Page 26 of Perfect Boy

Just Watson: And for the love of God, don’t try to take advantage of me. I have more respect for myself than that.

I shake my head but breathe out a laugh. Looking down at myself, I’m a bit of a mess in my leggings and hooded sweatshirt. But then again, who cares? I’m not showing off for anyone. Maybe this will drive home the point that I’m not interested.

Well, in his mind and feelings. Interested in seeing his penis again? Now, that’s something I might be able to get on board with even if I told him I wasn’t. Because let’s be honest…I’m already craving him.

I was fine swearing off sex. That was, until Watson Gentry banged me into oblivion in a supply closet.

Watson

Ryann might have agreed to come grab some dinner tonight, but she’s not actually here. Physically, sure. But her mind is somewhere else. She sips her soda, her eyes looking lost even though she’s trying to hide whatever it is that’s bothering her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I say as casually as I can, clasping my hands together. “Because we can.”

Her eyes fly to mine, and I can tell she’s mad that I asked because of the way her eyebrows shoot up.

Quickly, I put my hands up. “Hey, hey, hey. We don’t have to. But I just wanted you to know that the offer is on the table. I’m a good listener. At least, my mom says I am.” I wink.

She’s something like a wild animal that you find injured. It might need your help, but it still doesn’t trust you. One wrong move, and you’ll scare it away. I need to be smart. I need to be subtle.

Well, sort of.

“No,” she scoffs. “I don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing to even talk about.”

“Do you want to sneak into the restroom? Maybe that’ll help you feel better,” I toss out there because, well, she might just take me up on it. After all, she seems to like my dick better than me.

I watch the wheels turn in her pretty head. She’s considering it, and for a split second, I get my hopes up. And so does my dick as the blood rushes to it. But I’m quickly let down when she takes a sip from her drink and shakes her head.

“No. That was one lapse in judgment. That’s all.”

I push my back up against the booth, smirking like an idiot. “Hmm, well, if I remember right, you had two lapses in judgment. Because, well…not only did you soak my fingers, but you soaked my cock too.” I shrug. “Just to clarify. You know, facts and all.”

Her eyes narrow in a harsh glare, and she scrunches her button nose up a little higher. “Yeah, well, what can I say? I was desperate. It had been four months.” She tilts her chin up in defiance. “The touch of a feather would have probably had me coming.”

Holy fuck. Did she just say coming? That’s hot.

And now, suddenly, I want a giant feather to drag down her neck, between her tits, and straight to her pussy. And the fucking image of it won’t. Go. Away.

She’s so set on hating me, and for some reason, I find it hot. Really hot. Because deep down, I know she’s still thinking about that supply closet. Just like I am.

But then another thought hits me. She hadn’t had sex in four months. That means, whatever she had with Denton, well, it wasn’t a fresh break.

“Four months? Is that how long it’s been since you and Denton split?” I ask. Because, well, curiosity is what killed the cat. But that cat probably died, knowing the answer to his question at the very least.

“Nope,” she says, her lips forming a flat line. “We split up six months ago. But then I decided to drown my sorrows in one-night stands and alcohol.” She leans forward, giving me an unapologetic look. “Still interested in me now, nice, good boy Watson? Now that you know I have a…friendly side?”

“Who said I’m interested?”

She laughs, but it’s more of an annoyed tone. “You didn’t have to.”

“What can I say? A man wants what he wants.” I wink. “Also, I don’t care if you had a friendly side or not. I mean, it makes me jealous, sure. But YOLO, right? Also, I thought you’d found out the other night that I’m really not all that nice,” I say, dropping my voice lower. “But I guess I should remind you just how not nice I can be.” I stare at her. “If that’s what you’re into.”

“You lightly choked me and called me a slut,” she deadpans. “You’re nice, trust me. Heck, your mom probably does your laundry still. She probably uses fabric softener.”

“Everyone should use fabric softener.” I scoff. “And I’ll take you in the restroom right now and choke you over the sink, to the point where you’ll be begging for air. All while your pussy quivers around me because you secretly fucking. Love. It.” I shrug. “Try me, Tiny Dancer. If you want rough? Let’s get fucking rough. I’ve got a whole drawer full of things that can be as painful as they are fun.”

Her face is full of shock, which doesn’t surprise me one bit. Everything in my life is and has always been structured. But sex? Fuck no. When it comes to that, I want anything but vanilla. Even though I’d still take vanilla sex with Ryann fucking Denver any day of the week.

“Holy shit, Sutton was right,” she barely whispers.

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