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“Wouldn't you have needed to wear those for your cotillions?”
I roll my eyes at him and Bella snorts, seemingly on my side. “I was given one when the guy I was dating in high school broke up with me. He walked up to me in school with it in his hands, gave it to me, and said that we should just be friends.”
“What the hell?”
“Exactly,” I agree. “The gift would have been sweet for just about any other reason, but it was the most bizarre thing.”
Tommy makes a tsk-ing sound before saying, “Those city boys have no manners, apparently.”
“That one for sure.”
“Alright then, what’s something none of your exes realized about you?”
“That I’m really good at faking it.”
Oh. My. Goodness. I just said that out loud. My whole body tenses in mortification as I try to think of something, anything, to add to that sentence to make it sound like I was not talking about a lack of orgasms.
I realize that Bella has stopped moving on top of my mind whirring. Looking down, I see that I’ve clearly pulled back on the reins in my panic and my legs are pressing into her sides. At least she responded to my panic by stopping and not leaping over the corral?
I suppose if she had jumped, if I could have managed to stay in the saddle, I would be riding somewhere that I could hide.
But no. Tommy’s low whistle cuts through the thoughts pinging back and forth in my head.
This is a whole new level of mortification.
Chapter 34: Tommy
If the shade of red her face is turning is any indication, Sam’s mind is spiraling trying to find a way to take back what she just said. But we’re both adults and if those fools don’t know what it feels like when someone comes, then they’re even more pathetic than I thought.
“How many times did you not have to fake it?” I ask, my voice even so she keeps talking.
“Oh my goodness, I can’t answer that.” She looks like she has a terrible sunburn now, the furious blush spreading down her neck and chest. “How do I get her going again?”
“Gently flick the reins or click your tongue.”
She does both, of course, needing to do things the best way possible.
“So,” I say, letting a little silence fill the space for a moment. “You haven’t answered and we’re both adults.”
“How many times have you faked it?” she asks, groaning, and I hold back a chuckle before she murmurs, “That was a ridiculous question.”
“I don’t know any guy who has been able to fake the uh, end result. But if you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”
Sam looks up at the sky with a sigh. “I don’t know.”
I drop it, curious as hell though. Not because I want to hear just how much her exes failed to know how to find a damn clit, but wanting to understand who she was in a relationship, just what she put up with so I can learn what to look for. I don’t ever want her to hide, not from me.
“Probably twice.” She barely mumbles the words, but I hear them and choke on my own spit for a second.
I’m about to ask her how these guys could have been so dense but I stop the second I see her expression. It’s more than embarrassment about the topic.
“Samantha Davies,” I say, waiting for her to look at me. “Are you thinking it was anything other than their fault for not paying attention to your needs?”
She makes a sour face.
“Did any of your exes ask what you like?” My fist clenches behind my back so she can’t see my growing frustration at how these guys made her feel. I fight to keep my face neutral for her.
“Why would they need to do that?” Her question is sincere and that tears at something deep inside of me.
