Page 28 of Bad News Babe

“If you still want to fool around tomorrow, we can get a hotel room.”

Frowning, I drop his shirt and lean away. “What kind of trollop do you think I am?”

“You were willing to mess around right here in front of drunk locals.”

“Yes, but that’s good American fun. Hotels are for shameful encounters between married men and their trollops.”

“I’m not sure what a trollop is. However, I live at my parents’ house. They wouldn’t be cool with all the noise you and I will make.”

“How did you enjoy all those other women?”

“Their place, back seat of a car, up against the side of a building.”

“I feel like you need to stop talking. Or at least change the subject. Your words are like a blizzard against my overheated pussy.”

“Good Lord,” he moans and rests his forehead against mine. “You’re so hot when you say pussy.”

“Wait, are we fucking now or not? My buzzed brain can’t keep track of this conversation.”

“That’s another reason we need to wait. I want somewhere nice and comfortable. You should also be completely sober. I want your first time to be mind-blowing.”

“You’re that good, huh?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“I’ll make you come so hard and often that you’ll worship me forever.”

“I might be willing to do that even without the many breathtaking orgasms.”

“Of course, but I want to earn your devotion.”

Sliding off his motorcycle, I ask, “Do these things you need to do tomorrow include getting your dick checked for diseases? I’m not trying to shame you or anything. However, the number of women in that bar who’ve ridden your manhood was more than I can count. I mean that literally. I regularly failed math class.”

“I’m super careful,” he insists as I climb on behind him and slide my hands back inside his shirt. “My mother showed me so many horrifying photos of diseased private parts when I was ten. I’ve used condoms even with virgins. Can’t be too safe.”

“Well, when you’re picking up condoms tomorrow, get me some gel or cream or lady condoms or something. I’m completely unprotected. Birth control pills make me itch.”

“Itch?” he asks, glancing at me over his shoulder.

“I started pills when I was twelve. Gary got worried he would become a grandfather when he was still celebrating the end of his fathering duties. Anyway, I took them for a few days and kept itching. Once I quit the pills, he explained I couldn’t have sex until he was dead. He really doesn’t want to be a grandfather.”

“And you obeyed him?”

“God, no. Fork Falls is just filled to the brim with booger-eating morons. No way was I dropping my panties for them. But if they made men like you there, I’d have been a teenage mom so damn fast.”

West smirks. “I’ll make a very solid father. I basically raised my sister Tuesday after our pa decided she was too precious to discipline. I’ve been tackling her for years.”

Imagining his sister’s antics tonight, I smile. “You did a great job.”

“I won’t use condoms with you.”

“Why?”

“Those girls weren’t my future wife. You are.”

“We’ve known each other for two days,” I say and wrap him tighter in my arms. “We’ve clearly shared enough time together for you to make a clearheaded decision about our future.”

West hesitates, unsure if I’m serious. He wants to turn around and hash things out. His feelings are very important. I’m sure he was pampered as a child. How could his parents help themselves? He was likely super cute and charming.

“I’m feeling fuzzy-headed. Can we get to my place before I fall off and you’re forced to carry me home?”

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