Page 59 of Special Delivery

“I thought it’d be best for our first time. Since I didn’t know how seriously you two would take this.”

Fair. I slump back onto the couch, opening my folder. It hosts a sheet of paper that looks like it came straight from Pinterest. Parker places a cup with colorful markers, probably Chrissy’s, on the coffee table.

“Now, let’s start by rating the book. How many stars would you give it?”

With Parker leading it, the book discussion turns out more fun than I’ve expected. We share our general thoughts on the book, followed by our favorite scenes. Next are our suggested areas for improvement.

Just when a thought about how civil this is passes through my head, Parker clears his throat. “Now let’s cover the sex scenes.” Wes groans, but Parker simply continues, “First, is there anything you need clarification on? Any unfamiliar terms?”

“You realize none of us are virgins, right?” I ask.

“Your confidence astounds me, Ryan, considering you didn’t know what a tentacle dildo was mere weeks ago,” Parker quips back, making Wes cackle.

“Well, there were no tentacle dildos in the book.”

“Maybe this time.” He lifts his hand in the air. “But you should really think about how you’re treating your teacher. Your report card isn’t looking too well.”

“Report card?” Wes asks, triggered by any mention of evaluation.

“He’s not our actual teacher, Wes,” I tell him.

“Fine,” Parker stops me, raising his hand. “Since Ryan knows everything, let’s do this exercise pretending everything that happened between the main characters in the book happened between Ryan and Paige.”

Despite my disagreement, he does just that. We analyze every single sex scene in this very smutty book, using mine and Paige’s names instead of the characters’. By the end, my V-neck is too tight around my throat, my pants grow tight, and I’m internally cursing myself for getting hard by hearing Parker speak. Rationally, it churns my stomach. But on a deeper, more primal level, my body can’t help but actually imagine us doing all those things. All those kinky, sexy things.

In each scene, I imagine her reaction. Would she be into it? I imagine her responsiveness, her nipples puckering, her cheeks growing rosy. I imagine the sounds she’d make. And fuck, now I’m fully hard.

My mind is back in the Bahamas, sharing a bed with Paige when I realize Parker finished speaking.

“Thank you, man. This was great,” Wes tells him.

It doesn’t surprise me. Wes is a man who would enjoy a book club, no matter the theme. What surprises me is how much I enjoyed it. Regardless of Parker’s teasing and both of their interrogations in the beginning, I had fun. The book was great, and the company was even better. There was also no pulsing behind my temples, which made for a pretty good night.

If I were keeping track of things that haven’t caused a headache in the last week, the list would host two things: sex with Paige, and Parker’s book club. Or maybe thinking about Paige during Parker’s book club. Is it a coincidence, or is she truly the cure to my headaches?

“So, you’ll do it?” Parker asks me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Do what?”

“Get yourself a few more happy endings?”

“Maybe.”

A hint of excitement builds in my stomach at the prospect of having more time with her, though I’m not sure she’ll be interested.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Paige

My fingers loosen around the purple rabbit vibrator, and it drops to the bed with a quiet thud. One hand covering my eyes, I try to get my breath under control. The orgasm was fine. It was great, in fact, but much like all the others, it was nothing compared to what I experienced with Ryan.

The Bahamas have turned me into a sex-obsessed heathen. I’ve run through all the sex toys I was previously afraid of, attempting to replicate the feeling of my night with Ryan. Well, all except the tentacle one. Safe to say, I was unsuccessful.

The waves crashing through me are there, but there’s no curling of my toes, no vision going blank, no out-of-body experiences. Just plain old orgasms. I let out a sigh, my chest finally back to normal.

Is it possible to get hooked after only a week? I know what they told us about hard drugs—not even once, but I thought that was more a figure of speech than an actual possibility. Yet after a week of being in Ryan’s presence, my body is now wired to crave him twenty-four seven.

My phone pings with a text, so I sit up to find it. The curtains are safely closed, hiding my newfound debauchery from any curious old-lady neighbors, so it takes me a second to feel my way to the phone. I locate it under a crumpled sheet, unlocking it with a press of a finger.