Page 66 of Wicked Sin

Taylor the Slut strikes again. Nothing like alienating someone who was just trying to help me.

There’s nothing wrong with liking sex. With wanting sex, needing sex, having sex.I know this. I’ve worked on internalizing this truth for three years. And yet the first time I actually have sex, I fucked it up by being too much. Too needy, too dirty, too fast.

Too easy.

God, I would have fucked him right there, on his couch, without a condom. I would have let him come inside me like a fucking idiot, just to have the feel of his hands and mouth and body hard up against mine.

Even now, the thought of his cock, big and hard and rubbing right up against my clit, makes me wet. I wish I’d gotten my mouth on it. I wish he’d pushed me to my knees and made me gag on it.

Hot tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

Of course, it wasn’t going to go well. I come with a bag of issues and feelings and prickly needs I haven’t properly explained because instead of finding a normal, healthy sex partner, I had to try to and seduce a fucking cop tasked with protecting me.

Daddy issues will get you every fucking time.

I need to be a grown-up about this, go downstairs, and address this in a reasonable, mature fashion. The first time our chemistry got the better of us, he had to push me to talk about it. Not this time. I grab my cup and head straight downstairs, bedhead and all.

I find him standing at the back door, looking out the window and talking on the phone. I slow to a stop in the hallway, realizing I’m eavesdropping.

I don’t turn around, though.

If he doesn’t want me to hear a conversation, he shouldn’t have it in a tiny, quiet house.

“I was just calling to say I can’t make it tomorrow night. No, not a work thing, just busy.” He chuckles. “That’s very persuasive. Next week, maybe. Yeah, hopefully, the busy thing will be gone by then.”

Oh, will I?

My stomach twists as I listen to his words. But I don’t turn around, and I don’t run away.

Mature. Grown-up.

Maybe the reason he put the brakes on was because he feels loyalty to someone else. It would make him marginally better than the other men I’ve fucked, although he probably shouldn’t have kissed me or let me fuck his hand if he wanted to maintain any kind of moral high ground.

And whatever his deal is, he should be honest and upfront with me.

Since he’s not doing that, I don’t need to bare my soul to him.

When he hangs up the call, I clear my throat and move into the living room.

He doesn’t react to my reaction. “You’re up,” he says blandly.

“I’m up.”

“About last night—”

I wave it off. “Don’t worry about it. You’re right. It’s too complicated. And before you know it, the crack team will have solved the small problem of someone stalking me, and we’ll be able to get on with our lives. Go our separate ways and never see each other again.”

He glares at me.

Someone doesn’t like flippancy too early in the morning.

Oh. Fucking. Well.

I give him a bright smile. “I need to go shopping.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

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