The Lying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #5)(72)

The other thumb joins the party, parting me.

I’ve never had anyone go down on me while I was standing up; Abe is full of firsts for me. First orgasm.

First boyfriend.

First love.

I can’t even handle the sensation of what’s happening to me right now, cannot focus on what it feels like because there is a guy giving me oral while I’m standing over him.

I’m standing up. Receiving oral.

How do I…

What do I….

“Oh god, Abe, I think I might tip over.” I haven’t yet. But I might.

But I can’t because then he’ll stop and it won’t feel good.

“You’re not going to tip over, baby. I’ve got you.” His hands are back on my ass, fingers precariously close to my crack.

I tug at his hair when he sucks harder, teeth giving my clit another nip, urging him on. Gyrate my hips like a porn star as he…as he…shakes his head a bit, going deeper.

“Mmm,” I moan, head tipping toward the ceiling. Lashes fluttering so fast I can hardly focus.

Thumbs. Fingers. Tongue. Teeth.

Wet, wet.

“Fuck Skylar, I could dine on your pussy every night for dinner it tastes so fucking good.”

My pussy tastes good, my pussy tastes good…yes it fucking does.

Shit. Now I’m swearing to myself.

It takes Abe a few more minutes to finish me off and have me trembling—and when he does, he pulls me on top of him.

Rolls me to my back and straddles me, bending for a kiss.

I can taste myself, the sex on his mouth and tongue, and I don’t hate it. It’s musky and hot.

Okay, fine. So it’s a bit gross—but I’m not about to go telling him that; he’s getting off on it. I can feel his erection through his pants, rock hard against my leg.

Together we push the elastic waistband down.

He’s not wearing any underwear, and I’m soaking wet.

Easy in…

Easy out…

I gasp when he slides inside, still swollen and sensitive from my orgasm.

“You’re so wet,” he groans into my neck, arms braced above my head, caging me in. Cradling me. Rocking back and forth, back and forth…deeper and deeper…every muscle tight. Every nerve alive.

Our pelvises touching he’s so deep inside…

“Holy fuck, oh fuck, I think I’m gonna come.”

Huh?

Glassy-eyed, I’m on the verge of coming a second time and want desperately to know what that feels like.

He cannot be serious.

It hasn’t even been two minutes.

“I’m sorry,” he grunts, still pumping, skin damp.

A few more thrusts and the hot heat of him is inside me; I can feel it filling me and I marvel at the sensation.

A few more seconds and his hips jerk. Body twitches.

He pulls out, rolls over.

Pulls his arm out from under me and lays it over his eyes, dick blowing in the breeze, having spent itself prematurely.

“I can’t even look at you right now,” he mumbles.

“Why?” I laugh, planting a kiss on the side of his neck. I take a whiff of him; he smells so, so good and tastes salty.

“Because he came in one minute and forty-seven seconds!” Hannah shouts from her bedroom. “I timed it. Sorry folks—I am what I am!”

“Jesus Christ, why is she like that?” Abe moans, mouth grimacing.

“I don’t know, babe. She just is.” As I trail a finger down his sternum, he shivers. “But. The good news is, she’d shank someone for me. And now that she’s on Team Abe, she’ll shank them for you, too.”

“She’s right! I will cut a bitch!”

“I think you need an apartment with thicker walls.” He blindly feels around for his pants. Locating them near my bed, he tugs them into place. “You’re moving in with me. JB is out, Skylar is in.”

He’s joking—of course he is—but it still sends butterflies soaring within my stomach.

“That sounds nice.”

“Get a room!” Hannah gives the wall a tap with what sounds like a spoon.

“We have a room!” Abe and I both yell back, laughing when we lock eyes.

Hannah huffs. I can literally hear it through the paper-thin walls. “Well go in the living room then!”

So we do.





Hannah



Three months later…


Skylar and Abe make me ill.

Oh, relax. Not in a sick, vomit enducing, I’m going to puke kind of way. Just…the kind of ill that makes me want the same thing for myself. A jealous, I want that, kind of feeling in the pit of my stomach when they’re around the apartment.

I want what they have.

It’s too damn bad I act like such an asshole half of the time.

Guys hate that.

They want sweet. Bidable. Sexy.

I am none of those things.

Fiddling with my phone, I tap open the LoveU app. Smile when I see a new match; grin when I open his profile and read: Rex Gunderson. 24.

Yo yo yo ladies, I’m an alum, back in town for the next few semesters pitching in at the athletic building and wouldn’t mind your company. A few things about me: fun-cle to a baby girl (she’s not actually my neice but who cares). Hilarious. Big boy job. Has my own place. Loves fancy shit but prefer to do them in my sweats or j’s. You: are legal and over the age of 18.