Heat swamps me at his words. If ovaries can spontaneously combust—mine just did. Here is the man who has starred in every sex dream I've ever had, well except for the ones containing The Rock, because well, I am a woman. But, here is the man of my dreams, my best friend who I have loved since I was fifteen, offering to give me a baby. I panic.
"White, we can't."
"Oh yeah, honey. We definitely can. I'll show you."
"I mean, we should wait," I continue on with my panic, trying to pull away from him slightly, but not with a lot of effort because it feels too damn good.
"What for?"
"We need to make sure both of us are healthy, nothing… you know."
"Nothing?" he repeats, as if he's confused as hell. He probably is. I am, I just can't concentrate on that emotion right now because my body is missing him torturing it.
"Yeah," I sigh defeated, wondering if it would be bad form to pull his head back to my breast. I'm the one here telling him, after all.
"Are you saying you're afraid I have an STD?"
"Well, I mean not really, but it's possible. I just think if I'm going to have a baby we should make sure that we're both completely healthy," I tell him, staring up at the ceiling wishing I had kept my big mouth shut.
"Fine, then we'll use protection."
"Isn't that like wasting the baby batter?"
"Wasting the… baby batter?" he parrots, as if he might worry about my sanity. He needn't worry; I'm worrying enough for both of us.
"I mean, the appointment is just—"
"Fine," he growls, but he drops to his knees.
"What are you doing?" I question and then I gasp and moan at the same time. "Oh, God."
White's face dives between my legs. His tongue pushing in, licking through the warm water of the shower, and then parting the lips of my pussy. At the first brush of his tongue against the tender skin there, my knees buckle. I grasp the walls of the shower, holding on for dear life.
"You don't want my baby batter right now? I can deal, until we get that damn appointment out of the way, Kayla."
"Good. Okay. Oh God, that's so good," I mumble and then moan as he sucks my clit into his mouth, the force pinning it to the roof of his mouth and he runs his tongue along it too. Sweet Jesus, I didn't even know you could do that.
"But you better believe I'm going to prime your baby cannon and get it ready for loading."
Baby cannon? Did he just say that? While eating me out? Baby cannon. Then the strangest thing happens. I envision a picture of me with my legs open and a baby shooting out from me as if I was in fact a baby cannon. The baby is all covered up in a blanket like it was special ordered, and I laugh. I laugh loudly.
This can sound strange to you. It's okay. It does to me. But I've barely had sex in my nearly thirty years. I've never let myself go in all this time. I've always worried about if the person was turned off by my hips being too wide or my legs being covered in cellulite, or my broad ass, or my breasts which were too big and sagged. The list goes on, and that's not even mentioning the stretch marks, or the odd moles I have that seem too large for my liking. Sex has been a chore, a trial, something I did to make the other person happy and then later I could always find my vibrator.
But I’m here, naked in the shower with my best friend—the man I love with everything inside of me, the man I just stopped by telling him he might have an STD, that man—and I'm laughing. I'm laughing and aroused.
How is that possible? Before I can think about it any further, I feel him sliding his fingers inside of me while his tongue continues to lick against my clit. I stop thinking altogether. Thinking is definitely overrated.
CHAPTER 20
WHITE
"You're being quiet again," I whisper. I feel out of my depth here. I can't read what she's thinking. Does she regret what happened in the shower? Does she want me to leave? I've never had to worry about this shit before. This is new territory. No. Kayla is new territory and I'm walking on eggshells.
"I'm sleepy," she whispers into the darkness, and that tells me exactly nothing.
After the shower, I stripped and washed us both off, mostly because Kayla was pretty boneless. A man should take pride in that—and I do. Then I dug around in her dresser for some old sweats and a t-shirt that I have here. We ate and watched a movie. It's been a great night, but it didn't go as I thought it would. Somehow in my mind, us having sex, or even just sharing what we did, was the cure-all. Once that was done, we'd either be on solid ground as just friends, or this fantasy of being with Kayla would be out of my system. Neither of those things happened. I'm still so fucking hard it feels like the top of my dick is about to explode. Worse, it feels like Kayla is pushing away from this arrangement even more. How did it go so wrong? I was supposed to tie her to me and stop her from backing away. Fuck, if the opposite isn't happening. Jesus, I used to be able to handle women so easily. They begged for my attention. Now, I feel like I’m the one on the verge of begging.