Page 67 of The Problem with Perfect

“Tell me,” I say. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to lick me.”

“Where?”

She pauses before she speaks, and I know she’s building up the courage.

“Lick my pussy.”

I grin. “Gladly.”

Kissing down her body, I get to her panties, tugging them to the side and licking through her lower lips in one firm stroke. She moans, and I continue, fluttering my tongue against her clit as I slip one finger inside of her, then another, flicking them deep. Her back arches off the bed, but I don’t let up until I feel her clamp down on me, until I feel her splintering apart at my touch.

I only stop once she has collapsed on the bed, her breathing heavy, looking like her world has been thoroughly rocked. Once I’ve kissed my way back up her body, I kiss her mouth, loving how she moans into mine.

“I love watching you fly apart like that,” I tell her.

She gives me a mischievous grin and pushes me back then begins to slowly remove my boxers. When her warm mouth surrounds my dick, my head falls back, the pleasure almost too much for me to keep watching. It doesn’t take long for me to tip over the edge as well, and then Bellamy is crawling back up and snuggling against my side.

“See?” I tell her. “It’s fun to just play with each other.”

She nods. “I get it.”

We lie like that for a long while until I eventually hear a soft snore that tells me Bellamy has fallen asleep. I know I should wake her, should send her home or to Abby’s room, orIshould go to Abby’s room or the couch downstairs.

But I can’t make myself do it.

Instead, I tuck her in more snugly and cover us with a blanket, enjoying the closeness of having her here against me, allowing my mind to consider what it might be like if things were different and this could be real.

As much as I’m telling Bellamy we aren’t having sex because she needs to learn to play, we’re also not having sex because I’m not sure I can handle it. After all the women I’ve been with, after every hollow one-night stand and quicky fling I’ve had, I finally found someone I want sex to mean something with, and all she wants is something meaningless.

How ironic is that?

chapternineteen

Bellamy

Stace invites me out for coffee again on Sunday morning, and this time, I enthusiastically say yes. We had fun last time, and I really enjoyed talking to her when we went out on the boat last weekend.

When I get there, though, it’s StaceandConnor I spot standing in line. I flick off a quick text to Rusty, letting him know and asking if he might be nearby. Then I tuck my phone away and join them.

“Hey, sorry,” she says, giving me a hug and looking a little irritated even through the smile on her face. “I mentioned getting coffee and he really wanted to come.”

I wave a hand, telling her it’s not a big deal. Would I rather not be around Connor at all? Sure, but it’s becoming less and less important for me to avoid him now that I’m caring less and less about his opinion on…well, anything. I might have called my fake boyfriend to join us, but it’s less about making sure Connor knows I’m into someone else and more about just having an additional buffer.

“No worries,” I say, smiling at them both. “Let’s order. My brain is still a little fatigued.”

“Late night?” Stace asks, giving me a look filled with meaning before bumping me with her elbow.

I smirk. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Stace laughs. “Well I must not be much of a lady then, huh?”

We both start giggling and step into line, Connor looking indifferent about being here even though it seems to have been his idea.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, though. We order and take a seat outside once we’ve gotten our drinks, and Stace and I have a great time chatting. She asks all about how studying for my final exam is going and what the job prospects look like. Then I redirect back to her.

“So you have one year left, right?” I ask, referencing what we talked about last time we had coffee.

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