The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles

by Meghan Quinn

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Abs and Schalongs

  HENRY

  I lay awake on the bed, Rosie snoring next to me. Thanks to the incessant crying of Sir Licks-a-Lot, I hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep for a few days. Well, that wasn’t completely true. The new member of our apartment wasn’t helping, but my mind was also restless because of the meeting I had today with the board and the introduction of the new hire.

  Due to his constant scratching on the bedroom door, we’d been forced to grant him access into our room at night. This was terrifying for a couple of reasons. One, I wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t planning our deaths. Suffocation might have been on his list of things to do in the near future. And two, he liked to stare . . . a lot. I felt like he was wearing a secret webcam in his collar and selling our bedroom activities to someone overseas for Internet porn. I wouldn’t be surprised if I ran into my white ass one day online.

  When I’d showered, he was right there, peering past the shower curtain, circling the claw-foot tub, right on the edge, dancing dangerously with falling in. He insisted upon hacking a hairball onto my shoes every day, which looked like a piece of hair poop. Dude had to stop licking himself, because the hairballs were starting to really grate on my nerves, and it’d only been a few days. I tried talking to him, man to man, about the incessant licking, but he hadn’t taken any notes. When I finished my lecture, he leaned forward and licked his butthole—such a dick move. The little bastard hadn’t even bothered to hide his defiance.

  I stared at the ceiling and wondered what today might bring. Who was this new hire? Was she actually going to be good at her job, or was she there to fill a quota?

  It felt like a knife was twisting through my intestines, breaking everything up, and not in a good way. Anxiety plagued me as I tried to think of the many good attributes I had to offer to this company. I thought about the more promising future if I got this job. Rosie and I could start a life together, a family; we could have everything. Being friends for years, we'd both spoken about our long-term dreams. Many times. What Rosie had never realized was, I'd been taking notes. I knew the type of house she wanted. I knew the size of family she wanted. I even knew what she wanted to call her first child if it was a girl. And I wanted all of that for her. I wanted all that for us.

  Agitated, I ran my hands over my face, trying to wash away the nerves that continued to take over my body. To my side, Rosie started to wake up. Her arm stretched out over the bed and across my chest, where it landed on my bare skin. I looked at her to find a sleepy smile caressing her lips.

  That little smile was all I needed. I rolled over and pinned her against the bed.

  “Morning.”

  Rosie sighed and sunk deeper into the mattress.

  “Mmm, do you know what that reminded me of?”

  “What?” I asked, kissing her cheek down to her neck. She wiggled under me with every touch of my lips.

  “A book I recently read by S.C. Stephens, called Thoughtless. There is a character named Kellan Kyle who is an absolute dreamboat. He’s so yummy. And every morning when Kiera comes downstairs, he always holds a coffee cup up to her and says, ‘Mornin.’ I think you just made my Kellan Kyle dreams come true.”

  Still kissing her neck and slowly working my way to her breasts, I said, “I don’t think I like you having dreams about other men.”

  She gasped with the nip I made on her upper breast. They’re only fictional dreams, book boyfriends if you will. For a long time, they were all I had.”

  My mouth hovered over her nipple as I looked up at her. “Book boyfriends?” My eyebrow quirked from my question.

  Her chest lifted, trying to bring my mouth to her nipple, but I didn’t budge until she answered my question. I didn’t care about her book boyfriends; I just enjoyed watching her squirm.

  “Henry, stop teasing me.”

  “Then tell me about this book boyfriend. Is he more handsome than me? Dreamier? Girthier?”

  A small snort popped out of her that she covered up quickly with her hand. She tilted her head slightly to the side and smiled at me. “Honestly, no. You are perfect book boyfriend material. If you were in a book, all my book friends would want to steal you from me. You’re sexy, funny, handsome, you have dreamy eyes, and your penis is perfect.”

  “Perfect? How does it compare to your book boyfriend’s?” I licked her nipple as I asked the question. A sexy whimper escaped her, and her breathing picked up.

  She thought about my question for a second and said, “Honestly, all book boyfriends have big penises. It’s a given. Abs and schalongs. I wouldn’t compare yourself to them.”

  “Is that right?” I bit down on her nipple, causing her to yelp. “Well then, I guess I’ll take my non-book boyfriend dick to the shower and get ready for the day.”

  I started to move away when she grabbed my shoulders, a look of desperation in her eyes. “No, don’t leave. I was kidding. I can’t talk about your penis enough and all the good things about it. I love how it . . . uh . . .”

  “How it what?” Rosie was still working on her ability to talk about sex and everything sex, so when I got the chance, I pushed her pass her limits.

  Her face turned an embarrassed shade as she bit down on her bottom lip, trying to figure out what to say. She was so fucking adorable it actually pained me sometimes.

  “I love how your penis . . .” She paused, her face turning a deeper shade of pink as she cleared her throat. “I love how it fits inside of me.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked, moving my tongue around her nipple, making leisurely circles, watching as her breath started to catch in her throat with each lap. “How does it fit?”

  She gulped and started to move her hips against mine. “It fits . . . tight.”

  I sucked in her nipple, rewarding her for a good answer . . . a true answer. “How tight?”

  “Really tight.” She was breathless. And God, how I loved making her breathless. So fucking sexy. “So tight that sometimes I don’t think you’ll actually fit inside.”

  “Want to find out?” I asked, moving one hand to the breast I wasn’t paying any attention to. I plucked her nipple, rolling it between my fingers while my tongue danced with the other.

  “Yes,” she moaned.

  “Yes, that feels good, or yes, you want me to fuck you?”

  Ducking her head, she nodded.

  “Say it, Rosie.”

  I pinched her nipple. “Fuck me.”

  Like a lightning bolt to my dick, I was ready to be inside her. Hearing dirty words from my sweet and innocent girl was a huge turn-on. I loved how she wanted to experiment in the bedroom and how it took encouragement from me to help her break out of her shell. I especially loved it when she swore, since she rarely did outside the bedroom.

  I moved my mouth to her ear, where I pulled her lobe with my teeth. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

  Goosebumps spread across her skin from my words. Lowering my hand to her legs, I spread them apart and glided my fingers across her pubic bone, teasing her even more.

  Rosie wasn’t very patient when I was in charge. She didn’t like to be teased, and she hated taking it slow more than anything. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand and noted I had a few minutes before I needed to be in the shower, so I moved my fingers just above her pussy and pressed down on the outer edges, barely moving my fingers up and down, just close enough to her hole that she could feel the slightest pressure.

  A low moan rolled through her, her hips moved with my fingers, encouraging me to go lower, and her hands gripped the back of my neck, bringing my lips to hers.

  She was soft, yet tough with her movements. Her tongue was demanding, but also timid once I opened my mouth for her. She knew what she wanted, but when she got it, she shied away for a second, still wondering if I was hers for the taking. What she still didn’t get was that I’d be hers until the day I took my last breath.

  With her tongue searching mine, I slipped my f
ingers inside her an inch and then pulled them out. She groaned in frustration, releasing my mouth from hers. Her hands went under the pillow where she grabbed it and moved her hips again, trying to force my fingers inside her, but I held my ground as she twisted from annoyance.

  Since her arms propped her head up from behind, her breasts pushed toward the sky, giving me amazing access to do what I wanted to do with them.

  Rosie’s body was indescribable: deliciously curvy in all the right spots, a damn near perfect version of Jessica Rabbit. Her breasts were the right weight for my hands, perky, yet plump. I couldn’t explain it. I’d always appreciated breasts before, but with Rosie, I wanted to lay down a red carpet for each one and be at their beck and call. All she had to do was not wear a bra and I was sunk. Yup, I was that guy when it came to Rosie—no self-control. And she’d yet to understand how easily she could use that to her advantage . . .

  That’s why I couldn’t get enough of her nipples, her pink little nipples that hardened when I looked at her. I gripped her left breast, brought it to a point, then lowered my head and sucked her in . . . whole. My tongue lapped at the hardened peg, teasing and testing its sensitive nerves. I was rewarded with cries of pleasure escaping from those stunning lips I’d been blessed to call mine.

  Never one to pick favorites, I moved my mouth over to her right breast and performed the same routine; this time, her cries grew louder, because with each nip of my teeth, I pressed my fingers deeper inside her until I couldn’t go any farther. Fuck, I wanted inside her bad.

  Like the naughty little girl she was, she started rocking her hips on my fingers. I let her ride them until she brought herself to the brink of climax—and then I couldn’t take it anymore.

  Unable to wait any longer, I grabbed a condom from the nightstand, slipped it on, and guided myself inside. I hovered above her, happy with her no-nonsense attitude this morning, letting me take charge, doing what I did best . . . worshiping her.

  We studied each other’s eyes as my hips moved in a perfect rhythm that matched our beating hearts. How could I not love this woman with everything in me when she looked at me as if I were her knight in shining armor? As if I were her prince charming? The one man who could fulfill her every fantasy? Dare I say it . . . her book boyfriend?

  With each thrust, we both grew closer to climax. Our bodies rang out through the room, our moans echoed off the old plaster walls, and our scents mingled together, adding an erotic flair to our lovemaking.

  Everything about this woman I cherished, and I would be damned if I ever gave her up.

  “Yes,” she called out shyly, grabbing hold of my ass and pulling me in harder with each thrust.

  Fuck, just like that, my balls tightened, my toes curled, and an explosion burst from my chest, straight down my body. Rosie called out my name, and I pushed in and out of her a few more times, riding our orgasms until our bodies were completely sated.

  Out of breath, I rested my forehead on her shoulder and her hand went instinctively to my hair, where she played with the short strands on the back of my neck.

  “I love you,” I whispered. “So damn much.”

  “I love you too.” She sighed and said, “Is it still weird for you to think we’re a couple?”

  She asked that question often; I wasn’t sure why because to me, being with Rosie was the most natural and honest relationship I’d ever experienced.

  I lifted my head from her shoulder and pressed it against her forehead. My lips quickly pecked hers and I said, “Rosie, I’ve never felt more comfortable or in love with another human being than I do with you. Our relationship isn’t weird to me; it’s natural, logical, and essential to my well-being.” Hopefully that answer finally satisfied her.

  “How did I get so lucky?” she asked, shifting to the side to look at the clock. I was about to answer her when she screamed right in my ear.

  Bringing my hand to my broken eardrum to prevent any further damage, I asked, “What the hell?”

  Without saying a word, she pointed to my side of the bed. I turned to find Sir Licks-a-Lot, leg extended in the air, toes spread, and his tongue very slowly and methodically licking his little kitty balls. Fuck. No. The little shit.

  I turned back to Rosie, so beyond disturbed with the sight to the side of us. “Was he there the whole time?”

  “I don’t want to know the answer to that question.”

  We both looked at him again, watching him continue to swat himself with his mini sandpaper tongue.

  I shivered and said, “Why is he purring? Does he ever purr?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.” Rosie paused for a second before saying, “Why does he always stare at you? I think he might have a crush on you. Maybe you give off some kind of kitty pheromone.”

  “I have been known to attract the pussies.”

  With a dramatic roll of her eyes, Rosie pushed me to the side and tiptoed around Sir Licks-a-Lot before running to the bathroom, where I heard the shower turn on. I pulled the condom off my dick and held it out for the trash can, feeling concerned when Sir Licks-a-lot eyed the latex the entire time. I stopped in my pursuit of the trash can, and said, “I swear to God, if I find this chewed up and buried in the couch, I will rip your spikey dick right off your kitty frame. You hear me, you sick fuck?”

  Like the ass he was, he licked his paw and rubbed the top of his head, with one single middle claw up. Whoever taught that cat to flip people off was some kind of evil genius.

  “C-3PBro! You ready for the day?” Freddy asked, walking up to me and holding out his fist for a bump.

  I ignored his attempt for another “bro-out” and sipped my coffee. “Don’t do that.”

  Sticking his hand in his pocket like a “cool guy,” he asked, “Do what?”

  “Use Star Wars names in your sick bro-lingo. Star Wars is too good for that.”

  “Have you seen the new movie? Seriously, bro, that shit was off the chain. I got a half-chub in the theater over Leia. Even in her old age I would still tap that General of the Resistance. I would give her something to braid her hair over. Pound her so hard she’d wish she’d never even hooked up with that Solo idiot and instead had waited for me.”

  I held my hand up to stop the moron from talking. “I’m going to stop you right there. There were so many things wrong with that picture, but the reason I’m seconds away from crushing your nuts with the dishwasher door is because of your complete lack of respect for Han Solo. I don’t care who you are, you pay your respects.”

  Freddy stood silent for a second before throwing his head back and laughing. “Oh, fuck, man, look as us, two bros fighting over a woman.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. No, we’re not. Are you high?” Freddy laughed some more. “I’m serious, are you high? Nowhere in my last sentence did I say anything about a woman.”

  Freddy leaned forward and whispered behind his hand. “Come on, Harrison Ford with that long hair. Can you say lady?”

  He had to be kidding. “You’re so fucked up. It was called the seventies; men had long hair back then. Shit, men have long hair now, but it’s actually even longer and piled on top of their heads in messy buns or braids. Can’t call a dude a lady because of long hair.”

  That shut Freddy up enough for me to walk past him, out of the kitchen, and back to my cube. How he managed to corner me almost every morning was beyond me. He must have some kind of warning signal that tipped him off whenever I arrived at or left my cube.

  Knowing I had a meeting with the board at nine, I woke up my computer to get a jump-start on some of my emails before the atmosphere in the office was flipped upside down. My inbox was loaded, and I started scanning my emails. Nothing too pressing, so I grabbed my phone to text Rosie when Freddy squatted in my cube, breathing rather heavily.

  “Bro-tato Chip, did you see the new girl? Holy shit, the legs on that pair of tits extend all the way to her nipples. And could her skirt get any smaller? I’m about to run up to her backside and poke my full-on rod up th
at skirt, really introduce myself via cock-mail.”

  “Shut the fuck up, man. You’re so goddamn offensive.” In case they were walking around, I bowed my head as I spoke, not wanting any of the board of directors to hear me. “Can you not be a total douche-canoe for at least five minutes?”

  “Not when those fuckable lips are walking around, and I’m not talking about the ones on her face. Boo-yah.” He held up his hand for a high five, but instead, I punched him in the stomach, causing him to bend over. He nodded his head as he held on to his stomach. “All right, respect. I can jump on board with deserving that one.”

  “Glad you realized that.”

  “Anderson, conference room,” Eric called out from across the cube farm.

  “Ooooo, you’re in trouble.”

  “Shut the fuck up, you moron,” I muttered, kicking him in the shin as I stood and buttoned my jacket. I could do this; she was just a female, apparently one with long legs. This job was made for me. I worked my ass off for this job. I fucking deserved this job.

  Once I finished my mental pep talk, I grabbed my leather-bound notepad and walked toward the conference room. From a distance, I saw the back of the girl. She had long brown, almost caramel-colored hair, her legs were long like Freddy said, and yes, she had a bit of a supermodel body, but honestly, she was nothing compared to Rosie, not even fucking close.

  As I grew closer, I observed the way she flirted with the male board members, touching their arms and leaning in close to talk to them. From behind, there was something familiar about her that I couldn’t place; maybe it was her overcompensating feminine wiles that reminded me of some of the women I used to date.

  Before I entered the conference room, Eric cut off my path and pulled me to the side. Whispering, he said, “Listen to me closely. Do not go in there and suck ass to the board. Be strong, be confident; act like this job is already yours, like you already have an office of glass rather than poorly upholstered cardboard walls. You got it?”