Page 19 of Chasing Wild Heart

My need to be around her isn’t solely based on our chemistry between the sheets.

A few questions about her love for art led to us sketching portraits of each other earlier this week. We spent ten minutes grinning idiotically at each other while our pencils furiously scribbled over paper. Satisfaction buried deep within when she burst out laughing at my drawing of her: the classic stick figure girl with a triangle representing a skirt and then two circles as her boobs.

I explained she had the confidence to pull off the “free the nipple” look if she wanted to walk around in a skirt topless. This led her to look down her shirt to confirm her tits were worthy of showing off in public. Of course, I volunteered to check to offer not only a second opinion but the all-important male perspective. The faux examination led to a torrid affair with Dr. Black, the rogue surgeon who played by his own set of rules.

I should’ve known her adventurous streak included role playing and a drawer full of sex toys. Surprisingly, being terrible actors doesn’t make the sex awkward or terrible – if anything, it makes it hotter.

After torturing and teasing her incredibly sensitive breasts, which ended in an epic tit fucking, I peeked at Juni’s portrait of me. I believed her admission that she wasn't great at drawing people, considering she sketched a clown nose on me. When I asked if she had issues sketching other appendages, she nodded with a sly grin, glancing at the bulge in my shorts.

Two seconds after freeing my cock, Juni fell to knees in front of me for a “visual inspection” and “hands-on research”. Of course, as the popular art professor known for his unorthodox methods of teaching, I helped the painfully shy and virginal student (Juni giggled every time I used the word “pure”) express herself without wielding an art tool. The aspiring artist not only passed the course, but earned an invitation to study in Paris for a year. I definitely questioned Juni’s ending of the professor’s pledge to wait faithfully for her while he remained behind.

I feel my lips pull into a smile and my cock stiffen at the thought of her creative genius and her love for role-playing romance tropes. I adjust myself just as my phone lights up with my mom’s name on the screen. Both forms of amusement quickly disappear.

“Hey, Mom,” I answer, glancing at the time on the dashboard, and breathe easier knowing the conversation will be ten minutes or less.

“Were you going to tell me you had a girlfriend, Dashwood? Why did I have to learn about this from your sisters? Mari mentioned the name Juni. Is that ...”

Dammit, Mari.I bump my forehead against the steering wheel as my mom continues to rattle off a series of questions without waiting for an answer.

When my older sister texted me earlier in the evening, I replied with the usual one- to two-word answer. Her call five seconds after my message caught me by surprise.

"Hey, Mari, what's going on?" That's all I said before she blurted out, "You're getting laid!" Knowing each other way too well, I didn't even bother to deny it. She claimed her "sister intuition" sensed my text sounded "lighter" and my verbal greeting more "relaxed". Even though I call bullshit on all that, I have no other logical explanation.

I knew Mari would spill all the details to the other two siblings, but I figured Mom would be kept in the dark for a few more weeks. Her well-meaning optimism and romantic notions did none of us a favor during the awkward"what exactly are we doing?"stage. Once the boyfriend and girlfriend labels were in place, we're comfortable enough to talk about relationships and seek advice from our mom.

Is Mari banging anyone?I ponder briefly about throwing her under the Mom bus.

"Dashwood Seth Black!"

I stifle a groan at the use of my full name in the all-authoritative mom voice. "Yeah?"

"When do I get to meet her?" she asks eagerly, probably already planning a road trip if it meant meeting a future daughter-in-law.

I rub the heel of my palm against my forehead as if a reasonable answer will spring up. Because I don't know how to reply without saying "we're just fucking around."

"I don't know," I admit as an urge to strangle all three sisters grows stronger with each word.

"Why wouldn't I get to meet her, Dash?"

"Because she's not my girlfriend."

"But you've known her since August, right? Mari said she's a runner on your team." My mom suddenly gasps, and I imagine she's slapping a hand over her heart in disbelief. "Are you not supposed to date someone you're coaching? Is that why you can't call her your girlfriend? Is your romance forbidden?"

I smack a hand over my forehead and groan softly.

"Mom," I interrupt her barrage of annoying questions. "Yes, coaches can date a player. It's not ideal, but there's no official rule."

"Good," she breathes a sigh of relief. "I think she might be the one for you, Dash. Not only are you both runners, but you're both from Nebraska and are state champions. You have a lot in common."

Which is a solid foundation for any relationship,I think sarcastically.

"We're in no rush to jump into anything," I mutter, considering I'm too chickenshit to admit I actually care about Juni.

"Well, I suppose you have time since she's only 21, right? So, she's the same age as Cordy. If Juni is anything like your sister, she'll be impressed with the little things like remembering shedoesn't like tomatoes on a sandwich but tomatoes are okay on a salad."

I know the light pounding ache in my head will only intensify because my mom's "helpful" advice leaves me spinning and breathless. I don't know if Juni likes tomatoes on a sandwich, but should I? Besides running, art, and sex, what else does she like?

"You've been holding the door open for her, right?" My mom's excited voice distracts me momentarily from spiraling. "Have you been paying for the check when you guys go out? I know some women like to pay, and you should let her if she's really insistent. But a gentleman always picks up the check. I'll send you some money so you don't go completely broke- oh, that gives me an idea! Why don't take a cooking class and impress her with a good meal? Women love a man who can cook. Oh, sweetheart! I have a better idea. Maybe you two should take a cooking class together. That would be fun, right?"

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