I hold her gaze and let her words permeate my mind. Let them take hold of my doubts and squeeze them right out of my head.
She’s right. He’s bringing me to life.
“I need to let go of my fear once and for all, Kirb. It’s time, and you know what? I think I’m ready. Ready for Kane.”
I smile, big and toothy. She returns my smile, and with a nod, she sits up and refills our glasses.
I stumble up the stairs and squint my eyes in the darkness. Stupid dark. Stupid stairs. Stupid, weird house I don’t know.
Kirby left to head toward the other end of the house a few giggles and thumps ago, leaving me behind to fumble my way toward my temporary bedroom.
Why is this stupid, weird house so big?
It takes me three doorways to finally find the large bedroom where my stuff had been placed. If I hadn’t seen the size of Kirby’s room earlier, I would feel guilty for taking the master. But now I wish I just had a cot in one of the closets. Then maybe I would be able to find the stupid bed in this big house.
Why is this place so big?
Who needs this much space?
I kick my shoes off and pull my shirt over my head. My nipples tighten when their warmth feels this cool air around me. My pants become a problem when I can’t figure out how to get the button through the little hole. My struggles and wiggles make my phone—which I had tucked into my back pocket—drop loudly onto the hardwood floors.
“Stupid phone,” I mumble, bending over and picking it up.
Giving up on my pants, I drop down on the mattress and sigh when the softness of the down comforter acts like a warm hug.
I love warm hugs.
I would love to give Kane a big warm hug.
Right now.
I bet my nipples would love that.
My phone scares the crap out of me when it lights up and vibrates in my hand. I let out a gasp followed quickly by a little scream and toss it away from me on the other side of the bed.
My phone lets out a soft hum and my eyes narrow at the evil little device. The third time it goes off, I reach out and squirm against the mattress until I’m able to get my hands on it. Bringing it close to my face, I squint at the offensive brightness that rapes my eyes. It takes me a second, but I finally make out the words on the screen.
Kane: I can still feel your lips.
Kane: I wish you were here.
Kirby: Got ask. Dod yous chk his shoe siz?
The first two steal my breath, but it’s Kirby’s message that makes me bark out a loud laugh. I’m drunk, but clearly, she’s a lot drunker than I am.
Unlocking the phone, I bring up my messages and quickly type out a response to Kane before I chicken out. Kirby can wait. She’s probably asleep now anyway since it took me a million years just to get to my room in this stupid big house.
Willow: I can feel your lips too, and I wish I could feel them again. Now.
I smile, feeling proud of myself for flirting back with him. Riding my high, I respond to Kirby. At least she will be able to understand me. Even drunk, I can still work this stupid phone to message her back.
Willow: I didn’t look in his shoes, but I felt his big, huge dick when he kissed me good night. You were right. Shoe size means A LOT! ;) I wonder if his big, huge dick tastes as good as his lips?
My smile widens, and I lock my phone before crawling off the bed, almost falling to the floor, and attempting the button on my pants again. It only takes me four times to peel the denim from my legs and kick them off to some dark corner of my room. I should go find something to sleep in, but that would require way too much effort.
I pull my hair back from my face and secure it with the hair tie I had on my wrist. Pulling back the covers and climbing in, I let out a deep sigh when the bed’s warm hug once again envelops me.
I had just closed my eyes when I feel my phone vibrate somewhere around my feet. Crap. I forgot about that thing.
Lifting myself away from the warm hug, I fumble around like a blind woman before finally closing my hands around the phone. Why did I want this thing again? I shrug and reach down the side of the bed to connect the charger before lying back down.
“Hello, warm hug bed,” I mumble into the darkness.
I was almost asleep when I hear my phone hum again.
“Ugh.”
I roll over, fumble with the phone, and almost drop it. When I pick it up, I have to try a ridiculous number of times to unlock it before I finally get the sucker to work. Bringing up my text screen, I click on Kirby’s name.
But when I read her message, I feel nothing but confusion. What the heck is she going on about? Why would I want to kiss her?
Oh. My. God.
“No, no, no,” I slur and close out of her screen before looking at the only other bold message.
The one from Kane.
The one responding to what I sent him thinking I was responding to Kirby.
I drop my head without opening his message, but it doesn’t take long for curiosity to get the best of me. Worrying my lip between my teeth, I press my finger against his message and gasp when it opens.
Kane: Fuck, Willow. You can’t say shit like that to me and not have my ‘big, huge dick’ begging you to take a taste. Goddamn.
Holy crap! How am I supposed to respond to that? Do I tell him it was a mistake? That I’m well beyond drunk?
No.
He liked it. He wasn’t mad. Maybe a little shocked, but he liked it. I read back his response and throw caution to the wind. I respond quickly before I can let reason win over my drunken mind.
Willow: I bet you taste delicious. Can I taste you?
I add a little eggplant emoji and the big tongue one before clicking send. Good job, Willow! I bet he’ll like that. I smile, letting the rush mix with the alcohol and wait for him to respond. This is fun.
I see the little bubbles that indicate he’s typing and wait. The anticipation spiking my newfound courage even higher. I hold my thumbs hovering just above the keypad and get ready for his response so I can be ready to type back.
Kane: Fucking hell. You have no idea how hard I am right now. This is Willow, right?
Willow: Yup.
Kane: Goddamn.
Willow: You didn’t tell me I could taste you. I really want to taste you.
Kane: Willow …
Willow: Kane …
Kane: I can’t decide if it’s a good thing I can’t get to you or not.
I frown. What does that mean? I might not have a lot of recent practice at tasting a dick, but how hard could it be. It’s probably like riding a bike. I should probably let him know that. Then he won’t be wondering if I would be any good. He said he was hard, so he must have liked what I asked. Right?