Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108049 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
“I can assure you I’m not. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
“You know hockey boy is going to get bored and dump you soon. He never dates anyone longer than a few weeks.”
“Why do you care?”
“We’re sisters, Tay-Tay,” she coos, cocking her head in that way that makes her look like a broken marionette. It’s fucking creepy. Or perhaps it’s all the blood rushing to one side of her brain to give her the ability to form words. “I wouldn’t want you to get your heart broken.”
“No worries.” I shove my hand out and force her to dodge it so I can push forward. “Our relationship is solely based on having lots of sex, so…”
I brush past her and do my business, then wash my hands and step back into the hall. Where Abigail is still standing. Doesn’t she have better things to do than obsess over my love life?
She tails me down the hall toward the foyer. As I’m opening the door to leave, none other than Abigail’s boyfriend Kevin struts inside. Lovely. He who smells like too much body spray and Cheetos.
Every time Kevin sees me there’s a brief blank stare and then his eyes drop to my chest and it’s like spotting someone you know in a crowded airport. His face alights with recognition. “Taylor, hey.”
“Taylor,” Sasha shouts at me from the staircase. “Get your ass up here.”
“Look at it this way,” I chirp, sliding past Abigail and her gross boyfriend’s leering stare, “when I’m done with hockey boy, you can shoot your shot.”
A thrill of excited energy pours through my blood. Standing up to Abigail, even just a little, feels good. Powerful, even. Taylor Marsh, able to leap tall bitches in a single bound.
“We should talk to Charlotte about having paramedics standing by,” Sasha says as we climb the stairs to her bedroom. “Abigail’s liable to drop dead of jealousy any minute.”
“I don’t know about jealousy.” In Sasha’s room, I plop down in her beanbag chair and toss my hair over one shoulder. “I think what drives her crazy is that her cruelty backfired into actually making me happy.”
Sasha sits on the other beanbag and fixes me with a serious look. “So this is legit then? You and Conor are a real thing now?”
“It’s something,” I say for lack of a better word. “I don’t know what.”
“But it’s real.”
I swallow hard. “I think so. I mean, we’ve kissed and whatever. Messed around a little in Buffalo.”
“You drove seven hours for a booty call,” Sasha says, laughing. “I hope it was more than a little.”
“Six and a half hours. And fine, it was a little more than a little.”
“Do you still have your V-Card?” she demands.
“I’m as yet unacquainted with his penis.”
That earns me snort. “All right. So. Where’s your head at? Is this like a fine-for-now thing, or is it headed in a linear direction?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I’m into it. Things are a solid A in the fooling around category. He’s sweet and respectful and makes me feel comfortable.”
“But,” Sasha says for me.
“But I’m still hesitant. He’s been nothing but wonderful to me, and yet I can’t shake the idea that if I have sex with him, I’m still a number on a very long list. It feels…” I trail off, unable to find the words.
“That’s the patriarchy talking. Who gives a shit how many women he’s slept with? Did he cheat on them? Did he promise them a ring to get them into bed and then sneak out in the middle of the night? Is he posting sex selfies on Insta and passing trophies around to his friends?”
“Not that I’m aware of, no.”
“So fuck it, then. Or him.” She wiggles her tongue impishly. “If you want to. When you feel like it. If the mood strikes.”
“Okay,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I get it.”
“Society tells boys to divide and conquer, and tells girls to save ourselves for some younger future version of our father. Just doing some quick math in my head and…yep, that comes out to a bunch of hypocritical bullshit. Your self-worth is not tied up in your vagina or how many girls came before you.”
“No pun intended.”
“Precisely.”
20
Conor
I haven’t fingered a girl this much since high school.
Taylor lies in my bed on her side, cheeks flushed and lips parted slightly. Her bra is tossed across my desk in the corner. Her shirt is pulled up to expose her perfect tits for me, jeans pushed down only enough for me to get my hand beneath her skimpy white panties. I haven’t even seen this girl fully naked yet, but she’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed. Blonde hair splayed over my pillow and warm little body wrapped around mine while she writhes against my hand. Her eyes clench tighter every time I swipe my thumb across her clit. I could do this all day.