Page 130 of How to Win the Girl

I let my hand stray the way I had when she and I were on the phone earlier, but this time, I stroke. Inch my hand below the waistband of my boxer briefs so I can give my cock the proper grip.

Fuck that feels good.

It’s not pussy, but it’ll do in a pinch.

I close my eyes again, picturing Daisy’s beautiful face in my mind. The freckles I imagine on her shoulders, across the smooth skin on her breasts.

It’s her hand gripping me. Her hand moving up and down, jerking me fast but gently. Fast then slow. Up and down.

Fuck yeah.

Fuck yeah, that feels good…

Her mouth.

That smile.

“You know what, you sassy little shit? I can’t wait to get my hands on you again. And my mouth.”

Hot and bothered.

That’s one way of putting it.

I wasn’t lying when I told Daisy I jerked off a lot. I’m made of flesh and bone, and when I’m not getting laid, I like to burn off some of that extra adrenaline coursing through my body with an orgasm. This feels different because I would rather not be jerking off at all. I would rather be going down. I’m dizzy instead of making myself feel good, I want her to feel good.

When she praised me for being a giver—something I’m not, not really. I’m generally a selfish bastard who only thinks of himself as sex and pleasure.

But when she told me I was?

I wanted it to be true.

My hand continues to stroke my dick, desperation and need and lust filling it with blood. He’s not a massive cock, but he’s respectable, demanding when he wants attention.

thirty-five

daisy

…Still wearing that smile he gave me

I can’t sleep.

Obviously.

As soon as I hung up the phone with Drake, I’ve been staring up at the ceiling, in the dark, listening to my roommates moving around the house but in no mood to join them. Gabby is in the living room with the television on full blast, while Stella is chatting on the phone. She’s probably video chatting with the guy she’s on-again, off-again dating.

Dating.

If you can call it that…

I pull the covers up to my chin, hoping I’ll get drowsy if I’m snuggled in—because as of right now? I’m wide awake with no sleep in sight.

I count sheep.

Turn on a thundering rainstorm track on my phone.

Squeeze my eyes closed.

It’s Drake I see there, of course it is, that cocky smile winking back at me. His arrogant grin as he talks about masturbating and vibrators and the confused look on his face when I mentioned my blue vibrator.