hutchinson.

The pool table is in a back room and separated from the rest of the bar by saloon doors. I can’t help picturing Eloise bent over it, her skirt flicked up and me pounding into her from behind.

But I have to stick to the plan.

I feed the coins into the table, releasing the balls. Eloise listens carefully as I explain the rules while I set up the table. When I finish setting up the balls, I glance up at her.

Even though I’ve been with her all evening, she makes my breath stop. She’s beautiful.

Her lips are parted, and I can’t help thinking about how soft they were when I kissed her earlier. I clear my throat and turn away from the table.

“This is a cue.” I take a cue from the rack on the wall, and hold it out to her.

Eloise takes it from me, and examines it clinically. I move behind her, and take her hands in mine. I slide her right hand toward the back of the cue, and lay the top of the cue on the base of her left thumb.

“You rest it in the base of your thumb and slide it back and forth with your right hand.”

With my body pressed up against hers, I lean her over the table and move the cue back and forth a few times, letting her get the feel of it.

Not wanting away from her, I keep on moving the cue.

“I think I get the picture,” she says.

“Just making sure.”

Eloise throws her head back in a silent laugh, exposing her long neck. My mouth is close, and I long to sink my teeth into it. My dick twitches and I step away before it turns into a full-on erection.

“I’ll break,” I say.

I blast the white ball down the table, and the colored balls scatter and bounce over the green felt.

“Your turn. Aim at any ball you want.”

“I think I need your help.”

Willing my dick to behave, I position myself behind her. I hold her hand again, showing her how to guide the cue.

“Got it?” I ask.

“I’m not sure, maybe a few more.”

Fuck. Having her this close to me is impossible. No man can resist this kind of temptation.

“Ready to take your shot? It doesn’t matter if you miss.”

“I think I’m ready. Which ball do I aim at?”

“Any of them except the black, but this yellow solid looks like the easiest shot.”

Eloise looks at me, fighting a grin. Her eyes twinkle and I can’t figure out what’s up with her.

She sets her hand on the table and takes aim. With confidence, she snaps her arm back, and hits the white ball with her cue. The ball smacks into the yellow ball, which rolls down the table and into the corner pocket.

“You sure hit that ball with force for someone who’s never played before.” She’s obviously played before.

“Must be my teacher. What I do now, do I keep going?”

“The table’s yours.”

“Can you show me how to hold the cue again?”

“Are you sure you need my help?”

Eloise steps closer to me, and rests her hand on my chest. She looks straight into my eyes, and says, “I definitely need your help. That’s why I’m here, remember?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

She turns, and holds the cue out in front of her. I position myself behind her, leaving a gap so she doesn’t notice my hard cock.

“Like this, nice and smooth.”

“Nice and smooth,” she repeats, leaning her head back to mine, her hair catching in my stubble.

Unable to see this ending the way I’d planned, I step away from her. I take a drink of my Coke, wishing I’d ordered some Jack to go with it.

Eloise takes aim and sinks the blue ball in the side pocket. Without looking at me, she threads the white ball between two stripes and sinks the green ball.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I say, laughing.

“Like I said, you’re a real good teacher.”

“Why’d you do it to me, Eloise? What did I do to deserve this?” I’m joking, but I say it in a serious tone to be funny.

Her brow furrows, and she stands straight, with a distant look in her eye. I wait for her to laugh, or respond, or anything, but she remains lost in thought.

“I was just joking. I’m glad you know how to play, that makes things much more fun.”

Falling back against the pool table, she says, “I just remembered something. You said that to me before. Exactly that. I’d totally forgotten.”

“I did?” I ask, confused.

“In seventh grade, right before you moved away. It’s all coming back to me now. You said it was all my fault that you had to move away. That everything was my fault.”

“I don’t remember that.”

But of course I remember it. I blamed Eloise for everything. She was my easiest target. The nearest Hutchinson to take out my anger on.

“What was my fault?”

“I don’t know. Who cares what I said when I was twelve. You probably splashed mud on my shoes or something.”

Eloise quirks her eyebrow. “You cared about getting mud on your shoes?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, maybe they were new.”

“Why did you move away, anyway?”

These are questions I don’t want to answer.

“My parents split.” It’s half true, at least.

“And you moved away because of that?”

“We moved to Pittsburgh to be near my mother’s family. Any more questions before I start whooping your ass at this game?”

To my relief, Eloise laughs, and says, “In your dreams.”

She takes a tricky shot at the side pocket but hits one of my stripe balls first.

“My turn,” I say, chalking my cue.

I sink four stripes before missing a bank shot. We go back and forth, and are pretty evenly matched players. Amazing, considering I spent most of my teenage years in pool halls.

In the end, Eloise wins the first game. We play three more, I win the next two and Eloise wins the last. The entire time we’re playing, we laugh and joke. She’s definitely loosened up from when I picked her up from her apartment.

“That’s two each. Tiebreaker?” she asks.

“Next time,” I say to see how she’ll react.

She throws her head back chuckling, and says, “I’ll be prepared next time. You’ll be lucky to win one game.”

Next time. That’s all I needed to hear. She’s mine, even before I bring her to her knees.

I set my cue on the pool table and quickly move towards her. For the first time tonight, I don’t fight my desires.

Planting my hands on the small of her back, I pull her tight against me.

16. Eloise

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for all night. Gabe’s muscular arms are wrapped around my waist, his hard dick digging unapologetically into me.

My heart pounds, waiting to leave this bar. Waiting for him to take me home and rip my clothes off and throw me on my bed.

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been watching you bent over that table all night? Your juicy ass stuck out, begging to be grabbed?” he growls into my ear.

The butterflies from earlier return from wherever they’ve been hiding, and fill my chest with their flutters.

“I wasn’t stopping you.”

“You were teasing me.” His voice is raw with want.

Gabe releases his hold on my waist. Bringing his hands to my face, he cups my cheeks. For a moment we simply gaze into each other’s eyes. The intensity of his stare blasts straight into my core. I forget to breathe.

Still under his spell, I’m caught off guard when he slides his hands back, meshing his fingers into my hair. His action makes me gasp.

Like an animal, he crushes his lips against mine. All the heat in the universe pools between my legs. My lips part and our tongues frantically attack each other.

Without meaning to, I moan. He breaks our kiss. Gabe spins me and pushes me near the pool table.

“I really appreciate your bare shoulders in this dress,” he says, kissing and nipping over them. “I love how they turn red whenever your cheeks do.”

My hands clutch the bumper on the table. He sucks the fleshy base of my neck, which somehow connects straight to my pussy.

Gabe runs his hand down my neck, over my back and the curve of my ass. His fingers reach the hem of my skirt and pull it up. He nudges my feet further apart and cups my mound.

Grunting in approval, he says, “You soaked right through your panties.”

I throw back my head and grind into his hand. This is crazy. We need to go back to my place. He runs his hand over my ass, and hooks his finger in the hem of my panties. I tense as he slides them down my thighs, all the way to my feet. He lifts my right foot, and tugs my panties over it.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice breathy.

“Making you feel good.”

“We can’t. Not here.”

“It’s fine. No one can see us,” he says, and pushes my chest onto the table.

Before I can protest, his fingers move through my folds and find that same spot he had a hold of in his tattoo parlor. My knees buckle and my upper body flattens against the table as it holds me up.

Forgetting where I am, I close my eyes and let the tingling fill me. He keeps rolling the spot behind my clit, just like he did before. Only this time it feels even better. Possibly because we both know where this is going, possibly because I’m not so freaked out. Even if I am laying face down on a pool table in the backroom of a bar.

My arousal builds and I fight to silence my mind for wanting to stop doing this here in the bar.

Wet trickles from my entrance and down my thighs. I could never stop him. Not when he’s making me feel like this.

Still rolling his fingers, he lowers his body and kisses my ass cheeks. His teeth sink into my flesh, and my mind tries to protest that he’ll leave a mark. But it’s silenced by the pure, screaming lust that he’s creating.

His kisses move lower, and he sucks my thighs. Gabe grunts when he tastes the wet on my legs. His breathing is heavy and the warm exhales from his nose coat my skin in tingles.

He licks up the inside of my left thigh, his stubble rough on my soft skin. His tongue cleans the wet from my thigh. When he reaches the top of my leg, he runs his tongue over my lips and I think I actually might die right there on the table.

The sensation is almost too intense to bear.

My mind wanders ahead, to me on my back in my bed and him moving on top of me. Gabe dips his tongue into my entrance and I snap back to the present.

Good fucking God I want more.

I spread my legs wider and tilt my ass higher, trying to give him better access from his position.

Gabe smacks it with his free hand, and grips it hard. I know I’ll have a handprint there tomorrow, along with the bite marks. And I don’t even care. I don’t even care that we’re not in a private home, the only type of place I’ve ever done anything like this. Or that I’m letting someone I’m not in a relationship with do this to me. All I care about is the way he’s making me feel.

He still hasn’t stopped rolling his fingers when his tongue dips into me again. He takes it out, and licks around my entrance. His circles grow bigger, and before I know what’s happened, he licks my asshole.

I gasp and flinch, my eyes shoot open. But the hand on my ass holds me steady. He grunts, and licks it again, prodding it harder this time.

He pinches the fingers holding my clit extra hard, and the sudden tension his tongue created leaves my body. But he leaves his tongue where it is, dancing over my surprisingly sensitive asshole.

Gabe lets go of my ass cheek, and drives his finger into my slick entrance. He keeps it shallow, and adds a second finger. He prods them against my sensitive front wall, while the fingers of his other hand roll on my clit and his tongue licks my asshole.

My body screams from head to toe.

I can’t hear or think about anything other than the way Gabe’s making my body feel.

Every muscle I have tenses and coils like a spring.

And then it happens.

For the first time ever.

Release hits me with the force of a ten-ton atomic bomb, and a tidal wave rockets out in all directions, with my pussy as the epicenter.

My walls clamp tight on Gabe’s fingers. Every muscle I have pulsates. And, just like in my books, wave after wave washes over me.

In pure, primal reflex, I scream at the top of my lungs.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” a man’s voice roars.

My eyes fly open. The bartender is standing red-faced at the opening to the pool table area.

“Get the fuck out of my bar now!”

The waves are still washing over me, and I find it impossible to move or care.

Gabe takes his hands away and stands. He pulls me away from the table.

“Easy, buddy, we’re just having some fun on a first date.”

“Well first date your ass the hell out of my bar before I make you steam clean the felt.”

My legs are useless pieces of spaghetti. Gabe half carries me away from the pool table.

“The floor’s messier than the table,” Gabe says as we push pass the bartender.

He bundles me out of the bar and through the parking lot. Opening the door of his truck, he lifts me into the passenger seat.

“I need my dick in you, now. I’ve never needed my dick to be anywhere so bad in my life.”

“My apartment?”

“Hell no, that’s too far. I can’t wait that long.”

Gabe shuts my door, and gets in the driver seat. He turns on the engine and pulls out of the parking lot.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” He pounds the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “I’m so fucking pissed off.”

“Why?” I ask, assuming it’s not at me.

“Because that asswipe interrupted your first climax.”

“I can’t believe you were actually able to do what you said you could.” Or that he did that where he did.

He looks at me and grins from ear to ear. “You doubted me?”

My body is still a tingling mess, and remnants of waves still push through my body. I feel euphoric.

“Anyway,” he says, “I’m gonna make you feel that way again without the interruption.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“I don’t see how you can.” Maybe in a week or so, not now.

“Easy. With my big fucking cock. Trust me, Jewel, that was just a little something to whet your appetite.”

17. Gabe

My heart slows, it was hammering against my ribs in rage at that stupid fucking bartender barging in on us like that. At least now I’m back on plan. I want to take my time with Eloise.

I ease the truck out of the parking lot and head to nearby Genesee Valley Park, my planned destination all along.

With my right hand, I feel for the folded comforter I crammed between the seats earlier. Satisfied it’s still there, I reach across and rest my hand on Eloise’s thigh. Sometimes I really hate bucket seats.

“Are you doing okay?” I ask.

It’s a big moment for her, I could tell by the way she screamed.

“We left my panties in the bar,” she says, and giggles.

“That’s okay, you don’t need them. But you seem to be leaving your panties in a lot of places these days.” She laughs.

I pull the truck into the park and into a secluded spot I know.

“Here?” she asks, her eyes wide.

“I had this plan of telling you to look at the stars instead of worrying about leak marks in my ceiling, but I don’t think it matters now.” Not now that I know my touch was enough to make Eloise forget everything.

She exhales hard, in a half laugh. “I can’t believe you did that.”

I don’t know if she’s talking about the orgasm or it being in a bar, or maybe even me licking her ass. I bet no one’s ever gone near there before. All I know is the way her body responded to my touch.

Desperate for more of her, I cut the engine and grab the condoms and comforter. I hop out into the quiet of the park, crickets the only sound. I’m around to her side in a flash.

“Are you sure it’s okay here?” she says, as I open her door.

Dropping the comforter at my feet, I yank her out of her seat and into my arms. The feel of her body against mine sends a shudder up my back.

Eloise shifts her eyes around, obviously unsure of the idea of doing this here in the park. I clamp my mouth on hers to convince her.

She whimpers and relaxes into my kiss. I run my hands over her curves. I love knowing she has no panties on, and I lift her skirt and rub her luscious ass.

I untie the halter part of Eloise’s dress. With my lips still on hers, I hunch my back, creating space between us to let the front of the dress slip down. Her bra is strapless and silky, and I can’t resist running my hands over the sleek fabric. If I wasn’t such a hurry to get her clothes off, I’d stand back and stare at her a while.

Undoing the clasps, I pull the bra away and drop it at our feet. I break the kiss to look at her tits.

Even in the dim light of the moon and stars, I can see they’re perfect. A handful, exactly what I like best. Her nipples are hard, and I can’t resist brushing my fingers over them.

I shift my eyes to her face. Eloise is studying me, my face, my arms, my body. My eyes catch hers, and she bites her bottom lip.

Cupping the back of her head, I press my lips against hers in a soft kiss. She grips my biceps, sending a jolt through me.

As fast as I can, I step back and pull my T-shirt over my head. Even in the darkness, I don’t miss the fact that Eloise closes her eyes and shakes her head in disbelief.

“Everything good?” I ask.

“You’re like a freaking statue carved out of marble. Can I touch you?” She reaches her hands out, hovering them over my pecs.

I chuckle. “This isn’t a physiotherapy session, you don’t have to ask to touch me.”

She smiles, and even though it’s dark, I’m sure she’s turned red. Our eyes connect, and I stroke her cheek with the backs of my fingers.

Eloise takes a deep breath and brings her fingers to my pecs. There’s a slight tremble in them. I stand perfectly still as she moves them over my pecs and down to my abs.

Her fingers trace the ridges of my muscles. My dick gets harder and harder from the feel of her delicate fingers. I need to undo my jeans and free it, but leave it in its agony because I don’t want to interrupt her touch.

She slides her hands back up to my pecs. Her fingers move near my nipples, and she stops.

“Can I touch them?” she asks, her voice quiet and breathy.

“You can touch me any way you damn well please.”

To my surprise, she lunges her face at my chest. Her tongue connects with my nipple piercing, flicking them, first one side than the other.

“Fuck,” I moan.

My back contracts in a massive shudder, and my dick grows so hard that I have to reach down and undo my jeans.

Her right hand immediately slides down my abs and finds the waistband of my underwear. She tickles the tip of my cock, causing me to throw back my head.

I’d expected to do things to her to make her come. I hadn’t anticipated her touching me like this.

Eloise licks down the line of the center of my muscles, over my belly button and down to my waistband, dropping to her knees in the process.

She grabs hold of my jeans and underwear at my hips and pulls. My cock springs free, nearly hitting her in the face. She gets my jeans to my knees before giving up and grabbing onto my dick with both hands.

Holding it steady, she moves one hand to my balls and licks up my shaft. Her mouth opens wide and clamps over the head of my cock, her mouth soft, warm and wet.

Heat races through my veins, and I fall back against the open truck door.

She swirls her tongue around my head as she sucks, and my body feels like it might combust.

I may have made her feel the best she’s ever felt in the bar, but she’s doing the same to me here, now.

Letting the truck door take all my weight, I close my eyes and enjoy what she’s doing to me.

My balls draw up to my body. I grip her head and pull her off me.

“Careful,” I say. “I need to be inside you.”

After kicking my jeans the rest of the way off, I snap open the comforter. It’s close to the truck, but whatever.

Eloise takes her dress all the way off and stands completely naked in front of me. I curse myself for my idea of outdoor sex, and wish we were somewhere with lights so I could see her clearly.

I place my hands on her waist and draw her into me. Our naked bodies press together, fire burning where they touch.

Sliding my hand up her back, I lace my fingers into her hair and tilt her head back. My mouth crushes against hers like I haven’t eaten in years. She’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.

I scoop her up, and she gasps as I lay her on the comforter.

Kneeling, I take my time kissing and stroking her body from her toes up. When I get near the top of her thighs, Eloise spreads her legs but I ignore the temptation and continue up the soft curves of her body.

When I reach her head, I position myself over her. I prop myself on my elbows, and nestle between her legs.

I can’t resist grinding my cock against her wet lips.

“Gabe,” she whispers, “This doesn’t feel right.”

Her words punch me in the gut.

18. Gabe

I choke back the bile in my throat. Everything was going so perfectly. Better than perfect.

Smoothing back the hair from her forehead, I say, “What’s wrong, baby? What doesn’t feel right?”

“I don’t know what it is. Something feels weird.”

“Weird as in bad?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think I’m just anxious.”

“It’s not good to be anxious. Remember what I said about looking at the stars? Look up,” I say, and roll onto my back, beside her.

Eloise turns her head, our noses inches apart.

“My body feels incredible right now,” she says, and leaves her lips parted.

“So does mine. You do something crazy to it.”

“I wish you wouldn’t stop.”

“You sure?”

Eloise rolls onto her side, and rests her hand on my chest. She twiddles one of my nipple piercings, sending all the blood back to my dick.

Propping myself onto my side, I skim my free hand down her curves. When I reach her mound, I push two of my fingers through her wet folds and into her entrance.

I scissor them as I pump them in and out of her. She starts wiggling and moaning, and drenches my hand with her juices. My cock is fully erect, but I’m enjoying doing this to her too much to stop.

She bends her knees and spreads her legs even wider. She starts lifting her ass off the ground, forcing my fingers deeper into her.

My dick screams at me to get in her. The temptation to put it in her without a condom, and feel her wet walls against my skin, is overwhelming. With any other girl I wouldn’t give a fuck and do it anyway, but not Eloise.

I fly onto my knees and rummage around to find where the condoms had landed when I dropped them. It doesn’t take long to find them, and tear open one and roll it down my shaft.

Climbing between her spread legs, I lean down and kiss her.

“Ready?” I ask, my voice low.

“Yes,” she says, her voice barely audible.

Pressing my lips against hers, I give her a quick kiss but she’s far too excited to reciprocate.

I reach down and spread her lips while I press the tip of my cock into her. An intense pulse of heat hits me, and races up my back. I have to brace myself with my arms.

Steadied, I push the rest of the way into her. I move slowly, letting her adjust to my size. Eloise whimpers.

I thought my cock felt the best it could ever possibly feel when it was in her mouth, but this is a fuck-ton better. This is beyond my dick feeling good, this is every atom in my body drunk and high and winning the lottery, all at the same time.

Once again I have to brace myself from the intensity.

And then I start moving.

Fuck me.

No matter how good it feels, I’m determined to make this last. I don’t want this feeling to end. This is one time I can’t imagine the orgasm being the best part of the sex.

Eloise is wiggling away underneath me, and I slow the pace, determined to make her feel even a tenth as good as I’m feeling.

We continue moving, and she writhes around while I pump into her.

She drives her hips up and lets out a long whimper. Her walls spasm and clamp onto my dick. She’s coming.

The knowledge rips through me, and my cock explodes. Shudders rocket up my back and down my legs. My insides tingle with fury.

“Fuck,” I grunt, my voice so high in pitch it doesn’t sound like me.

Gulping for breath, I look down at Eloise, and realize she’s crying.

“Jewel?”

Eloise doesn’t say anything, but seems to cry harder. My heart hammers against my ribcage. I’ve never made a woman cry before.

I pull out, tossing the condom, untied, on the grass.

Stroking her hair, I lie alongside her and ask, “What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t reply, but she lifts her hand and wipes the tears from her cheeks.

“Hey, is everything okay? Did I hurt you?”

I run my hand over her curves, and gently kiss the tears in each of her eyes.

Her body heaves with the tears, and until she tells me what’s going on, all I can do is hold her. I hold her as tight as I can. There’s no way she doesn’t feel my heart pounding.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says through her sobs. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

“No, baby, what’s going on? I’m worried about you, is all.”

“It just feels so good, I didn’t expect it to feel so amazing. It’s unreal.”

A huge wave of relief washes over me, and I kiss her cheek. I hadn’t really thought about how she’d react. It must be hard to have your first orgasm at twenty-seven, when you learn what you’ve been missing out on for years.

I sit up and lay her across my lap, cradling her in my arms. She carries on sobbing against my chest.

Gathering herself together after a few minutes, Eloise sits up straighter and wipes her eyes.

“This is silly. I shouldn’t be crying over meaningless sex.”

Her words hit me like a kick in the teeth. My gut churns. I’ve just had the best sex of my life, we’re not even dressed yet, and she’s calling it meaningless.

“Baby, trust me, meaningless sex doesn’t feel the way that did.”

“But this was just a hook-up. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“You know what doesn’t mean anything? Every time you’ve ever had sex until now. And every guy you ever had sex with.”

Eloise falls silent. I cup the back of her head and bring her face close to mine. My eyes search hers for a moment, before I press my forehand against hers.

“It was so easy to make you orgasm. Both here and at the bar.”

“The bar was good, but this felt different.”

“It felt different for me too. I’ll be honest with you, baby, I’ve never felt that good before either.”

Another tear escapes her eye, and Eloise raises her hand to wipe it away.

I hold her tight, and we sit in silence for I don’t know how long. I’d happily sit with her like this all night long.

Eloise eventually breaks the silence, and in a soft voice says, “I should get home.”

I want to yell and scream and smash my truck windows at the thought of letting go of her, but I bring myself to say, “Sure, baby. Anything you want.”

She grabs her dress from the ground and pulls it on. She hasn’t bothered with her bra. She must be in a hurry.

I ball up the comforter and drop it in the bed of my truck. Eloise gets in the truck and puts her shoes on.

“Thank you for tonight,” she says.

“Any time.”

“I don’t know.”

“Know what?”

“About the any time. I’m still getting used to the idea of regular meaningless sex.”

Meaningless. That word again.

Pissed off, I step into my underwear and jeans, pull them up, and slip on my shoes. I can’t be bothered to put my T-shirt back on.

When I get in the truck, Eloise says, “Aren’t you going to put your shirt back on?”

“No,” I say and turn on the truck.

We drive in silence for fifteen minutes, the air heavy between us. The longer I think about it, the more I realize this will be fine. She won’t be able to resist feeling like that again. Things between us are good, she just has to realize that.

When I turn onto her street, I say, “Any time you want me to make you feel like that, give me a call.”

“I don’t know, I have to sort things out in my head.”

“What’s there to sort out?”

“The idea of ongoing sex with you. I guess I thought it would be one time, and that you’d fail, just like every other man I’ve ever slept with.”

I interrupt and say, “I’m not every other man.”

“I know, that’s the problem.”

“What’s the problem?” I ask, as I pull up in front of her building.

“You’re not exactly the kind of guy I can bring home to my mom and dad.”

“No, I’m the guy who’ll make your toes curl every time.”

“But I’ve never had a purely sexual relationship before. I’m not sure I can do it.”

“Jewel, this isn’t just sex. You felt it, and I felt it. There’s no point in fighting it.” As the words are leaving my mouth, my mind is reeling at the mention of her parents.

“I have to go,” she says, and she jumps out of the car. She runs to her door so fast all I can do is watch her.

19. Eloise

My legs are still trembling and wobbly from the way Gabe made me feel, but I force myself to my door as fast as I can. I don’t want him to follow me. I don’t want him to walk me to my door. And I can’t handle a kiss good night.

I can’t believe I cried like that, it’s embarrassing.

The key clicks in my door, I fling it open and flick on my lights.

When I step inside, the first thing I see is the rose Gabe brought me. The sight of it makes me break down in tears again.

I hate that I’m crying like this, especially because I don’t understand why I’m crying.

Flicking off the lights, I fumble to my bedroom, shedding my dress as I walk. I don’t bother taking off my makeup, and collapse on my bed.

Ripples of the last orgasm are still pulsing through me, and I close my eyes, embracing them. I had no idea anything could possibly feel so good.

Gabe did what he promised he would, he blew my mind.

Now what?

Do I let him do it again? Can I have a purely sexual arrangement with a man? I’m not sure how they even work.

The dinner and pool playing was fun, but that seems like a normal relationship.

Gabe thinks he felt something more between us, but I’m sure it was only because it was my first time having an orgasm. It was such a big, monumental and, yes, mind-blowing moment in my life that of course I was emotional.

I flip over, and pull the comforter up to my chin.

My mother loved Chet. He was a clean-cut, all-American boy who played football in college and got a good job in the executive trainee program at Kodak.

She would have a heart attack if I brought Gabe home for dinner. And my father, no doubt, would lecture me about the time he had a rebellious phase.

I was always too scared to try anything in college for fear of my parents’ disapproval. Even when all my college friends were going over the border to Canada for the weekends to take advantage of the younger drinking age, I’d make excuses and stay home.

They’re the most wonderful, loving and supportive parents anyone could ever ask for. I definitely lucked out in the parents department. Because of their love, I’ve always trusted and respected their guidance in life. I’ve definitely walked the straight and narrow path of sensibleness.

I can only hope to find a husband as wonderful as my father. Maybe I should start hanging around Sophie and find myself a doctor.

Just thinking about the idea of another man makes my body scream at me. It wants Gabe.

I flip onto my belly, pull the pillow over my head. I try not to think about how much fun we had tonight, even before he touched me.

My mind spins until eventually I fall asleep.

In the morning, gentle waves are still washing through me. Gabe’s magic touch is still with me.

I can’t imagine not ever feeling this way again.

The alarm on my phone goes off and I groan. It’s time to get ready for work. Somehow I think this is going to be a long day. And tomorrow is probably going to be the longest Friday ever.

“Hey, Marcy,” I say, as I arrive at work.

“Eloise, you’re glowing this morning. Why?”

My cheeks burn. I hate that I turn red so easily.

“Dunno, maybe it’s the new moisturizer I bought.”

She looks at me suspiciously but I ignore her and make my way to my room. I put my backpack in the cupboard and prepare the room for the day.

There’s a tap at the door, and my mother pokes her head in.

“Good morning, sweetie. How are you today?” she asks.

I smile, my lips a tight line as I fight turning red.

“Good, Mom. How are you?”

“You know, same as always but today’s going to be a great day.”