Page 249 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Can I be honest with you guys?

It’s awful.

But thanks to my focus on interior design, you probably already guessed that.

“Does that feel good, Harlow?” he groaned against my skin, and I bit my tongue to avoid saying something along the lines of Please, stop. I think you’re actually making my vagina sad.

“Mmm-hmmm.” I did my best to feign enjoyment. A little sigh. A well-timed gasp.

“God, you taste so good.”

Oh, fuck. Ouch. What’s he got a spear on the end of that thing?

Ugh. I couldn’t do this much longer. I’d always been a lover of the oral, but holy moly, my vagina could only take so much of whatever he was doing with his tongue. I feared she might end up with some kind of emotional trauma if I let this go on any longer. Do they have therapy sessions and antidepressants for pussies?

Maybe if we just skip the foreplay and go to the sex, it’ll get better?

Some women might have given up, but sex was the reason I’d sat through that dinner and engaged in the most boring small talk ever to exist in the history of humans. Goddammit, I was getting some glimmer of enjoyment out of this if I had to take his penis hostage and do all the fucking myself.

“Fuck me, Barron,” I whispered, redirecting the sad sex train and forcing it somewhere more illicit. He looked up at me with a gleam in his eyes.

Yes. Keep going, Harlow. This just might work…

“Please, fuck me, Barron,” I said again, and instantly, he took action.

The man was on a mission as he quickly removed his pants and briefs, revealing a nicely shaped and sized penis. Thank God. And after the world’s quickest condom placement, he moved between my thighs and started to slide inside of me.

Okay. This is better…

One thrust. Two thrusts. Three more thrusts and I was actually starting to enjoy the feel. Hell, I was even starting to think the entire mundane night had been worth it. The mouth didn’t match the penis, that was for damn sure. His conversational and oral skills were subpar compared to what he could do during sex.

“Turn over,” he urged between panting breaths. “Let me see your perfect ass, baby.”

Ugh. Baby. God, I fucking hated when guys called me baby. Still, it’s okay. This is at least going in the right direction. Don’t lose focus, Harlow.

Barron didn’t give me a chance to make the move myself, instead, he gripped my hips and flipped me onto my belly. Only, he wasn’t superior in the skillset, fumbling the maneuver with a bobble, a shove, and collapsing onto me with the force of his weight. His chest hit my back, and my body catapulted forward, my forehead smacking into the headboard of his giant king-sized bed with a loud and piercing thud. Instantly, my vision blurred, and a jagged line of pain shot behind my eye.

“Oh, holy mother lover!” I cried and held a hand to my forehead. Hot embers focused at the point of impact, making it hard to breathe through the intensity. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph at Applebee’s! What the hell!”

“Oh my God,” he said behind me. Shock clung to his voice. “I’m so sorry, Harlow. Oh my God, are you okay?”

I pulled my hand away from my forehead to mutter some nonsense about him maiming me being okay—and realized I probably wasn’t okay. Bright red blood covered my fingers and palm, and now that I’d moved my hand, a little puddle of it was soaking into the fine silk of his pillowcase as we spoke. Whatever had happened to my forehead during the throes of Barron’s passion for my ass, it appeared it’d done some damage.

I turned toward him.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered when he caught sight of my injury. “That’s a really big gash, Harlow.”

Uh…ya think?

“Mind grabbing me a towel so I can, you know, not bleed all over your bed?” Any more than I already have anyway…

“Shit. Sorry,” he muttered and hopped off the bed, his now deflated penis flapping in the wind as he jogged toward the bathroom.

I sighed out loud. This was literally the worst fucking night ever. It honestly deserved one of those internet articles about terrible first-date experiences.

Not even a minute later, Barron had a towel pressed to my forehead, his worried gaze assessing my face. I guess it’s nice that he’s concerned.

“Thanks,” I said, and he grimaced.