Page 53 of Sleepover

Chapter 25

Elle

It’s been several nights since Sawyer and I played Catan and then retreated to my bedroom. Every time I replay the events of that evening, I find myself smiling. And then frowning, because I don’t quite know what to make of the whole thing. I mean, I know what to make of the oral sex—it was terrific, in both directions. But the other parts, the parts that were cozy and friendly and almost family-ish, the text he sent me the day after about Madden being a good kid…

Those parts scare the shit out of me. I think I might need to back away from that kind of stuff, the hanging out and playing games and almost—almost co-parenting. Because I could get to like it, and I don’t think that matches Sawyer’s expectations. Plus, there’s the promise I made myself: no more falling for guys who are in love with someone else.

Luckily, over the next few days, things swing back toward the pure-sex side. Sawyer and I text each other a bunch of times. At first it’s in the vein of, um, reminiscences. As in:

Him: I get hard again every time I think about what you did to me last night.

Me: Me, too. I mean, not hard. Wet. You know what I mean.

And it plunges into the gutters from there.

Him: Jonah’s asleep.

Me: Madden, too.

Him: Call me and I’ll talk you off.

Me: Is that a thing?

Him: Phone sex?

Me: I’ve just never heard the phrase “talk you off.”

And my phone rings.

“Let me demonstrate,” he says. “What do you do? When you’re by yourself?”

“I, uh—pretty much what you did the other night, minus the fingering. I just can’t coordinate all that action.”

“You mean I offer value-add?” he suggests smirkily.

I smile. “I guess you do, kind of.”

“Well, let me add some value. You do the circles and I’ll do the dirty talk about my dick and your pussy.”

I groan.

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a yes.”

Once he’s accomplished his task, I offer to reciprocate.

“Are you, like, a fist guy? Or—I know guys who fuck the mattress.”

“You have such a filthy mouth, Elle, and I love it so hard.”

Hearing the word love come out of his mouth throws me for a momentary loop, but I get ahold of myself. “Thanks.”

“More of a fist guy. And I love myself some lube. The more the merrier. Soap, saliva, the bottled stuff, whatever.”

“Okay. Do that. Whichever. Your favorite.”

I actually hear the click of the lube cap through the phone.

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