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Three months later…
Orgasms were great,but Becca would really like to try sex.
She knew having a really sweet boyfriend who wanted everything to be perfect for her and who was determined to take his time and show her all kinds of deliciousotherthings first was amazing. She knew lots of women wished their men took more time with foreplay and would spend more time on things like oral sex.
But…comeonalready.
She and Beau had been dating for three months now and it had been a lot of fun. They saw each other every other weekend at a minimum despite the five-hour drive between them and in between those visits he’d introduced her to sexting and phone sex.
It had only taken about two weeks for her to convince him that she wasall inoneverythingand she was more than ready to take their friendship not just to a romantic place but very much to a physical place. He’d been pretty easy to persuade.
But they still hadn’t doneit. He was holding back from that, insisting that when it happened it had to be perfect. Romantic. Sweet. Memorable.
Becca blew out a breath and took another sip of theverystrong punch her friend Lexi had made for the party tonight.
That perfect romantically sweet, memorable night was supposed to be tonight.
And he was late.
Really late.
He’d texted. She knew he was okay. She knew he was on his way. But he was runningthreehours behind because he’d gotten swamped at work and he was really sorry and everything.
She believed him.
Kind of.
At the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder if he wasreallysorry.
Their night was all off track now and whileshedidn’t care—he could throw her in the bed of his truck and strip her naked there and she’d shoutalleluia!—hewould care. He’d already “rescheduled” this romantic night of lovemaking twice.
Once because her roommate, Savannah, had had a fight with her boyfriend and had thus lost the place she’d been planning to spend the night while Beau rocked Becca’s world. Savannah had had other options—which she and Becca had both told him—but Beau had insisted that Savannah stay in her own room with her best friend and that he and Becca could reschedule.
Becca had asked why they couldn’t go to a hotel. He’d said he didn’t want to stain the hotel sheets with the chocolate covered strawberries he was going to bring.
She’d rolled her eyes aboutallllllof that.
The second time he’d cancelled had been because she’dstupidlymentioned that she’d had a stomachache the day before. The. Day.Before.
Becca was absolutely convinced at this point that he was just trying to get out of it. And that madenosense.
He very much enjoyed all the other stuff they did.Verymuch. It was obvious.
And he was sweet and romantic and dirty and sexy duringallof that. He’d taught her things like how to give the perfect blow job and that when a guy said, “sit on my face” he meant, “siton my face”. All the way. No hovering. No bracing yourself with your legs or with your hands on the headboard.
He’d taught her about toys. He’d taught her about lube. He’d taught her the difference between orgasms with fingers, tongues, and toys.
But he hadn’tfuckedher.
And she was so ready.
And now he was three damned hours late for the Big Night.
“He’s still not here?” Savannah asked, sliding in next to where Becca was leaning against the living room wall. Here she could be out of the way of everyone dancing and playing beer pong, but could still see the door where Beau would enter.
“Nope.” She took another drink. Then handed the glass to Savannah. “Here, take this away from me. I’m sure if he thinks I’m ‘too drunk’ he’ll just use that as an excuse not to do it tonight.”
Savannah, of course, knew everything. She wasthatkind of best friend. The kind you told everything. Even the I-don’t-think-my-boyfriend-wants-to-have-sex-with-me embarrassing stuff.
