Rug Burns (Reviving Haven Book 2) Page 5

  “Oh…” I managed an ear-piercing scream as I felt my nails embed themselves into Joey’s upper arms. My body went stiff and I felt as though I were a slab of rock.

  He continued to thrust faster and faster. “Baby, I’m coming… Oh God, it feels so good…”

  I could feel his body shudder as he began to slow his pace. When he finally came to a stop, we lay there in silence. He moved slowly as he arched upward on one arm, pulling out. My thighs felt drenched, and I knew it wasn’t from my release. He adjusted himself, and I heard him struggle to remove the condom.

  “Fuck, Red. I think you lived up to your name,” he said in a sarcastic tone.

  I was seriously embarrassed. What had I been thinking? There must be blood everywhere. Oh my God, I think I can smell it. I sniffed the air. The room was rich with the scent of sex and copper.

  “Where’s your bathroom? I need to wash up,” he asked.

  I struggled to sit. I grabbed my sweats and put them across my crotch. For the first time, I felt dirty.

  “First door around the corner,” I managed to croak out. I wanted to cry—again. Not because of physical pain, but because I was humiliated. The way Joey Miles acted, he made me feel like a whore, and for once, I was in agreement. I should have said no adamantly. He would have been satisfied with oral sex—they always are.

  Maybe actual sex got better with time.

  So this would be how I lost my virginity at nineteen. Banging the hottest jock in college, who had a broken arm, and I was bleeding everywhere. Bloodbath. Oh God.

  “So, Red… it was…” He chuckled as he came back into the room. “Good thing I was able to clean up. Your neighbors would have thought I murdered you.” He tossed me a towel.

  My face was burning brightly, and it was probably the exact color of the beach towels under me. I needed Joey to go home.

  I could hear him fumbling around.

  “Stop! Do not turn on the lamp. I’m embarrassed enough. Don’t make it worse.”

  “Not to worry, Red. Just trying to find my keys.”

  What a fucking prick. He was leaving? No after kissing or cuddling? Okay, I understood it was messy and probably grossly unsanitary, but really? What a dick.

  “You’re leaving? Whatever.” I was miffed. Yes, I wanted him to go, but I wanted to be the one to ask him to leave. Fucker hadn’t even said anything about us having sex. Good, bad, or indifferent. Pig.

  He knelt by me as I heard the jingling of keys. “I’m sorry, but were you expecting us to have a heart-to-heart afterward?” he said as he stood up, wrestling with his shirt. “Truth is I didn’t honestly believe you were a virgin. I mean, really? You, Red? Anyone who can polish a knob like you, I guess I just expected you to be experienced in the bedroom. It wasn’t bad. Don’t get me wrong. Just kind of messy.”

  “Just fucking leave, asshole.”

  “Oh, come on, Red. I’d be willing to come back in, say…” He paused briefly. “Three or four days and give it another go around.

  “Don’t bother. It wasn’t that great,” I spit out.

  “Mmm… interesting, since you have nothing to compare it with and your body tells a completely different story. I think you did like it. In fact, I’ll go out on a limb and say you loved it. Thanks for letting me be the one who broke you in.”

  I was furious. I bolted up and wrapped the towel around my waist. “Please go. And I wouldn’t be so quick to think you were amazing. I have no doubt there are others that are better. Now get out.” I pushed him through the door, praying everyone on my floor was asleep or gone for the evening. Normally, I loved advertising my conquests, but not so much currently.

  I could hear him whistle as he made his way down the hall.

  Motherfucker. I quickly clicked on the light switch. Oh yeah, it was bad. Like crime scene bad. I grabbed the towels and tossed them on the kitchen floor in a pile, then scanned the carpet for any remnants of what just happened. I marched to the bathroom and got into the shower, standing there for at least twenty minutes. I let Joey Miles get to me. He broke my fucking spirit. I didn’t like it. I towel-dried myself and put on clean clothes before taking the dirty ones downstairs to the laundry room.

  Once I loaded the washer, I retreated into my room. Cherry Garcia and I were going to get reacquainted. My lips on him and a spoon. I thought about what just happened and if I wanted to repeat it. Abso-fucking-lutely. True, the first five minutes were excruciating, and I hoped that didn’t happen every time. And no sex ever again during my cycle. Head only.

  I chuckled. Joey Miles was now on my shit list. God help him if he told the tale of our one night together. I hoped my reputation wasn’t going to suffer. People generally liked me regardless of the sexual innuendos. I wondered what and if he was going to tell anyone. Men ordinarily bragged about their conquests. I was curious how much detail he would go into. I could always deny it, but I was never good at lying. It wasn’t in my nature. I was honest to a fault. And if he did spread all the details about tonight, my nickname would forever be RED—even if I dyed my hair a different color.

  5

  Haven and I made a lovely pair when she got home. Not only was she bitchy, but also frustrated. Harold was gay. I probably should have realized that prior to making the date, but it wasn’t until he came to the door that I’d known for sure. If I had been a true friend, I would have warned her. The fact was she needed to go out, and Harold, gay or not, appeared to be a nice person. And after my evening, I wished Haven had stayed home and I would have gone out with Harold.

  I chose to tell her my woes. Misery loves company, so share the pain. Well, I made the pain part more palatable. I had a feeling if she knew how uncomfortable it really was, she’d hold on to her V-card forever. I had no doubt I would be aching tomorrow. I’d exercised muscles I’d never used before and then some. I described the entire ordeal in Technicolor. Haven’s jaw dropped when I outlined every single detail down to the bloody towels and what he said.

  Haven’s hand flew to her mouth. “Okay, enough with the narrative. Wow, just wow. Kind of happy Harold turned out to be gay. I mean, honestly, it doesn’t sound romantic or inviting. What were you thinking?” she asked as she shook her head. “Weezie, tell me the truth. You aren’t toting a penis are you? Because I swear, everything is sexual with you. You do realize Joey is going to broadcast this all over campus.”

  I nodded. “Well, it started out as just a blow—”

  Haven’s hand flew up in front of my face.

  “Oh my God. Please stop calling it a blowjob—you promised,” she whispered quietly, as if someone would hear her through the walls.

  “Okay, no cock sucking, BJ, hoovering, slurpin’ the gherkin, or fellatio. Ooh, I love how fellatio just rolls off my tongue,” I cooed as I watched her turn ten shades of red. I laughed. I loved rattling her cage. Haven was such a prude; it was a miracle we ever became best friends.

  “Stop. Please. We made a deal. You swore you’d refer to that as puff chore. At least around me.”

  “Okay, pinky swear, but things would change if you would try it. I promise you that,” I said as I tossed her a banana from the fruit bowl.

  Haven dropped it as if it were on fire. “Stop it, Weezie,” she hissed.

  I snickered and rolled my eyes, picking up the banana as I flopped on the sofa. “Okay, sweetie, you came up with a less vulgar term for a—what I love to do. So whenever I’m around you, it will be forevermore a puff chore, aka sucking cock. I swear,” I said as I mimicked sucking the banana.

  “You are so rude. I mean really. I leave the dorm for two hours, and you’re off doing porn practically.” Haven huffed.

  “I hardly think that… which will remain nameless for now and losing my virginity constitutes porn. It’s not as if I was paid. And speaking of deflowering—and I’m only using that term because you read that fucking historical smut—you do realize at some point, you’re going to have to tear off those big girl panties and start wearing butt floss?”

&n
bsp; “Shut up.” Haven laughed as she tossed a throw pillow. “Eat your banana—no, not like that.” And she tossed her hands in the air in defeat as I began deep throating the fruit.

  *****

  I was actually surprised. There were no repercussions or fallout from the events of the previous night. In the upcoming months, I hardly saw Joey, and when we did cross paths, I ignored him. I was anxious to do it again. He’d been right when he said I had nothing to compare it to. So I would gladly take his advice and do a comparison test.

  Things were getting better. Not that they weren’t good before, but now life appeared to be opening up—for both Haven and me. Our relationship blossomed. She got me. We had great times together, and we were able to share our worries, dreams, and emotional baggage. Both of us had come from a good family, had outstanding parents, and we were seemingly well adjusted. For me, though, I lived for the sexual contact. Sure, having actual sex now was fabulous, but I still thrived when I could give a blowjob. I found intercourse passionate and hot, but for me personally, it was all about giving oral.

  It was a salacious act for me. Fucking didn’t give me the same high, probably because I was never in charge. I was still a novice and hadn’t discovered how to take the control I craved. It was very disconcerting to never be on top—literally. It was nothing compared to having my hand wrapped snuggly around their cock and licking it as if it were a frozen treat. It was my mouth, my lips, and my hands doing it all. No one ruled me. I enjoyed intercourse. I just didn’t like giving authority to some random man I was simply using for sex. For me, a relationship was out of the question. I loved variety. I loathed eating at the same place twice unless the meal was extraordinary… That’s why I frequented buffets. You got to sample a little of everything. Men were like that.

  “You’re going out with Eric—again? Oh, Haven, that makes four dates. You do know what’s required on the fourth date?” I questioned as I arched my eyebrows up and down, trying to look dastardly.

  Haven turned and paused, her face tense. “Huh, what? It’s only a movie.”

  I laughed. Famous last words. “I did tell you I gave my first puff chore at the movies?”

  “La-la-la…” Haven squealed as she covered her ears with both hands. “Oh my God, Weezie, we’re going to see a French documentary. I seriously doubt Eric will be whipping his—you know what out.”

  “Cock! I think the word you’re searching for is cock. And for your information, if there are food or beverages involved, he’ll probably expect something… something,” I quipped. “Of course, that angelic frock you’re wearing might save you. Fuck, Haven, please for everything that is holy, LET ME DRESS YOU.”

  Haven flopped down on her bed, fingering her collar. It was tighter than the invisible chastity belt she wore. My bestie needed saving. Badly. I ran into my room and began going through my closet. I knew she wouldn’t wear most of the things I owned—too porno. But anything would be better than that high-collared dress from hell. I finally found a red little number. Short but tailored. A nice sweetheart collar and button-down front. Easy access. I would keep that important bit of info to myself.

  As I handed it to her, I watched as she inspected the dress. “Don’t you think it’s kind of short?”

  I groaned as I rolled my eyes. “Sweetie, it’s the longest dress I own. At least this one doesn’t require a beaver cut.”

  Haven blushed deeply. She was such a killjoy. Maybe Eric could fuck that puritanical out of her. I should have probably schooled her in what to expect.

  “You’re not on your period, are you?”

  Haven stood up and clutched the dress. “Jesus, Weezie, a little personal, don’t you think?” she scolded.

  “Just curious. I didn’t want us to have twin massacre events.”

  Haven’s mouth gaped open as she shook her head. “Good-bye—go away please,” she uttered as she pushed me toward her bedroom door.

  “Wait. Condoms.”

  “Get. Out. Now.” She huffed.

  “He’ll probably have some anyway,” I said optimistically as I padded into the living room, snickering.

  I could hear her mumbling under her breath. I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t caught with her pants down. I giggled. Her and the dreaded granny underwear. I quickly ran back into my room and grabbed a lacy thong out of my drawer. I quietly opened up Haven’s door and tossed them in. Hopefully, she would have enough sense to wear them, just in case. I could imagine the look on Eric’s face as he fumbled, trying to remove those old lady briefs.

  Haven came out ten minutes later. Wow. The dress looked really pretty on her.

  “Get rid of the glasses. Totally ruins the entire look.” I snorted.

  “I’m going to a movie, a foreign film. I kind of need to see the subtitles,” she replied, sounding annoyed.

  Only she would actually want to watch this film. I guaranteed Eric had other ideas. I was one hundred percent positive he wasn’t gay. I checked around first. Still nerdy but attractive and seemed nice. Haven needed nice. I didn’t want her first time to be like mine. She didn’t love this guy, but that was okay. I was sure he wasn’t going to be a jerk-off as Joey had been. As long as he treated her with respect and kindness, I’d be happy for her. One of us should experience the bells and flowers.

  I wasn’t staying in tonight. My favorite words besides I love cock? Frat party. Nothing better than horny and hot intoxicated men. They would always be at my mercy. Maybe I was slightly loose with my wares. But I was young and single, so I planned to enjoy myself.

  I was always prepared. God knows you couldn’t count on a man to be responsible. Once you were going down on them, they got sloppy. I, unlike them, cared about my health. The thought of disease or pregnancy made me shudder. Years ago, when my parents told me the facts, it should have been enough to dissuade me. But at sixteen, I had tasted the fruit and I planned to savor the hundreds of varieties. Well, maybe not hundreds, but I thoroughly wanted to sample many. Now that I’d been introduced to actual sex, aka intercourse, I felt like I had more to offer.

  There were a few that wanted to date me, be with me in a relationship, and fuck me. I chose the latter. I didn’t need to be wined and dined. I had money and means. The men I chose didn’t have to prove themselves monetarily. I would never do a relationship; I lived by my own rules. Men regarded any repeat performance as thumbs-up for commitment. Ugh! That would never happen. I’d seen what it had done to other girls. The men thought they owned you and wanted full dominance. I enjoyed being on top—figuratively.

  I hadn’t had enough sexual experience yet to master diversity. I think most of my friends called it “vanilla” sex. In one of my books, they called it missionary. I was looking forward to the variety of positions listed in the Kama Sutra.

  Haven never came home that night. I crept into our small apartment about four thirty and she wasn’t in her bed. She’d spent the night with Eric. Wow. This was monumental. Maybe I should’ve hung a banner or bought a cake. Depending on which way it went. Ice cream, maybe a gallon just in case. There was no pain in the world that a bowl of icy, creamy goodness couldn’t fix. It had been months since I gave it up to Joey dickhead, and now my bestie was following in my footsteps. Well, at least I hoped she was.

  They say opposites attract. I guess that’s why Haven and I bonded. While I was a business major, she studied journalism. While I sucked actual cock, she read smutty romance books about sucking cock. Eventually, I wanted to move to Malibu or Beverly Hills and maybe do real estate. I didn’t have to work. My inheritance would kick in at twenty-one. But I didn’t enjoy being idle, so regardless, I wanted to work and get experience under my belt, to have my own business eventually.

  I could have lived off campus. I had viewed some nice condominiums. But Haven had made it clear she couldn’t afford anything that extravagant. She didn’t want to keep me from living more upscale, and she’d opted to find a new dorm mate. While the fifteen hundred square-foot plush condo had been calling
my name, I settled on our tiny apartment on campus. It was what she could afford, and I had no problem sacrificing luxury, because I couldn’t imagine sharing my adventures with anyone else. She and I meshed. We disagreed on quite a few things, but somehow we worked.

  Haven finally came home at ten in the morning. It was a good thing it was the weekend because she looked “rode hard and put up wet.”

  “Please do not say a word,” she said with her head slumped.

  Seriously, there was no way I couldn’t say anything. “Is this your version of the walk of shame, or is it the drive of distress?” I said as I strolled into the kitchen to make some breakfast. “Want a waffle or a greasy egg sandwich?” I snorted because I could tell she was hung over. There was no chance in hell Eric pried her legs apart without the assistance of alcohol.

  She waved her hands in front of her face and then covered her mouth. “Jesus, I asked you not to speak. And if you start talking about food, there will be more than bloodstains on this carpet,” she whispered as a burp slipped out of her mouth.

  I bit back a chuckle. My BFF was a hung-over ex-virgin. She’d never had sex and she hardly ever drank. After three campus parties where she ended up praying to the porcelain god all night, now she was strictly a wine girl. I couldn’t wait to hear about last night with Eric. The suspense was killing me.

  “Okay, sweetie, you go take a nap, and when you get up, I’ll trade you some ginger ale for a blow-by-blow of last night’s event,” I quipped.

  “Ha-ha, there was no puff chore-ing last night,” she said as she headed toward her bedroom.

  “Tell me you were defiled and Eric was a Viking in bed.”

  “Kill me now.” She sighed under her breath as she closed her door.