Page 61 of The Problem with Perfect

“You’re soaked,” I groan, feeling my dick begin to harden at the thought. “God, you must be aching.”

She keeps her face tucked against me, but I feel her nod. I rub at her slowly, stroking between her lips before circling her clit then dipping back down to press a single finger into her. Bellamy’s breath huffs out through her nose, and I can feel her hips begin to move against my hand.

“You’re so sexy,” I whisper, adding a second finger and pumping in and out.

She shifts back, her eyes meeting mine for just a second before her tongue is licking at my lips and we’re kissing again. There is nothing like this moment with Bellamy, the feeling of her body pressed against mine, my fingers inside her, stroking along her inner walls. There is nothing like being able to give her the same pleasure she just gave me.

“Rusty,” she whispers again, her face returning to that crook in my neck as her hips move faster, and I know she’s getting close.

I pull my fingers out and she whimpers, this time with frustration, but it’s quickly replaced by a moan of pleasure as I adjust my position, crawling down and pressing my mouth between her legs. My fingers slip back in, and then my tongue is stroking against her, circling her clit and rubbing at that soft spot deep within her that has her tossing back her head in pleasure and crying out loudly. Her inner walls clamp down on me repeatedly, and Bellamy shakes as her orgasm rocks her body. I grin, enjoying the look of absolute bliss on her exhausted face.

But my smile falls when I hear the front door open, and I scramble to the edge of the couch, grabbing a blanket and covering us both with it just as Jackson walks into the room.

chapterseventeen

Bellamy

Heat sears my cheeks as Jackson freezes at the end of the entry hallway then turns around, giving us his back. I still cover my face with my hands, feeling absolutely mortified.

“Uh, sorry,” he says, chuckling awkwardly. “I just came by to grab some of my stuff.”

“I thought you guys were in San Francisco this weekend,” Rusty says, his voice easier than I would be able to manage. Then again, this probably isn’t an uncommon occurrence for Rusty considering how often he used to hook up with women before we started fake dating.

Another wave of humiliation sweeps through me at the thought. I know I’m not just another notch on his bedpost, but it’s hard not to wonder how many other women have had an orgasm on this couch. Here I was, lost in my feels, wondering if maybe I’d gotten this thing with Rusty all wrong, and this right here is a reminder of why that would be a foolish direction to allow my mind to go.

For Rusty, sex is casual. I can’t let myself forget that. Whatever little…weird thoughts I had during our sexcapade today need to go firmly in the ‘do not revisit’ pile along with my brief interest in yoga and that horrible red dress my mother bought me when I was in high school.

“We were supposed to, but Ruthie’s daughter is home sick, so Abby needed to go in to work to open the store.” He clears his throat. “We rescheduled for next weekend.”

“Alright, well…if you could head to another room of the house and give us a few minutes, that would be great,” Rusty says, again sounding nothing but calm and collected.

“No prob. I’ll just…” Jackson points to the stairs and heads up, taking them two at a time before disappearing entirely.

Rusty turns onto his side and gives me a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that, but we were fully covered, so…no harm, no foul, right?”

He must see in my face that I’m upset, because his smile falls.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“No, it isnotokay.” I push him away and climb off the couch incredibly ungracefully, searching frantically for the clothing I chucked away without a care. “Being walked in on when I’m naked isnotokay.”

I find my bikini bottoms and shorts and yank them up in one quick movement then grab my shirt off the edge of the couch, tugging it over my head without even trying to find my bikini top.

“I’ve only had sex with one guy—Connor—and I’ve done almost nothing else, so this was…and to have Jackson walk in, to know he’s probably going to tell other people…” I shake my head, feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment. My throat tightens and I can feel tears pricking my eyes.

“Bellamy.” Rusty has hopped up and is pulling his shorts on faster than I realize, and then he’s in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place and trying to meet my eyes.

I can’t look at him, so I just keep my eyes on my feet.

“Jackson’s not going to share like it’s high school or something, okay? And I can talk to him as well. I swear, he won’t say anything.” His arms rub up and down my biceps, similarly to how he did in the water to keep me warm. “Besides, we’re both adults, right? If we want to fool around in the living room, that’s up to us.”

Even as he says the last bit, I can see he looks a little less comfortable than he did a few minutes ago, a bit more overwhelmed by the thought of it now that it’s been spoken out loud.

“I’m gonna go, okay? I just need to go home.”

Rusty immediately lets go of my arms.

“Yeah, okay. If that’s what you want.” He scratches the back of his neck. “But I want to make sure you’re alright. I don’t want to send you off feeling…” He trails off. “I don’t know what you’re feeling.”

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