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“Does sex feel better for them than before, or do they just do it to please a woman?”
I blink.
What the hell happened to Pumpkin Pia? Because she’s not the one I’m fucking talking to right now.
“They do it for the woman’s pleasure, which in turn, gives them enough to jack off too. It’s a win-win.” A brief flinch blinks across her intrigued expression.
The clicking of keys temporarily fills the apartment as she types what I can only assume are notes, like the good little student she is.
“Do guys like when women pierce their nipples? Tarrah swears they do, although I don’t understand why,” she says over her shoulder.
“How would she…” The question gets lodged in my throat like a bad allergic reaction.
Unfortunately, Pumpkin doesn’t take the hint and continues with information I never wanted to have.
“Hers are pierced.” She flashes her innocent gaze in my direction as if she didn’t just suck the soul right out of me. Laughing, she continues to render me speechless—and disgusted. “She always says how glad she is that her performance bodysuits have supportive padding for her chest. Otherwise, the audience would get an eyeful.”
My jaw tenses as I grind out, “No part of me wanted to know any of that about my little sister.”
She shrugs as her fingers press the laptop keys as easily as mine pluck the strings on Becky. Pumpkin is unusually cool and collected, which in turn, makes me restless. Is she drunk? Or high? Those can be the only explanations, right?
When she slaps the laptop closed again and stands, I jerk in place, and as she sidesteps me, I try not to inhale her scent—the sweet one that complements her personality.
I thought it did, anyway, but tonight, she threw me for a fucking loop.
“Thanks,” she chirps and taps at her phone, disappearing into her room.
I stare at her closed door for long, strenuous seconds as I imagine her tucking the laptop into her panty drawer like a secret vibrator, then undressing until she’s wearing only a black lacy thong.
Crawling underneath the chilled covers and dragging an eager finger between her legs as she pictures the scenes she described—with me as the lead character.
I jam my hand through my hair and spin in place, jarred and turned on.
It was a bad idea to snoop on her just now. As bad as it was to go through her panty drawer while she was at work yesterday. It was another rule I broke without remorse until now, although it will remain my little secret.
But the damage has been done. I found out she does have a flimsy lace thong that didn’t even cover my middle finger, let alone any body part. That should’ve been enough to tell me she has a wild side, but I didn’t believe it until now.
It feels like Pumpkin whacked me with my guitar, and I can’t seem to get my bearings. The scarce colors of the apartment blur into one kaleidoscope of confusion.
Where the fuck is my room?
With her muffled voice on the phone behind her closed door, I spin to the left and right until I finally retreat into the dark privacy of the room I’ve been sleeping in. The comforter is mostly white, with a whimsical floral pattern along the edge. It was left by the old roommate, and since this is temporary for me, I haven’t bothered to change it.
Instead of diving onto it and passing out as I should, I rush to the bathroom, lock the door behind me, and shove my hand into my pants.
I fist my throbbing dick, pumping it up and down with painful vigor to thoughts of Pumpkin in her tantalizing pajama shorts, along with the filthy words coming out of her mouth and mind.
When I’m pulsing with my release, it’s to the phantom taste of her on my lips.
Chapter 3
Pia
Tarrah called last night to tell me she bumped into Zeke, a bougie restaurant owner she was sleeping with last year.
Apparently, he’s still as fine and sculpted as French chocolate. She then proceeded to speak in French, but she doesn’t know the language. It sounded more like a baby’s first words.
I may or may not have written that conversation down for future use in a book, assuming I ever finish the one I’m currently drafting. Between work, friends, and searching for a new roommate before Elijah showed up, it’s been hard to put words on paper.
