Page 4 of Serpent Darling
He was too soft in bed, all light strokes and kisses. He would whisper words of adoration, and his touches were always gentle. Whenever she tried to encourage him to go faster, he went slower.
Sadie wanted to throttle him.
So tonight, she had finally decided she'd been silent on the matter for too long. Especially after the jealousy little MissBianca had brought out earlier. What kind of fucking name was Bianca, anyway? She needed some sort of a release and was getting desperate.
Propping herself up on her elbows, she leaned over his chest as he tried to catch his breath and asked, "Can we talk?"
Travis smiled at her and responded, "Of course, babe. How was it?" He slid his hands up to her waist and pulled her closer to him.
Sadie put on her best smile, totally aware she was faking everything at this point and not just her orgasms. "Great."
She rested her chin in her hand, her right elbow digging into the mattress, and ran her left hand down his chest. "I was just thinking, what would you say to try some stuff out? Like maybe something a little rougher." She paused when she saw the look on his face. "I mean, maybe some new positions or, like, maybe you could try spanking me?"
"Oh my god, Sadie. Why would you want me to hurt you?" Travis asked in shock, his hands flying to her shoulders. "Are you feeling alright?"
Sadie bit the inside of one cheek to keep from screaming at him and took a deep breath.
"I'm not asking you to punch me in the face, Trav. I'm trying to see what else we might be good at together. We should be open to trying other things," she tried to explain carefully, aware of his hands gripping her shoulders and searching her face with his eyes.
"I don't know, Sadie." Travis sighed. "I think we have amazing chemistry in bed. We change positions a lot. It's not always me on top; sometimes we switch, and you get to be on top."
Sadie grimaced but covered it with a cough.
Silence was the best option at this point.
He didn't get it, and he wouldn't get it.
Travis pulled her back a little to look into her eyes, and when she met them with her gaze, he asked quietly, "Is this about Jagger?"
Sadie sat up so quickly she almost fell out of his bed. "What? Why would you even say that?"
She pulled his blue comforter up to her naked chest as his hands fell back against the sheets. Travis pushed himself up on his forearms and gave her a sideways glance.
“Are you serious? He's the ultimate bad boy," he laughed as Sadie scrunched her nose up in confusion. "He's in a gang, runs a bar, is smart, rides a motorcycle, smokes, and can drink most men under the table. He's literally a modern-day James Dean.”
When Sadie tried to laugh it off and roll her eyes, Travis pushed onward. “And I saw how you were looking at him and that new girl when we left."
Sadie averted her eyes briefly as she thought about what he said. Back in college, she had considered him a potential lover, but their friendship was too important to act on it. Plus, he never really gave her a reason to think he was all that interested in her. Her brain, of course. But her body?
"That's ridiculous. Jag's my friend; I could never think about him like that. I just don’t like that girl and think he can do better."
Sadie moved onto her side and tucked her arm under her pillow, bringing it into a higher position.
"It’s just… I heard some girls talking at the bar tonight about some stuff and thought it was interesting."
Sadie kissed his cheek, and he smiled before remarking and patting her head, "We're fine just the way we are."
Travis hugged her close, and Sadie waited until his deep breathing assured her he was asleep before throwing her clothes back on and sneaking out into the living room. She couldn't rest right now with her thoughts a mile a minute. Sadie would havekilled for a beer, but this was Travis’ apartment. So, there was wine.
Copious amounts of wine.
But nothing else.
Nothing stronger, nothing more satisfying.
Sadie let out a huff and swiped some stray hair out of her face that had escaped her ponytail. It all just seemed to be one giant metaphor for her perfect, wholesome relationship.
Eventually, she grabbed water from the fridge, went over to his gray couch and sprawled out on her stomach. Her work clothes from that evening still smelled of smoke and whiskey. Her favorite scents.
