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“Because,” he answered her baffled question, “I don’t think you actually enjoy giving the ‘best damned head.’ And I know that if I ask you straight up if you like it, you’re going to give me another bullshit evasive answer.”
“I don’t have to enjoy it,” she snapped. “As long as you do. Isn’t that the point of a blow job?”
“Darling, do you think I didn’t relish every fucking second of what I did to you earlier? The taste of you, the way you melted in my mouth, your sounds, your hands in my hair . . . biggest turn-on of my life. I could have feasted all night. Can you honestly say you would have enjoyed reciprocating as much?”
“How should I know? You didn’t give me the opportunity.”
Fair point.
“Daff, if you go down on me, I don’t want it to be because you think you have to. I don’t want you to ever feel forced to do anything. Everything we do here is meant to be for our mutual pleasure.”
“And you’re saying a blow job wouldn’t have given you pleasure?”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. And while we’re on the subject, what the fuck was that other shit about?”
She flushed and evaded his eyes. “I thought we could try something interesting and different.”
“Fuck that, you were hating every second of it. You did it because you thought you had to, didn’t you? Because you thought I’d like it. You thought I’d enjoy cutting off your air and making you fight for breath. News flash, darling, I can make you gasp without deliberately restricting your fucking oxygen supply. And the thought of hurting you in any way makes me want to vomit. What fucking asshole made you believe that men want to hurt you?”
That seemed to hit the mark, and her lips trembled in her pale face. Her eyes skidded around the room, never once meeting his.
“I don’t think we should do this anymore.”
“Why? Because I’m hitting a nerve?”
“This experiment is over, Spencer. This is more stress than it’s worth. It was supposed to be a little bit of fun for both of us, and you turned it into more than it is. I should have known better than to get involved with you.” She got up and glared at him. “Why couldn’t you just lie back and enjoy what I was offering, like a normal guy? Why did you have to make it weird?”
“I’m not the one who made it weird! Who gave you all these hang-ups?”
“I’m not the one with the hang-ups. What kind of red-blooded male won’t take what I’ve been offering?”
“This kind.” He jerked a thumb to his chest and glared at her, allowing her the height advantage because he didn’t want her to feel intimidated when she already looked like she was close to her breaking point. “You were never completely on board, Daff. Admit it. And to be honest, neither was I. I don’t want a no-strings sex thing. I want strings, lots of strings. I want a chance to get to know you, to spend time with you, to be a couple.”
Spencer wasn’t one for talking much, but sometimes shit needed saying and this was one of those moments. He could be an eloquent fucker when the mood struck, and right now, it was important to let her know exactly what he wanted.
“I don’t want that. Not all women want that. If that’s what you’re looking for, then I’m not the woman for you. I don’t do the normal couple thing, Spencer. I told you. It doesn’t suit me.”
He ran a tired hand through his hair and watched her helplessly. There was really no way forward from this point. He wanted more than he could have, more than she could or would give. So it was time to cut his losses and salvage the situation as best he could.
“We’re going to have to figure out where we go from here, Daff. There’s the wedding to consider.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, hiking the pajama top dangerously high.
“We could just go back to the way things were before all of this madness.”
“No. We should be friends.” He couldn’t believe he was sitting here saying this, while his cock was still at half-mast and he was willing that top to go just a couple of inches higher so that he could enjoy the sight of her nudity one last time. Friendship with this woman was literally the last thing he wanted, but if it was all he could have, then he would take it.
She looked hesitant.
“You can’t just demand friendship.”
“Why not? We get along. Have shit in common. We can be friends.”
“I can’t think straight. Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m knackered and have to get home.”
“Stay here.” She stared at him like he’d gone off his head, which was fair, since it wasn’t the most practical suggestion in light of the situation.
