Page 37 of The C*ck Down the Block

Someone nearby made retching sounds. But I didn’t see who, because I couldn’t look away from Chris’s lips on my fingers.

I also couldn’t ignore the tingles low in my belly. Every instinct I had said that this wasn’t for show, that he was flirting with me and being seductive for real.

But my instincts hadn’t served me well in past relationships, and it was hard to trust them.

Marie coughed and said “cowgirl” and coughed again.

Maybe I didn’t trust my own instincts, but my mother and Marie and every other woman at this barbecue seemed to think Chris had real feelings for me. So maybe I could trust their instincts instead of mine.

No one, especially a man I knew hated lying, play acted that well. Chris Kingman wanted to do naughty things to me with his tongue. I had no doubt of that whatsoever. And I wanted him to.

But there was one more complication.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t doubt that a man wanted me for me, and not because I was the daughter of a porn star. The fact that every man I’d ever considered being intimate with before had turned out to be a disgusting sleaze had ruined any chance I’d ever had at having sex. After the last guy, who I had to break up with because he literally called me by my mother’s name when he’d seen my breasts really messed with my head, I’d given up trying.

That had been college. Four years ago. Before I moved back to Thornminster and back to my old house, in my old neighborhood, to start a new career. Before Chris Kingman had come back into my life.

I may have been raised to understand that virgin and whore were social constructs that were outdated and had little bearing on my self-worth. But not everyone had a former porn star turned sex positive educator for a mother.

Would it even matter to Chris that I didn’t have any experience? I had a feeling I was going to find out later. Even my worries that I might lose him as a friend if we took this step weren’t enough to stop me from

I wasn’t going to be chicken, and that meant, hopefully by tomorrow morning, Luke Skycocker would be the last virgin standing.

AND THEN SHE KISSED ME

CHRIS

It’s funny how a few days changed my whole damn life. A week ago, I was still pining after the girl next door, and now I was leaning against that same door, staring down into the eyes of the girl I had loved for far too long to have never told her.

She looked up at me, only the streetlight, the little bulb on her porch, and the moon providing the lighting that had her looking so gorgeous. I felt like a fucking teenager again, wanting so badly to kiss her and waiting for her to say it was okay.

“This feels a little like deja vu. Weren’t we doing this same thing last night?” Her voice came out as a wistful sound, barely more than a whisper.

Tonight’s warm air felt different, the evening around us was charged, the sexual tension between us palpable. It was as if the universe had turned up the volume on the song of us, each note reverberating in the space between Trixie and me.

Her phone buzzed in her bag, but she ignored it, even dropped it to the wooden slats below. We were both lost in each other’s eyes, neither wanted to break our gaze.

“Yeah, we were. But we were interrupted before I could do this.” I put my hands flat on the door, either side of her head, and lowered my lips to hers. A millimeter from kissing her, I felt her tiny gasp. I whispered against her mouth, “Tell me you want this, Trixie. Say you want me to kiss you.”

My head and heart and stomach and cock were about to riot, demanding I take what belonged to me. But without her enthusiastic consent, her need for me too, I didn’t want it.

I’d lusted after this woman for so long, but even more than her body, I wanted her heart. I needed her to want me back.

“I want you to kiss me.” Her breath warmed my lips, her words, my heart.

“Even if it’s a hundred percent real? No more faking?” No more pretending. This was either real, or it wasn’t going to happen. “Tell me you want that too.”

“I... don’t know. What if it’s not fake, and—” Her breaths were shallow and mine matched, waiting for her to tell me to back off. Just like she had ten years ago.

That should have been my cue to back off. But I couldn’t. Not this time. Either my play was completed, or I lost the game, right here, right now.

A beat of silence stretched between us, both of us teetering on the edge of something big, something life altering. Her eyes flicked down to my lips, just for a moment, but it was enough to send every nerve in my body into a frenzy.

Screw it. I’d been holding back for far too long, burying my feelings under the guise of friendship and fake dates. But there was nothing fake about how my heart raced when she smiled, or how my thoughts kept drifting to her when I should have been preparing for training camp. I had mere weeks with her before I had to leave.

I searched for the right words but found none that seemed worthy of the moment. So, I went with the truth. “Trix, I want you. Not as a friend. I have for a long time. And these ‘fake’ dates we’ve been having? They’ve been incredibly real to me.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came out.

---