Stripped Bare (Stripped #1)

“Then...I don’t know. Get sick.”


“I can’t do that. She needs to be around for Jamie right now.”

“Then, sissypants, buck the fuck up and get on with it,” she finally said. “People are dying around the world and you’re worried about getting your panties wet when you have to go to work.”

“They’re hardly comparable.”

“Exactly. So quit bitching and get on with it.”

“Geez, Bridezilla,” I said slowly. “Who stole your coffee this morning?”

“Nobody. This just isn’t the Mia I know. The Mia I know doesn’t give a shit how attracted to somebody she is. She gets the hell on with it regardless of the situation.”

“Yeah, well, this Mia is screwed because this situation is really fucky. I mean, come on. This situation has a sinfully hot guy with a tongue that could break the world record for the longest vaginal oral sex. He should either be teaching awkward teenaged boys how to do it to save the next generation the horrors we went through or do porn.” Probably both. “No, both. He should be doing both of those things.”

“That was too much information.”

I shrugged though she couldn’t see it. I didn’t really care. I was in dire straits and her best advice was to get on with it.

“Look, babe, it’s not the end of the world. Chances are it wouldn’t matter if you knew him already anyway. If you were gonna be this attracted to him, you would be regardless.”

“That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” I argued. “Got any other predictions up your sleeve, Oh Great Psychic?”

“Not psychic. Common sense. If it’s really that bad, then just screw your way through the next couple of weeks. At least then you’ll be having fun while you’re doing it. And it’s not like you’re working at an old people’s home, is it?”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? I can’t screw my way through the next two weeks.”

“Well, it’s that or you stop whining about it.”

“You have no sympathy for me, do you?” I huffed. Some best friend she was.

“No. You told him yesterday morning you’re shit at personal relationships—”

“Because I am.”

“—and then, twelve hours later, you were sitting on his face with his dick in your mouth. It doesn’t get much more personal than coming on someone’s face, Mia.”

Like I hadn’t already known that. I wasn’t going to tell her that I’d done it three times, either.

“That doesn’t help, Allie.”

“I’m not in the mood for helping. You’re not helping yourself by moping around on your kitchen table.”

“How did you know I was at the kitchen table?”

She sighed. “Because you always mope at the kitchen table.”

“Oh, what am I gonna do? I can’t go in there right now and act like nothing happened, can I?”

“I don’t see that you have much choice,” she replied slowly. “You have to finish this off. And him. You finished him off, right?”

“Allie!”

“What? I was wondering. You said about you... Yeah. Never mind.” She paused. “You’re gonna be attracted to him whatever you do. You may as well just deal with it and go with the flow.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m getting schooled by a virgin.”

“Ha!” She burst into laughter.

“Do you mind if I just blame you for this? You’re the one who booked him for me, after all.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who invited him back to your hotel room. I didn’t make you do that. This is what you get for taking a virgin to a strip club. The Slut God and Virgin God rain hell upon your greedy vagina.”

“You need to lay off the TV,” I noted. “But I’m still blaming you. I never would have met him otherwise.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. If it makes you feel better, blame me. We both know it’ll still be your fault. Call him, Mia. At least then he’ll be expecting you.”

“I’m not calling him.”

More laughter. “Call him, and when you get there, try to keep your panties on, okay?”

“No. Gotta go, byeeeeee.” I drew the word out and hung up before she could say another word.

True as hell, my phone buzzed with a message from her a few seconds later.



Allie: CALL WEST!



No. I damn well wouldn’t call him.

Vicky’s words about him being frustrated after our supposed chat had rattled around in my head all night. Of course, in typical female fashion, calling him and asking him why would have been too easy. No, I was destined to assume any number of things I’d done wrong.

Could you do something wrong by swallowing a guy’s come?

Didn’t they like that?

Was he a strange one who didn’t?

Was that what I’d done? Had I swallowed it when I was supposed to spit?

Good grief. There’s a train of thought I’d never thought I’d have to have.