Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
She covers her mouth, eyes wide, then leans in even closer, as if we’re sharing a secret from a thousand miles away. “Was it super hot and dirty?”
I nod, silent.
“Absolutely filthy. He was fucking her like a rag-doll, and she was loving it.”
Mary Kate stares at me, then tips her head back and howls. “Oh my god, you little perv! Was his dick huge? I mean, sometimes hot guys have small penises. Not Kent, of course. My fiancé is hung like a horse.”
I can’t help it. I laugh, but it comes out strangled. “Yes, Trevor’s packing and I mean, huge XL sized. His dick’s like a goddamn beer bottle. I didn’t even think that was possible.”
“Holy shit,” MK says, eyes gleaming. “No wonder you’re obsessed.”
“I’m not obsessed,” I protest, but even I can hear how pathetic it sounds. “He’s just… unattainable, you know? Like wanting to fuck Superman. Or, like, a male model or Henry Cavill.”
She smirks. “Henry Cavill is Superman, but I hear you, girl. You have issues.”
“Big ones,” I agree.
We both sit with it for a moment. Then Mary Kate clears her throat and goes back to the earlier track. “So you’re still a virgin …”
“Yes,” I say slowly, eyeing her. “What are you getting at?”
Mary Kate gives a wicked grin. “Well, Stella’s actually floating a new bet since Andie already won. But it’s gross. Something about who can take two guys at once first. Or, like, two dicks in the same—”
I interrupt her with a squeal. “Oh my god. Double penetration? OMG, OMG.”
She shrugs. “Don’t ask me, I’m not the one dating two guys at once because that’s Stella’s jam. Anyway, you don’t have to do any of that. Just get your cherry popped and you’re off the hook.”
I consider it, then shake my head. “I’m not even ready for regular one-guy sex. At the wedding, I almost passed out just watching.”
Mary Kate leans forward, eyes twinkling. “You know what you need to do, right? Just get Trevor to do it. Pop your cherry. Then, like, do all the other stuff with him too. Anal. Double anal. Double vaginal. Home run sweep.”
My mouth goes dry. I stare at her, and she stares back, and we both know it’s not a joke.
She softens her voice. “Is that what you want?”
I put the mug down, hands shaking a little. “Yes,” I say, barely above a whisper. “But I don’t think Trevor wants me.”
Mary Kate makes a dramatic snort. “Are you blind? This guy wants you, Kay.”
I shake my head. “How do you know?”
“I just know,” she says in a queenly voice. “You’re gorgeous Kay, and no guy wants a porn star when he get can get a hot, filthy princess. You know, a lady in the streets, but a freak in the sheets.”
I shoot her a wry look.
“You don’t know Trevor. I don’t think he wants a lady at all. I mean, he brought a total slut to a family event. He wants someone who’s publicly a tramp, and doesn’t care about optics. If she dresses like a ho, then all the better.”
“Well,” MK says, her voice edged with certainty. “You’ve got it. I can feel it, Kay. He’s just waiting for you to make the first move.”
I snort. “What am I supposed to do, send him nudes? Invite him to a sleepover?”
Mary Kate’s eyes get devilish. “Why not? Or better—go to that bachelor auction thing you were texting me about, and bid on him. Take him on a date, get him liquored up, and see what happens.”
I blink. I have to admit that this is what I’ve been plotting all along. “You think?”
“I know,” MK says in a queenly voice. “And if you win, I want every detail. Especially his size. I want photos and video. You know the virginity bet’s not over until it’s over,” she says, paraphrasing a Lenny Kravitz song.
We both crack up. I promise to think more on the bachelor auction, and she swears to send me photos of her wedding dress, and her ring, and even the first ultrasound if she gets knocked up early. For a moment, I almost feel normal. Not the awkward stepsister, not the perpetual runner-up, but a girl with, just maybe, a chance.
Suddenly, a deep voice in the background calls Mary Kate’s name. She scrambles off the counter, nearly dropping the phone. “Kent’s home from the gym,” she stage-whispers. “Wish me luck. He’s insatiable after dropping sets.”
“Go get him,” I say, laughing.
She flashes one last grin, and the call ends with a cheery snap. I’m alone in the humid silence, the coffee gone to sludge and the room smelling like hope and wet leaves.
I tuck my phone into my apron, stand, and start straightening the rows of baby succulents on the metal shelf, fingers brushing the soft, rubbery leaves. Outside, the sky is the color of fresh cream, and I can just see the tips of the city’s tallest towers over the flat roof of the strip mall next door. Somewhere, in one of those towers, Trevor’s probably sitting behind a glass wall, making six figures an hour and forgetting I exist.