Page 44 of Meet Cute Magic

“It’s a date,” I say, and even though I should correct myself, especially when she blushes, I don’t.

And I don’t miss how she doesn’t stop me, either.

CHAPTER 15

Rosie

35 days until Halloween

Lying in bed that night, I’m frustrated.

I tell myself it’s because I’m in a reading slump, something that never happens. Not to me, not when I have an entire bookstore at my fingertips. Not when I have spent my entire life getting lost in books, surely not when my magic is most fond of love stories.

But I’m in a slump and I fucking hate it. The only other time I can remember being in an actual slump was the day before I came down with the flu, when I was in denial of how sickly I felt, my head pounded so bad, and staring at a page made me want to cry.

Right now, I blame it on the mission.

Up until yesterday, I blamed it on the kiss bond that kept my brain thoroughly distracted, desperate to, at the very least, be in the same room with Jack, despite my iron-clad decision to stay away from him until the bond left for good. But an evening kissing him sated that enough so I could think. Now there’s only one real thing fogging my mind, though I won’t admit it.

Jack Haggerty.

Today, with him helping me and then spending almost an hour making out on my couch, felt far too good. Having him pressed against me, resting with my head on his chest, and taking in his uniquely Jack scent felt… right. Letting him help me when I needed it felt more natural than accepting help has ever felt, especially when he understood my unique and sometimes irritating need to figure it out myself, guiding me through every step as he fixed the unit.

I know it’s the bond. In reality, I know that. But I also… I can’t seem to function, which, from my research, doesn’t seem to be a normal side effect.

Maybe it’s because I haven’t had an orgasm in some time. With Phillip around, I haven’t really felt comfortable breaking out any toys and doing some self-care, but maybe that’s my issue. I stare at my side drawer, suddenly feeling that need curling in my belly, and make a split decision.

Self-care will fix this. Right? It has to.

“Keeping boundaries won’t cause gloom, make a sound and ghost barrier for my room,” I say as my fingers shake with sudden, strange nerves. My magic leaves my fingers and coats the walls, ceiling, and floor in glittering pink that, if my heart wasn’t racing so much, I might find pretty.

Instead, I move with haste, shimmying my pants and underwear down before rolling to my bedside table to get my vibrator. It’s the one with a dildo and a vibrating finger on top for my clit, and my pussy clenches as I hold it, at the mere promise of what’s to come.

Literally.

Yes. This is all I need. Just a nice, relaxing evening with my battery-operated boyfriend, because we all know men are nothing like the books when it comes to sex. I click it on and the toy thrums to life and I let out a shaky breath as I move my hands under the covers, my legs spreading and my eyes drifting closed. A breath leaves my lips as I slide the vibrating head over my center, already wet with anticipation, then up and over my clit. The tiniest mewl leaves my mouth, and I bite my lip.

Even though I know my magic is working, I can’t help but feel the need to keep it down, just in case.

My mind moves through all of my normal self-love options from some of my favorite books: a pierced tattoo artist with a daddy kink, a fae who loves hand necklaces, a sweet golden retriever of a man who fucks a woman over the hood of his truck. My usual options don’t pique my interest as they usually do, but eventually, I settle on one I read a few weeks ago about badass women PIs. The male love interest found out who she was while undercover and tied her to the bed while interrogating her until she spilled the beans.

My mind fills with images of being restricted, unable to move, while a man pleasures me, and a shaky breath leaves me. Need courses through my veins as I circle the head of the vibrator over my clit again before sliding down my center and dipping the head in. I groan at the stretch and wonder when the last time I used this one was. I’ve been using my bullet vibe for quick orgasms, but I somehow instinctively knew tonight I would need more to take off the edge.

That’s it, I tell myself as I slide the vibrating cock into me, picturing the man from my book hovering over me, slowly sinking in, teasing and taunting me with the fullness. When it settles deep inside of me, the vibrating finger lays on my clit and I groan. Yes. This is it. I just need to take off the edge, and I’ll stop thinking about Jack. About making out with him and lying with him and kissing him and touching. Him.

I pull the vibrator out then slide it back in, slowly fucking myself as I picture the man from my stories, dark hair flopping forward and a crooked smile as he slides in, teasingly. My hips shift, trying to get more, to change the angle, and I groan when the thick tip grazes along my G-spot.

Suddenly, the faceless fictional character in my mind shifts, a more familiar smirk taking its place. Tousled dark waves fall forward into his face, and those black-rimmed glasses perch on his nose. Full lips pout as I slide the vibrator in deep, a grunt coming from his lips.

Glasses.

The lead in my book didn’t wear glasses, did he?

My hand doesn’t stop moving, though, and I slam the vibrator in deeper, letting it buzz against my clit.

“That’s it, Rosie. Take what you need,” the man in my mind says, but he’s no longer resembling a fictional character.

It’s Jack.