Page 87 of Under Her

“Are you disputing the fact that I have a massive dick?”

“Never.” She flashes her eyes at me. “So, am I to guess that I’m going to the door if a woman delivers the food?”

“Yep.”

“Well, you might be comfortable with flashing your junk to complete strangers, but I’m not so keen on showing the girls to strange women.”

“So, I’m taking it, that would also be a no to bringing the delivery girl inside, so the three of us could act out a porno fantasy of mine?”

“You ass!” she yells, shoving me in the chest.

I grab her hands, forcing her to her back, and pin them over her head. I dip my mouth to hers and kiss her. She responds immediately, moaning softly against my lips.

I fucking love how responsive she is to me.

I lift my mouth from hers and stare into her eyes. “I was kidding, babe. I’m not sharing you with anyone. Not even a hot delivery girl.”

She gives me a playful scowl. I kiss her one more time and then fall back onto my side, beside her.

She turns to face me, putting her hands under her head, a thoughtful look on her face. “Have you ever had a threesome before?” she asks.

And if that isn’t a loaded question.

“You really want me to answer?”

She nods.

“Yes.”

She doesn’t react like I thought she would. I honestly expected her to get pissed. But she still looks thoughtful.

Then, a thought occurs to me. “Have…you?”

Her lips lift at the corners. “You really want me to answer?” she tosses my words back at me.

I think for a moment. Do I want to know? Yes, if it was with another girl and guy. No, if it was with two dudes.

I don’t know why, but the thought of Morgan with two guys makes me want to punch a hole in my wall.

“Okay, just answer me this…hypothetically, if you did have a threesome…how many vaginas attended this party for three?”

She pulls her hand out from under her head and holds up one finger.

“Then, fuck no. I don’t want to know.”

She chuckles. “Are you jealous at the thought of me being with two guys?”

“Babe, I’m jealous at the thought of you being with any other guys. Jesus. Was this at Northwestern? ’Cause I was kind of under the impression that you were…”

“What?” Her eyes narrow a little.

Word this very carefully, Cross. You’re treading on thin ice here.

“You just didn’t party much. And I don’t remember you having a boyfriend at college.”

“I didn’t. And it wasn’t at Northwestern.”

“Thank God because there might have been a chance I knew the fuckers, and then I’d have to go kick the shit out of them.”