Sex Says(52)

I was really starting to hate that word, which was preposterous. I was a lover of all words. Even the weird ones that everyone hated like moist or yolk or gurgle.

But last night, Reed had left me unfulfilled—and that was the worst ending for a story that starts and climaxes in desire.

So I had fantasized. And fantasized. Until I had no other choice but to lose myself to that fantasy and find release with Reed’s name on my lips—three times.

Seriously, what is wrong with me?

It’s one thing to be simply attracted to someone, but it’s a whole other bag of problems when you’re masturbating to thoughts of them repeatedly.

I probably needed to be medicated. Or maybe I needed sex.

Yeah, sex. I bet sex with Reed is—

Jesus. Let me rephrase: maybe I needed to have sex with someone who wasn’t Reed. It had been over two months since my last date. Maybe I just needed to dive back into the dating market and find a suitable guy to bring back to my place and get naked with.

Right? I asked in self-assessment.

My vagina all but packed her bags and jumped ship in answer.

Fuck. Get it together, I told her. The memo went out weeks ago; Reed Luca is bad fucking news.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

My head tilted to the side in curiosity. It was half past nine p.m., and clearly, I wasn’t expecting company.

I glanced up from my laptop—where I was currently acting like I was writing, but in reality, I was taking an online quiz that would tell me where I should travel based off of my cheese preferences—and stared at the door as I tested my telepathic abilities to tell them to go away.

Knock. Knock.

I obviously needed a little practice with telepathy.

I looked over at Louie, who was doing that weird sleepy fish thing where it looked like he was awake or dead, but in reality, he was in a food coma from eating one too many fish pellets. “Well, you’re no help,” I muttered. “I mean, if you were a cat or a dog, I could train you to answer the door for me. Thanks for nothing, dude.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Fucking persistent, aren’t you?” I mumbled in annoyance and looked down at my clothes—sleep shorts, a tank top, and leg warmers. It was what most would describe as, “I’ve called it a night.” Definitely not entertaining company attire.

If it weren’t for that one time the Chinese delivery guy accidentally brought food to the wrong apartment, I wouldn’t have even bothered with answering the door, but…Crab Rangoon. I knew asking for that scenario to happen twice in the same month was wishful thinking, but a girl could dream, right?

On the tips of my toes, I did a dainty run across the plush carpet of my apartment until I reached the door. It seemed like the solid wood had barely left the frame when my olfactory system was consumed with the drugging smell of soft vanilla and cigarettes. A few more inches, and I was face-to-face with endless pools of blue that my body honestly wanted to swim inside.

Did he really have to be so tempting?

I groaned and felt like shouting, Are you serious, universe! but settled on something slightly less outrageous.

“Oh, great. It’s just you. What do you want?”

Reed perused my haphazard attire for a few seconds and then flashed a dimpled, devilish smile in my direction. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“I had high hopes you were a Chinese food delivery angel here to give me a bag full of chicken lo mein and Crab Rangoon.”

He grinned. “Disappointed?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Are you going to invite me in?”

I shrugged. “That depends.”

He rested his palm against the doorframe. “On what?”

“Why are you here?”

“To see you.”

I raised an eyebrow and rested my hip against the doorjamb. “To see me? At this hour of the night?”

“This hour of the night?” He questioned with a smirk. “It’s not even ten.”

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes. “You can come in, but you’ve got about thirty minutes, and then I’m sending your cocky ass packing because I need to get back to writing.”

And masturbating. Lots and lots of masturbating.

The door shut with a quiet click as he walked into my apartment and made himself comfortable on my sofa with a big smile on his face.

“Please, by all means—” I gestured my hand around my apartment dramatically “—make yourself comfortable.”

“Thanks,” he responded, stretching an arm across the back. “I will.”

“Well…do you want something to drink?” I asked after a few beats of silence, struggling a little to play hostess. How does one act when they want to bang and banish someone all at once? “I’ll warn you, though, if your answer is yes, all I have is water or coffee. I haven’t been to the grocery store in days.”