Page 58 of Never Have I Ever
When she finally comes down from her orgasm, and her breathing slows down, she jumps up onto her knees and wraps her arms around my neck. “Oh my god,” she gasps. “You’re so good at that!”
Fuck, if that doesn’t make my dick press even harder into my jeans. “Yeah?”
Instead of replying, she kisses me, sticking her tongue in my mouth and kissing me hard and fast. When she pulls back, she’s grinning from ear to ear. “Can we do it again?” she asks.
I laugh. She has no idea how much I want to do that again. And again and again, until she’s a panting mess, unable to speak, begging me to stop. “Anytime,” I say.
19
What are friends for?
Rosalie
I take the pin out of my mouth and attach it to the fabric, making it snug to Leila’s body. She’s used to this, so I have no issues with asking her to stand still or move when I need her to. She seems to sense it, which makes my job a hell of a lot easier.
Leila hasn’t been the only person to be my human mannequin when I needed to visualize a design on a body. I’ve hired models before, especially when I was designing clothes back home, but it was a hassle trying to figure out the way they worked, the way their bodies moved and formed to the clothes. Having Leila here makes it so much easier to figure it out on one person first.
While I'd prefer for my concentration to be focused on the dress right now, especially since I'm afraid I might accidentally poke Leila, my head is somewhere else completely
“I know, mom. I’m sorry, again.”
After I ditched her plane ticket to go to New York, she hasn’t called me back or even texted. I thought she’d be mad, furious even, and that she’d fly here and drag me to New York with her. She threatened to do exactly that. I didn't expect her to not react at all. That is, until now
I’ve been on the phone for nearly half an hour, trying to placate her for my not attending the charity gala. I didn’t even want to go. I hate those events. They’re nothing but tax write-offs.
She’s been ignoring me for weeks. She didn’t call or text or even answer my calls. She’s been giving me the silent treatment. Either that, or she just forgot about me, which wouldn’t be the first time.
I seem to be forgettable and invisible in this family. Nothing I do is ever good enough for my parents. Well, my mother. My father could care less. I wonder if he was like this with my brother, Travis, or if he was actually a caring, loving father to him. If so, I’m jealous I never got that.
I’m smart and educated. I get good grades, and I’m polite. I’ve never been in trouble, but it still isn’t good enough for them. I tried so hard to make them appreciate me. I followed orders and did exactly as they wanted me to do. I never rebelled or tried to disobey them, but nothing worked. I think I’m at a point where I need to stop trying to get their validation, no matter how much I want it.
“Do you know how humiliating that was?” she asks.
I sigh, sitting back on my heels. “The cab was late, mom. I lost my flight, I couldn’t go.”
The lie rolls off my tongue with no effort at all. It was getting easier to lie. I am an expert at it now. I’m lying to everyone I know. My friends, my family, everyone.
Grayson is this huge secret in my life, and I’m not sure what exactly I’m hiding. He taught me about sex, how to feel good, how to experience things I’ve always wanted. Like my first kiss and my first orgasm. And my first hook-up, which were all perfect. But that doesn’t mean I want to air out my dirty laundry for everyone to know.
No one needs to know about Grayson or what we’re doing. I love how he makes me feel. Being around him is like being in my own bubble away from the real world. I can escape for a few hours with him and then return to my normal life like it never even happened.
“You could have bought another flight, Rosalie. You have enough money in your trust fund for that,” she spits. “Or have you already spent it all on tattoos and drugs?”
Above me, Leila snorts and then covers her mouth. Yeah, Leila knew none of that even sounded remotely like me.
I clamp my mouth shut. She always finds a way to throw that money back in my face. It didn’t matter that they left it for me to access when I turned eighteen or that it was rightfully mine. In her head, I owed her for it. I owed her for finally becoming my own person and living my life.
I don’t think my mother wanted a daughter. What she wanted was another version of her that she could control and mold into who she was. She never earned a dime in her life. I don’t think she even knows what working entails.
“No,” I sigh. “I just didn’t think. I’ll be there next time.”
“Good,” she replies. “Then you’ll be here next Friday for the cocktail party.”
“Mom, I can’t Friday, I have class.”
“Really? Because Lizzie told me that you skipped class last Friday.”
I still, looking up at Leila, and she arches her brow in humor. Yeah, I didn’t tell her about that either. “Who’s Lizzie?”
