The Randy Romance Novelist(21)

“You literally have made me speechless. I have nothing to say to you, Rosie.”

“You’re no help,” I said, spreading the lips on my vagina to get a closer look. Just as I was about to get an up close and personal with my “bean,” from the corner of my eye, I saw Sir Licks-a-Lot charging at me like Braveheart on his horse, one paw in the air, and a meow-like war cry escaping his cat mouth. His sights were set on my exposed area, as if he was just dying to have a * to * high five with me.

I screamed bloody murder and stuck my foot out as a force field, just as Henry opened the door to our apartment. Sir Licks-a-Lot was mid-jump when my knife hand connected with the side of his body, deflecting him to the side of the couch, where he clamped onto the water bottle and ran off with it.

“That demon,” I screamed, legs still spread, vagina still open for everyone to see.

Confusion was etched all over Henry’s face as he took in the scene before him. “Uh, hey, love. Getting a good look at your * for me?”

“Is Henry home?” Delaney called out over the speaker phone. “I hope so because I am done talking about your purple, heavy weighted, ankle tickling vagina. My best friend duties are over. Peace out, crazy. Call me once you’ve tested out some strippers.”

Delaney hung up the phone, leaving Henry and me to ourselves. Without saying a word, he walked over to me, kneeled before my spread legs, and asked, “Your vagina has been tickling your ankles?”

Before I could answer, his tongue was on me, melting me straight into the couch. All my worries and concerns were washed away the minute Henry’s mouth descended upon me.

***

“Henry, the Chinese food is getting cold!” I called out from the kitchen. I was wearing Henry’s shirt he wore to work, sleeves rolled up, of course, and Henry was just getting out of the shower.

It was Friday night, and instead of going out to the bars like Henry used to, he was snuggling up next to me and watching one of my favorite romantic comedies, When Harry Met Sally.

Two months ago, Henry could be found at some of the hippest clubs in the city, staying out until two in the morning, only to wake up at six to go to work. Now, he found himself tucked away in our modest apartment near Broadway, eating takeout, and watching sappy movies with me.

I was one hell of a lucky girl.

I worried sometimes that maybe he missed his old life, but whenever I brought it up, he always shut down that thought quickly. Pretty sure he was starting to get annoyed with my insecurities over our relationship, but honestly, it was one of the first ones I’d ever had, and Henry was really hot. I told him all the time he was out of my league, which he just laughed at and told me otherwise.

“Did you get spring rolls?” Henry asked, walking toward me in only a pair of sweats and a towel in hand, drying off his short brown hair. I took a moment to reflect on his well-cut chest and muscular arms, flexing with every movement. I drooled over the small beads of water that dripped off his head and the way his eyes lit up whenever he saw me.

“Uh, what?”

A smile crossed his face as he tossed the towel to the side and walked up behind me. He wrapped his arms around my stomach and kissed my neck gently. He didn’t shave, so his five o’clock shadow rubbed against my sensitive skin, sending shocks of pleasure down to my toes. I would never get tired of this . . . ever.

“Did you get spring rolls?” he asked again, nuzzling my ear.

“I think so?” I said in a question form. Not really sure what I’d ordered at this point, thanks to Henry’s ability to completely consume me.

“Well, let’s take a look.” Henry unlatched himself from my stomach, but still stood pressed up against me, looking over my shoulder. Searching through the beg, he pulled out a little bag of spring rolls. “I knew my girl wouldn’t fail me.” He kissed the side of my cheek and backed away, leaving me breathless and needy.

I turned around to face him, placed my hands on the counter behind me and unbuttoned part of the shirt I was wearing so I knew my cleavage would show. Henry had a spring roll halfway to his mouth when he saw my position.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Do you really think you can come in here, shirtless, and press yourself against me without turning me on?”

“Maybe,” he smiled.

“Guess again. What are you going to do about it?”

“Eat my food,” he wiggled his eyebrows and then bit into his spring roll. He turned to grab some plates and brought them over to the counter, so we could start to pile our food on top of them.

Confused, I asked, “Are you really not going to have sex with me right now?”

“Is that what you wanted?”

I gave him a “duh” look. “Of course, why else would I unbutton the top buttons on my shirt?”

“Technically, that’s my shirt.” He grinned. “And I just gave you an orgasm and pretty sure you jacked me off in the shower a few moments ago.”

“Oh, my God!” I swatted his stomach. “Don’t be so crude.”

“Okay, if you didn’t jack me off, what did you do?” He was testing me; he was always testing me.

“I stroked your love stick,” I answered him, not playing into his stupid word game challenge.

He shook his head in disappointment. “And for that answer, I will be eating my Chinese now. If you’d said something else, I might have taken care of that little horny problem you’ve been having lately. Oh, and by the way, when I was eating you out as my appetizer earlier, your * didn’t look at all purple to me, nor did it feel heavy. It was perfect.”