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Charlene chews on the inside of her lip. “What should I tell them?”
“What do you want to tell them?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like we’re superfreaks or anything.”
I fight a smile. We’re far from superfreaks, although Charlene’s collection of toys, outfits, and props would lead some to believe otherwise. “So maybe that’s what you tell them.”
“Violet might be upset.”
“Why?” Violet doesn’t strike me as judgemental. From what I understand, she likes to dress up Alex’s cock as a super hero, which is fucking weird. But then Alex is also a little off center, so there’s that.
“Because she’s always been open with me, and I haven’t been the same with her. I sort of let her come to her own conclusions. I let all the girls come to their own conclusions, but now they’re going to have all these ideas. It’s one thing for them to speculate when there was no evidence to support it, but this is different. It was kind of fun to keep them guessing, and I never figured they would take me seriously. Now they’ll want to know what’s really going on.”
I trail my fingers down her spine, enjoying her shiver. “I can take the blame for all the secrecy.”
“I like the secrecy. I liked that what we had was just ours.” Charlene murmurs, eyes on my chin. “I just don’t want Violet to be hurt.”
“And you’re worried about that?” I prompt.
“It’ll be fine. She’ll be fine,” she says, possibly as much to herself as to me.
“You’re sure?” I don’t understand why Violet would be hurt, but then she’s a woman, and sometimes I don’t understand their reactions to things. Even Charlene, who I can read fairly well most of the time, has odd reactions on occasion.
She nods pensively. “I mean, I guess the most awkward part is that all my girlfriends’ significant others have seen me naked. But it could be worse, right? At least it wasn’t the whole team.”
Charlene is referencing the time Alex and Violet were caught fucking in the locker room. Alex had been ejected from the game for beating the shit out of a Toronto player. The guy had been taunting him, so it was somewhat understandable. The entire team walked into the locker room as a woman was screaming her way through an orgasm. That woman turned out to be Violet, now his wife.
All I saw were her legs wrapped around his waist.
In this case, all of our closest friends have seen Charlene’s pierced nipples, so it’s a little different, but I’d prefer to lessen her anxiety over this, rather than make it worse, so I don’t point that out. “Fortunately it was only a few of the guys.”
“What’re you going to tell them?”
I lift a shoulder. “I don’t have plans to tell them anything.”
“But won’t they ask questions?”
It’s my turn to shrug. “They can ask, doesn’t mean I’m going to answer.”
“But you can’t tell them nothing.”
I don’t understand her sudden panic. “Is there something you want me to tell them?”
“No. I don’t know. Just . . . all that stuff in the living room sort of paints its own picture, doesn’t it?”
“And that concerns you?”
“They’re going to think you use all that stuff on me.”
“You’re the one who surrounded yourself with it.”
“It was all stuff I thought you might be interested in,” she mumbles.
“Ah, now the truth comes out, but I’ll keep that little detail to myself, if that’s what you prefer.” I untwine our hands and hook her leg over my hip. “We can discuss details later, over dinner. Right now I have plans to fill you up again.”CHARLENE
Ever have one of those dreams where you know it’s not real but you can’t seem to pull yourself out of it? It happens to me all the time. I have this recurring nightmare where I’m locked in an RV and there’s no way out. The RV gets smaller and smaller, like I’m Alice in Wonderland and I’ve eaten the wrong thing. I’m growing, growing, growing while everything else is shrinking, shrinking, shrinking.
I wake up and instantly go into panic mode because I can’t move. It takes me several blinks and just as many seconds to realize I’m not in my bedroom, I’m in Darren’s, and it’s him I’m trapped under. Well, I’m not exactly under him, but he’s wrapped completely around me, which is . . . abnormal.
Usually Darren sleeps like Dracula, on his back with his arms crossed over his chest, and I starfish on the other side of the bed. But not today. Today we’re spooning.
I try to slip out from under his arm, but it tightens around me. “Oh no you don’t.” His voice is gravelly in my ear, and his lips brush my neck. “I’m taking full advantage of the fact that you being here means I don’t have to rub one out in the shower.”
