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And this fucking guy? He’s just asked me a question that’s the equivalent of sending me an unsolicited dick pic and asking if I’m horny.
“Do you need me to repeat that, Kara?” the host asks, shooting me a sickly-sweet smile.
“Oh, no need,” I say flippantly. “Not all of us are hard of hearing, honey.”
As the crowd roars with laughter, I rack my brain for an answer.
I mean, it’s a hell of a question, but I’m not some fucking virgin. I’ve fucked. I’ve sucked. I’ve blown and been blown.
There has to be one moment that’s more special than the rest.
I just need to put my slutty little finger on it.
I know if Ryan is watching me right now, he’s probably drooling in the hopes that I might name him on live television as the best sex of my life—but he can take a fucking hike.
If I have to narrow it down to just one bang, then it’s obviously either with Chase or Eric—or is it Chase and Eric?
Memories of my time with them play out like a movie reel in my mind.
Chase and Eric, shirtless and swathed in steam, coming towards me in the Power Plus showers. Stroking their huge, gorgeous 12-inch cocks and looking at me like I’m a piece of cheesecake on cheat day.
The leather straps around my wrists as Eric cuffs me to his bedposts—the way it felt when he moved inside me, the ‘I love you’ on his lips, and the taste of my cunt in his kiss.
My honey smeared up and down Chase’s dick as I rode him beneath the squat rack, the way he looked at me like I was the most beautiful fucking thing in the universe, and the huge, gaping hole his dick tore through my yoga pants.
Hell, I could even talk about what just happened backstage literally moments ago. The way Eric held me, talking dirty in my ear while Chase made me orgasm so hard against his mouth that I nearly had an out-of-body experience, for fuck’s sake.
But no—none of them sum it up right. How the hell am I supposed to explain to this stadium full of people the incredible fucking experience I had with Chase and Eric?
That’s just it, isn’t it?
I can’t.
I fucking can’t.
“I don’t have a story about the best sex of my life,” I admit into the microphone.
The sound reverberates around the arena. It’s quickly joined by the collective gasp of the crowd.
“Oh, you poor thing—” the host coos at me with a nasty grin that only grows nastier.
I hold my hand up to stop him before he goes any further.
“You must be fucking terrible in bed, dude,” I say—also into the mic. “I’m not fucking finished.”
The crowd roars with laughter again—and that’s when I know that I’ve got ‘em.
“The best sex of my life isn’t just one crazy night. One wild memory. It’s not a fucking 3000-word scene in some smutty fucking novel,” I tell the captivated audience. “Maybe it’s not the same for the rest of you—and that’s okay, everyone’s different.
“But for me, sex isn’t just one moment. Sex is an entire experience. It’s pleasure. It’s passion. It’s your nails marking his back and your teeth at his throat...It’s your eyes rolling to the back of your head while your body convulses like it’s being electrocuted by his dick.”
I bite my lip, settling back and letting that little image sink in. I know they’re all imagining me like that right now, and it’s the sexiest thing. Fuck, I’m getting even wetter just thinking about it.
“The best sex of my life has been an experience,” I continue. “Not with just one man—but with two.”
The crowd gasps.
Then, they fucking hoot and holler and cheer while
