"Of course I didn't tell him what to do," she says. "I just told him you weren't a flowers and dinner kind of girl and he should think outside the box."
"That's all you told him?" I ask. "And who says I'm not a flowers and dinner kind of girl?"
"Come on," Sable whines. "Don't deny me this. How did he do it?"
"Missionary style."
"Hilarious. I don't want to know the position. Did he think outside the box or not?"
I exhale heavily. "He brought me out into the country," I tell her. "In his truck. That sounds a lot lamer than it was."
"So you did it in the back of his pickup truck?" Sable asks, wrinkling her nose like she smells something bad. "When I suggested he think outside the box, I kind of meant a suite at the Four Seasons or something."
"Ok, I'm not telling you anything else."
"No! Keep going! I'll zip my lips. Promise." She makes a fake buttoning gesture and gives me a patiently waiting look.
I roll my eyes. "I'm not telling you any more," I say. "It was outside under the stars and it was very nice and he did well. It was outside of the box. And it was romantic."
Sable grins broadly. "Good. I'm glad neither of you got poison ivy on your junk."
"You're such a bitch."
"Did I wish poison ivy on you or did I literally just say I was glad that neither of you came home with junk-rashes?"
"So Jonathan is your boyfriend, now, right?"
"That's a low blow, bringing relationship labels into this conversation," she says. "We're having fantastic sex and that's that."
"Sure you are."
"Look at you. One time having sex and now you're an expert on no-strings relationships."
"Not one time," I confess, my face warming at the thought of Colton taking me up against the side of his truck.
"You hussy!"
"Was that pride I heard in your tone?"
"My little baby is growing up," Sable sings, wiping a mock tear from her eye. "Colton's not going to know what hit him."
* * *
Sable was right.
It's like a switch got flipped the night Colton and I had sex. I mean, I don't know how I've gone twenty-three years without sex. I thought I had a good idea of what it entailed – it's not like I'm a prude. I had sex toys and my fingers and, really, they worked just fine.
Now, I'm learning "just fine" is nothing compared to Colton King's cock.
Virgin girl goes cock-crazy once she gets a taste. Virgin girl gets debauched and becomes a very bad girl. It's an eye-roll-inducing cliché. Except here I am, practically begging for Colton's dick constantly. I'm a walking ball of need and want and desire, perpetually aroused, wanting Colton to bend me over and take me anywhere, anytime. It's like I'm making up for lost time, trying to cram years of pent-up frustration into one summer of sex.
I've become one of those girls who get a little bit of cock and lose their damn minds.
Except with Colton… it's not a little bit of cock. It's a hell of a lot.
He seems to have a sixth sense, seems to know exactly how to touch me – the right place, the right intensity, the right position – to send me hurtling over the edge so quickly.
And Colton has been only too happy to oblige my crazy sex drive.
In fact, he obliges over and over again.
In my room in the apartment – on the bed, on the desk, on the floor, against the wall. On the sofa, the kitchen counter, on the floor just inside the doorway of my place. In the tutoring room. In the truck at the lake. In his room while I pretend to be helping him study, but I think his roommates know exactly what's going on.
I'm on a sex-induced high, and I don't want to come down from it. The problem is, I have the nagging feeling that it's just a matter of time until it all comes crashing to the ground.
29
Colton
"You have a thing for her." Drew says it into the phone to me, and then repeats it in a whisper that I can totally hear.
"Are you kidding me, Drew? Is Beth right there in the room with you?" I ask. I should have known. Drew and his girlfriend have been joined at the hip since they started dating in eighth grade. They even picked the same college to attend to keep from being separated.
"I'm totally leaving," Beth says. I can hear her loud and clear on the phone now. I hear her stomp on the ground.
"Am I on speaker? Have I been on speaker this whole time?" I ask. "Beth, I came up with that fake-walk-away bullshit when we were twelve, so don't even try it."
"He just put you on speaker, Colt," Beth says.
"Both of you are dead to me."
"Don't be mad, Colt," Beth says. "I made Drew tell me."