Page 76 of Hammered (Dad Bod Contracting 1)
She’s dropped so much on me at this point that I don’t even know where to start, but she still isn’t done.
“And yeah, maybe your guy Jesse is a player or a hookup artist or whatever, but from what you told me, it sounds like he was trying to figure out how to keep you in his bed, not get rid of you. You panicked, because you’re scared of falling in love. And you’re scared of being hurt even worse than Nicholas hurt you, because you can see yourself feeling things for Jesse you never did for Nicholas. So you ditched him. You bolted. He may have driven you home, but you didn’t give him a chance to say boo, much less process how he may have been feeling about you. Because it sounds to me like he has feelings for you, Imogen, and maybe he’s as confused and mixed up and scared as you are, but he’s a dude, and when dudes are faced with emotions they don’t understand or can’t handle, they shut down. But instead of seeing that, you reacted out of your own bullshit, shut him out, and ran.”
“Fuck,” I whisper.
“Yeah. And something tells me that Jesse could be the best thing that ever happened to you.”
“He already is,” I say.
“He brought you to his home. It’s a big deal for me, so I’m guessing it is for him.”
“So that guy, Price—”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Audra.”
“Fine. I really liked him. But he’s too young, too broke, and too emotionally needy. I’d end up momming him as much as I fucked him, and I’m not here for that. So he had to go. But he really was sweet and cute and great in bed, and if I was fifteen years younger and a lot less jaded and fucked up, I’d have let him stay…for who knows how long.”
“Audra—”
“We can talk about me another time, okay? Forget Price. My point is, taking someone home when that’s way outside how you do something—that’s a big deal. He wouldn’t do that lightly. He wouldn’t have done that if he was expecting to make a getaway after a quick fuck. You only bring someone into your own home if you’re willing to deal with the next day awkwardness.”
“How do you deal with next day awkwardness?” I ask, honestly curious.
“If I bring a guy home and I’m ready for him to go? Usually I suggest we go out to breakfast separately. Or I blow him and then make excuses about work.”
“Why blow him first?”
She shrugs, grinning. “Because a guy will do pretty much anything you want after you’ve sucked him off. It softens the blow of asking him to leave. Also, I just like giving head.”
I shake my head. “You do? Like, you actually enjoy it?”
She wrinkles her nose and grins at me. “Well, yeah.” She frowns at me. “I mean, do I enjoy it like I enjoy getting eaten out? No, but it’s a different kind of enjoyment. Just being honest about it, I like the power of it. I like the manipulation of it. I get off knowing just my hands and mouth can make a guy desperate and willing to do whatever I want. And, under the right circumstances, I like making a guy feel good. But that’s a different kind of BJ.”
“It is?” I’ve given them, of course, but only as foreplay, and usually in a quid-pro-quo sort of scenario, so I’ve never thought about giving oral in the way Audra’s talking about it.
She laughs. “I mean, of course. ” She sighs and waves a hand. “You’re distracting me from the topic. Get me talking about giving head and I lose my train of thought.”
I roll my eyes at her, laughing. “Audra, you’re too much.”
“So say all the men,” she quips, and I don’t think she’s joking. “My point is, I don’t think you gave Jesse a fair shot.”
“He sent me texts and left voicemails, but I’ve been avoiding them—and him.”
“You came straight here from the airport, I’m guessing?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
She shakes her head, sighing. “This time, I’m not gonna tell you what I think you should do. This one is all on you. What I will end my rant with is this—it doesn’t have to be love, as in True Love, capital T, capital L, with hearts and bubbles and glitter and a mushy happily-ever-after ending. It can be something real for both of you without being that. You can have your cake and eat it too, in this case, Imogen—there is something between casual no-strings sex and diamond rings and wedding vows.”
I sigh. “Maybe you’re right.”
“You know I’m right.” She holds out her hand flat, palm up. “Your phone.”
I hesitate, but then hand her my phone—she knows my passcode, of course, and uses it to open up my thread with Jesse. We read his messages together—there are seven.
