“I didn’t have time to make an appointment with my waxer because you sprang the date on me. My beave was getting unruly, and I wasn’t sure how tonight would go. I wanted to be prepared in case this happened . . .” I motion to his hands.

Alex follows the movement with his eyes. His thumb moves over the purplish-red spot. Sadly, this means his thumb also moves away from my clit.

“I thought I could do it myself. You know, wax my beaver?” Alex’s brows come down low. Of course he doesn’t know. “I do my own legs sometimes, and I figured it would be easy. Judging by the result, I was wrong.” I finish with a poke at my bruise. I cringe; it hurts.

He tilts his head to the side, his expression doubtful. “Waxing?”

“Only you and your fingers, and your mouth, and your behemoth dick, and my fingers, and my collection of vibrators have been near me in the last six months. Oh, and the gyno—”

Jesus, why can’t I shut up?

“The gyno?”

I nod vigorously. “Uh, yeah, she’s female, so no worries there.” He doesn’t ask why I went to the gyno. I don’t want to tell him the truth. After sleeping with him I developed acute paranoia, afraid I contracted a contagious hockey whore disease.

Thankfully, Alex focuses on the other tidbit of information I let slip in the midst of my verbal vomit.

“You have a collection of vibrators?”

His thumbs inch in closer. Actually, it’s more like millimeter in closer. I do the damn moaning thing followed by an odd sobbing sound, wishing I could lie.

“Not a collection, a few . . . a travel one I ordered through one of those pervy sites, one I bought at a smut store, and one Charlene bought me. I think it was supposed to be a joke. It’s weird looking and textured. Like all these balls fused together? It’s not very effective for getting off—unless I’m using it wrong.”

Alex looks simultaneously disturbed and turned on. He blinks a few times and licks his lips as if trying to decide what to do or say next.

He doesn’t respond with words, but his lips are on mine again and his tongue is in my mouth. At the same time, he grazes my clit with both thumbs, causing me to make another odd sound he seems to like. All of a sudden we’re in motion. Alex grips my ass and lifts me off the air hockey table.

“God you’re sexy,” he says, carrying me to the expensive-looking leather sofa.

I have to wonder if he actually heard my ramblings about my waxing malfunction and my plastic penis collection.

He lays me on the couch; one of his knees settles between mine and the other hits the floor. Reaching behind me, Alex nabs a throw pillow and tucks it under my head. He’s so considerate.

I run my hands from his chest to the waistband of his pants. Unbuckling the belt and popping the button, I slide my fingers between the material and his skin. He’s commando, which I find interesting since he has a lot to contain.

I wrap my fingers around the hard, damp shaft of his monster cock. We’re both making noises similar to the soundtrack of a porno—they’re coming from me because I’m finally touching his ridiculously huge dick again; and I assume it probably feels good for Alex, too.

He kisses his way to my mouth. “I can’t wait to be in you.”

I can’t and don’t want to say no. A very small part of me clings to the belief I need to make him wait for sex. Like maybe until our next date. Two weeks from now is a long time, though, and it’s already been a month since we’ve been naked together. If I hold off, my beaver might explode from lack of use.

Alex pushes up on his arms. I get an awesome view of his broad chest and the treasure trail leading to monster cock land. He seems unsure of himself. “Sorry. I’m sorry. We don’t have to have sex. I don’t want you to do anything you’ll feel bad about later.”

When he says those kinds of things, paired with his earlier comment, I want to be his love slave. An image of me in a black corset wearing a collar with a leash attached to it pops into my head. Maybe stupid Lydia was right to cut the smut from the book club for a while.

“I won’t feel bad.” I’m pretty sure I’ll feel good, actually.

“You’re sure?” Alex trails his fingers down my side.

“Positive.” I’m still holding his cock; it’s still massively hard.

“I should take you upstairs.”

I have no desire to stop touching him long enough to make the trip upstairs. “I’m good here. I like your couch.” They seem like good luck charms where Alex is concerned.

“My bed is more comfortable, and there’s more room.” He drops his head into the hollow of my throat, his lips touching my skin.

“I’m sure you’re right, but then we’d have to stop doing what we’re doing.”

“You make a good point.”

Alex reaches behind me, and with a quick flick, he opens the clasp and tosses my bra on the floor. My panties follow.

I slide his pants over his hips. His cock pops out, nearly smacking me in the face. I bob and weave to avoid getting poked in the eye by his swinging dick. My lack of coordination is an unfortunate issue, and I inadvertently whack it.

Alex bows forward, swearing. I grab his dick to avoid additional mishaps and apologize for beating on the monster cock. It’s level with my boobs. I have an idea. He seems to have an extreme fascination with my chest. Keeping my eyes on his, I circle a nipple with the tip.

One second he’s all soft and tender and “is this okay?” and “are you sure?” The next he’s got my hair wrapped around his fist. His body is wound tighter than a coiled snake ready to strike, which is fitting since I’m rubbing his “snake” on my boobs.