Page 131 of The Doctors Will See You Now

I hit send and then thought better of it. Bomb threats and fake fire alarms sounded a little too dicey. I just wanted Amanda to help me out of the situation, not get arrested and questioned by the FBI. Though, maybe I should do it myself. It’d probably end in a cavity search…

No. NO. Thinking like that was a new all-time low for me.

Me: Wait…don’t do those! They could end badly… Oh! Call me and tell me someone has three hours to live, and I need to get there as soon as possible to say my last goodbyes. PLEASE. I’M BEGGING YOU.

Amanda: Nope. You start your dates, you finish them, missy.

Fucking hell.

Unless I could execute a fake emergency on my own, and obviously, with no thanks to Amanda, I was stuck. Which explained why I ended up staying through dinner. And the boring conversation. And the mundane cab ride to Barron’s place…

Fingers and toes crossed the sex is actually worth this hassle…

Barron’s bedroom was exactly what I’d expected. Everything had its place, perfectly angled to showcase its worth and opulence, and all of his paintings, sculptures, and furniture made it obvious he wasn’t shopping at Target. It was a lux, sophisticated apartment with a view of Central Park to boot. Too bad it felt completely devoid of personality.

Further surveying the surroundings, I spotted two armoires that I absolutely adored. Hmmm… I wonder if there’s any fucking chance he got those from IKEA?

I started to ask him, but when I glanced down at his face—which was currently between my thighs—I decided that now probably wasn’t the time to talk about his furniture.

Okay, yeah. I admit it.

I am currently in Barron’s bedroom, and he is, in fact, giving me oral right this very second.

Can I be honest with you guys?

It’s awful.

But thanks to my focus on interior design, you probably already guessed that.

“Does that feel good, Harlow?” he groaned against my skin, and I bit my tongue to avoid saying something along the lines of Please, stop. I think you’re actually making my vagina sad.

“Mmm-hmmm.” I did my best to feign enjoyment. A little sigh. A well-timed gasp.

“God, you taste so good.”

Oh, fuck. Ouch. What’s he got a spear on the end of that thing?

Ugh. I couldn’t do this much longer. I’d always been a lover of the oral, but holy moly, my vagina could only take so much of whatever he was doing with his tongue. I feared she might end up with some kind of emotional trauma if I let this go on any longer. Do they have therapy sessions and antidepressants for pussies?

Maybe if we just skip the foreplay and go to the sex, it’ll get better?

Some women might have given up, but sex was the reason I’d sat through that dinner and engaged in the most boring small talk ever to exist in the history of humans. Goddammit, I was getting some glimmer of enjoyment out of this if I had to take his penis hostage and do all the fucking myself.

“Fuck me, Barron,” I whispered, redirecting the sad sex train and forcing it somewhere more illicit. He looked up at me with a gleam in his eyes.

Yes. Keep going, Harlow. This just might work…

“Please, fuck me, Barron,” I said again, and instantly, he took action.

The man was on a mission as he quickly removed his pants and briefs, revealing a nicely shaped and sized penis. Thank God. And after the world’s quickest condom placement, he moved between my thighs and started to slide inside of me.

Okay. This is better…

One thrust. Two thrusts. Three more thrusts and I was actually starting to enjoy the feel. Hell, I was even starting to think the entire mundane night had been worth it. The mouth didn’t match the penis, that was for damn sure. His conversational and oral skills were subpar compared to what he could do during sex.

“Turn over,” he urged between panting breaths. “Let me see your perfect ass, baby.”

Ugh. Baby. God, I fucking hated when guys called me baby. Still, it’s okay. This is at least going in the right direction. Don’t lose focus, Harlow.