“You can take my bed. I’ll grab a blanket and sleep on top of his bed.”
“Could you”—she hesitates with a wince—“lie with me for a bit?”
“Okay.” My voice is low and huskier than usual. I walk over to her and peel back the covers. She slides between the sheets, shifting to her side to allow me some room on the twin mattress. She frowns and shakes her head, sitting up.
“Can you lie on your back, and I’ll just curl up along your side? That way, you’ll be more comfortable, right?”
I shift to my back. As soon as she curls up with her head on my chest, an arm draped over my chest and a leg over one of my thighs, I let out a slow exhale and close my eyes. Damn, it’s been a hell of a night.
“This is nice,” she whispers.
My mouth curves up slightly, and I whisper back, “It is.”
Silence fills the room and just when I think she’s drifted off, she whispers again. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Mmhmm.” Shit, I’m tired.
“What’s an orgasm feel like?”
My eyes flash open, and everything stills. I’m afraid to speak, let alone move. Thank God she doesn’t look up at me. Even with the bit of light from outside shining in through the blinds, I’m not sure I could handle her staring me in the eyes, waiting on my answer.
I clench and unclench my jaw, wondering how the hell to handle this. Finally, I just think, The hell with it.
“Shortcake, you mean to tell me those guys never gave you a damn orgasm?” Fucking asshats.
And goddamn Preston. I grind my molars wishing I could hit him again. What kind of guy would date her for so long without giving her an orgasm?
She shakes her head against me. “No.”
Something in the way she says that one word sends prickles of unease through me. “Wait. You mean, never with a partner, right?”
Her voice sounds tiny, and I can practically feel the embarrassment radiating off her. “I know I sound stupid, but I’ve just never felt comfortable tryin’ to…you know. With myself.”
I stare at the dark ceiling. Lord help me. This is a conversation I never thought I’d have with her.
Ever.
“I mean, I’ve googled it.” Her index finger starts tracing a random pattern on my chest, and my abs contract instinctively. The reaction down below is jarring because my dick begins to harden.
Not okay. Especially when part of her arm rests just a few inches above it. Not to mention, just because she’s asking me a question about masturbating doesn’t mean she wants to sleep with me.
Even if my buddy down there is delusional enough to think so.
“The diagrams are so confusin’.”
Diagrams? What the hell is she talkin’ about?
“I mean, you’d think that with all the info on the internet that guys would be able to zero in on the clit. But noooo.” She drags out the last word, then releases a long, disappointed sigh. “Then again, it’s not like I’ve been able to work my magic on it, either.”
A choked sound escapes me. “Uh, Shortcake? I’m not sure this is a conversation you should be havin’ with me.”
She shifts to prop her chin on my chest, and a shaft of dim light illuminates part of her face. “You’re the only person I can have this conversation with.”
I part my lips to protest, but she interrupts with, “Hollis, just listen for a minute.” A split second of a pause hangs between us before she tacks on, “Please.”
When I stay silent, waiting her out, she continues. “You were my first kiss. You’re my best friend and…” She trails off before starting again, her voice hushed. “I just know that I can tell you anythin’, and you won’t laugh at me or make me feel stupid.”
I drag a hand over my face slowly with a silent groan. Shit. Of all the things she could bring up.
“Are you good at, um, you know…findin’ a girl’s clit?”
My hand stops at my jaw, and I run it along the slight scruff, trying to buy time.
“I swear, Hollis, I won’t breathe a word to a soul.” Her hushed pleading tone has me wavering. “I just don’t want to be clueless forever.”
Dammit. As idiotic as it sounds, I know if our roles were reversed, she’d suck it up and talk to me about it. Which is why, even though my tone is resigned, I grit out an answer.
“Yes.”
She practically vibrates with curiosity. Even her voice perks up. “Yes, you know how to find it?”
I toss an arm over my eyes and grunt an, “Mmhmm.”
If I could drown in awkwardness, this would be the moment.
“So, you’ve made a girl, um…orgasm that way?”
“Magnolia…” My tone is exasperated as hell. And for good reason.
“I’m just askin’ because—”
“Yes.”
There’s a millisecond of a pause before she softens her tone to a hesitant, “And you’re sure of this?”
I fling my arm off my eyes and speak through clenched teeth. “Yes.”
“How can you be so su—”
“Because she came all over my goddamn tongue!”
Fuck. I didn’t mean to say it so loud. Or be that crude.
I rush to apologize. “I’m sorry, Shortca—”
“Did you like it?” Her voice has a hint of breathlessness to it.
I pinch my eyes closed and murmur quietly, “Yeah. I liked it a whole hell of a lot.”
My damn dick is getting harder to the point where pretty soon, she’ll notice. But it’s not because I’m thinking about the times I went down on Charlotte. It’s that my mind has replaced her with Magnolia, and now I’m thinking about her riding my face. Thinking about the little sounds she might make. How she might taste.
How I’d damn sure find her clit and make her come. How she wouldn’t wonder about much of anything after I finished.
Fuck.
Her voice sounds small when she finally says, “He never wanted to do that.” Then in a derisive tone, she adds, “Always said it wasn’t his thing.”
If I could go back and punch Preston harder, I’d do it just for that alone. What a selfish little shit.
I lower my eyes to her partially illuminated face and run a finger down her cheek. “He’s a clueless asshole.”
Magnolia falls silent for so long, I think she’s done with the conversation. I relax, my muscles losing the rigid tension, and close my eyes.
“Could you show me?”
My eyes snap open, and I stare at her, my lips parting in shock. “What?”
She shrugs. “It would be the same as the kiss you gave me. You just show me how it’s done right so I know from here on out.”
I huff out a laugh filled with exasperation and disbelief. “Not quite how it works, Shortcake.”
“What about dry humpin’? I’ve never done that before.”
“You are not. Askin’ me. To dry hump you,” I grit out.
“I am.” She nods.
I don’t respond because I’m not sure I can. Or what the hell to say.
“I just”—she drops her voice, her tone gentler—“need to know if I’m the problem.”