He moans, “Mmmm, I hate cats.” His muffled answer makes me belt out a laugh.
“That does not even count. Come on, Carroll, you can do better than that. I totally hate cats too, though. They’re so smug.” My hands work his upper arms, pushing and pulling his muscles until they loosen. His breathing is peaceful and steady underneath me.
“I don’t know; it’s hard to think when you’re touching me like this. Why don’t you just ask me a question?” He turns his head and rests on his cheek, eyes closed with his long lashes brushing his cheekbone. Jesus, I would kill for lashes like that. Why do guys get the best lashes? “Dylan.”
“I’m thinking.” I have questions, so many questions. But am I brave enough to ask them? I bite my lip and decide to start slow. “Do you hook up with a lot of girls at weddings?” That isn’t too bad. It’s not like I asked him how many girls he’s slept with, which I am very curious about. His eyes open for a moment and then he closes them again.
“I’m not sure what classifies as a lot, but yes, I’ve hooked up with women at weddings before.” He moans as I press my thumbs deeply into his upper back. “I’m sure I wasn’t your first either.”
“Yes, you were,” I blurt out, seeing his eyes pop open again. He blinks rapidly before he flips under me, holding me still so I’m now straddling his stomach. His hands run up my thighs and play with my garter as I begin rubbing his chest. “Well, you were my first slutty wedding sex. I’ve had a few drunken make out sessions at weddings before.” I haven’t, that’s a total lie. I’ve actually never done anything with a stranger at a wedding besides dance with them. But the way Reese is staring up at me right now, eyes full of wonder, I feel the need to not sound like such an angelic virgin hovering over this experienced player. I clear my throat and massage down his arms, seeing his eyes close again and giving me the opportunity to stare while he isn’t watching me. “Have you called other girls ‘love’?”
A small smile forms on his lips as his eyes remain closed. “No, just you.”
I feel my heart swell. Hmm, I like that. “Were there a lot of girls before me?” I speak without thought and clamp my eyes shut, bracing myself for his answer. The same image runs through my mind of the hundreds of girls in his office and I pray for a low number. A really low number.
“Dylan, do you really want to go there? Can’t you just ask me what my favorite movie is or some shit?”
I slowly open my eyes and see him staring at me, green eyes blazing. Jesus, is it that big of a number that he doesn’t want to tell me? I think I have the right to know. “You know my number; it’s only fair. Just tell me if it’s in the triple digits or not.” My hands rest on his abdomen and I get a shocked expression.
“Jesus Christ. Triple digits?” He scrubs down his face with both hands. “I don’t know, close to twenty probably. Does it really fucking matter?” His hands return to my thighs and I glare at him.
“Yes, it really fucking matters, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.” Sliding off his body, I kneel next to him on the bed and grab a pillow to cover myself with. He quickly takes it away. “Give me that.”
“No. It’s my birthday and I want to look at you.” He tucks the pillow behind his head. “Now, tell me why it matters?” I shake my head and get off the bed, walking toward the doorway. “Where are you going?”
“To get some cake. It’s not like I can leave or anything. You destroyed my dress and I don’t have a car,” I call out behind me as I walk down the hallway. My mind is racing. Close to twenty? I’ve been with one guy besides him. One. I walk around the couch and pick up his dress shirt, slipping it on and letting it hang open since all the buttons had been ripped off. I bring the collar around my face and inhale deeply. Oh, man. Please let me keep this. I slice two pieces of cake and place them on plates, grabbing some forks and heading back down the hallway. Reese is now sitting up, his back against the headboard and the covers pulled up around his waist
“Wow.” I stop at the end of the bed and stare at him after he speaks, his eyes fixated on my attire. “You look beautiful in my shirt. Keep it.”
I smile and climb up on the bed, handing him his plate. “Here, happy birthday, handsome.” I lean in and give him a quick kiss with his cake, lingering for a few seconds as he moans against my lips.