Page 33 of Don't Make Me Beg
Scout looks almost unrecognizable sitting with her legs curled in her seat. She either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t mind that her dress has ridden up. My eyes keep catching on the soft flesh of her upper thigh, which does nothing to calm the multitude of indecent thoughts flooding through my mind right now.
Maybe it’s the alcohol or those stupid wedding vows, but I can’t help but feel like something activated the caveman part of my brain tonight. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and I can’t shut it off, no matter how hard I try.
I keep finding myself sneaking glances, my mind wandering to places it has no business entertaining… And yet, here I sit, against my better judgment, pouring myself another glass.
Scout still hasn’t spoken much, apart from asking for a refill as soon as her glass was empty. And each time, I happily oblige.
This would be the moment that a better person would cut her off, before she gets too sloppy and says or does something she’ll regret.
Too bad for Scout, I’m not the good guy I used to be.
Besides, if I’m not getting laid on my wedding night, then I may as well enjoy watching Scout come completely unraveled. A man’s got to entertain himself somehow.
I watch as she tosses her drink back and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she finally breaks the silence. “You know, this wasn’t how my wedding night was supposed to go.”
Here we go. Looks like the show is about the begin.
I cross a foot over my knee and settle deeper in my seat. “Oh, really? I’m sorry to disappoint you.” I gesture for her to continue. “Exactly what were you expecting?”
She either misses the mockery in my tone or chooses to ignore it completely. Judging by the way her head’s hanging over the side of the chair…I think it’s safe to say her inhibitions are no longer with us.
”Well, obviously, I thought I would be having sex on my wedding night,” she blurts out with a sigh as she spins in the chair so that her legs are propped against the back and her head dangles off the front.
I cover my mouth to hide my smile, not wanting her to get embarrassed and realize how she looks right now. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right about that. You could be getting ravished by ol’ Jimbo right now, having the best five minutes of missionary sex of your life?—"
She blows a raspberry with her lips before falling into a fit of laughter. She’s laughing so hard, I’m afraid she’s going to crack her head on the coffee table, so I hold my hand as a shield until she calms down.
She wipes a tear from her eye as her giggles fizzle out. “You’re funny.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, feeling torn between wanting to ask her exactly what part she found so amusing. I realize I’m treading in dangerous territory here.
“I’m glad you find me amusing.” I swirl my drink, settling back into my seat. “So…your wedding night…was that something you thought about a lot?”
The flush of her cheeks should be answer enough, but I sit there in silence as I wait for her to answer.
“I mean…yeah…sort of, I guess.” She covers her face with her hands, looking so fucking cute as she blushes. “I guess I’ve always thought once I was married, I’d finally feel more of a desire to…you know?—"
Somehow that explanation leaves me with more questions than answers. I narrow my eyes. “I’m not sure I’m following…”
I drag a hand down my face and breathe a heavy sigh. I don’t know why I keep torturing myself by prying further. But there’s something so fucking hot about making her admit it out loud. About how difficult I know this is for her, and yet, she’s still answering simply because I asked the question.
“Ugh, this is so embarrassing!” She grunts, her hands still covering her face as she peeks at me between her fingers.
She accidentally flashes me a peek of her panties when she flips back upright in the chair. I wish I could say that I looked away, but the disappointment I feel when she tugs her dress back down has me holding my breath, waiting for her next movement in hope of another glimpse.
“You know, like the desire people feel in the romance novels.” She continues, “Maybe it sounds dumb, but I’ve never believed it was real. I mean, I’ve certainly never felt that way before.”
I hear warning bells, blaring through my ears, begging me to stop this conversation before it goes any further. But I’m too invested now. I find myself leaning closer, my cock growing painfully hard behind the zipper of my pants as I hang on to her every word.
“And I guess, I just thought that being married and finally not having the guilt behind having sex, would actually make me want to…”
“I’m sorry, but what the actual fuck?” I blurt before she says anything else to make this pathetic confession of hers any worse. “What kind of mental gymnastics did you have to do to come up with that theory?”
She stares back at me blinking, like she can’t figure out where my sudden mood shift came from.
Heat shoots through me as the arousal I was just feeling moments ago morphs into irritation.
Needing to distract myself, I spring to my feet and begin to pace. I decide I’ve had enough mind-altering substances for one evening, so I make a quick trip to the kitchen, returning with a couple of bottles of water.
