Page 70 of Smut
I scratch the back of my neck, my heart rate slowly returning to normal. “Thanks, that’s lovely,” I tell her. My eyes dart to Amanda. “But I should be going.”
She looks at me, squinting, and maybe she can’t see me very well without her glasses. She nods, expressionless. “Okay,” she says, her voice clipped. “I’ll, uh, see you sometime.”
Holy fuck, she’s just done a 360 again. The robot is back.
“Right-O,” I tell her with a shrug, going to collect my things.
“Oh, don’t leave because of me!” Ana protests, waving the bottle around.
“It’s getting late,” I say with an apologetic smile. “You two ladies enjoy yourself.” I nod at Amanda. “Have a good night.”
I go out the door just in time to hear Ana ask, “Were you fucking or fighting?”
Once inside my car I feel like I can finally breathe. I wait a few moments, thinking Amanda might run out after me and make plans for tomorrow but that doesn’t happen.
Fuck. It was going so well. I came on strong but she was liking it and then…then we were interrupted and her stupid brain had to get involved and freak the fuck out.
Still, she was probably acting that way because Ana was there, and that lady is easily excitable on top of being completely barmy. I should be impressed she gained her composure so quickly.
I’ll call her tomorrow. We’ll make plans to write.
We’ll see what happens in the next chapter.
CHAPTER 12
Amanda
What the hell just happened?
It was my last thought before I fell asleep and my first thought as I woke up.
I lie back in bed, staring at the water stain patterns on the ceiling, as my head once again goes over everything. Only now it’s the harsh light of morning and I still haven’t figured out how to process it.
Last night…we got carried away. I should have known it was leading to that point. I mean, I kind of brought it upon myself. I shaved my legs. My cooch. I put on my fanciest lace bra and panties. I even wore my hair in a braid, which is one step away from it being down.
I knew Ana was gone (or was supposed to be gone) and I invited him over because I wanted him to see that part of me. I was only half-joking when I brought him to see my room—I wanted him to really know who he was dealing with here.
He didn’t care. If anything, I think it endeared me to him. I’m sure if I suggested we skip writing and just play Fallout 4 instead all day, he’d totally be down for it.
Video games might have been a smarter choice. Video games don’t lead to acting out sex scenes from your erotica novel.
I groan and cover my face with my hands. What am I going to do? We kissed. I felt his erection, how fucking large he is, and it was all for me.
Me.
I mean, how can we go back to just writing and pretending that didn’t happen? I don’t think I can.
You have to, I tell myself. Otherwise you won’t be able to write a word, and throwing away a good thing for a quick fuck is the wrong choice here.
I’m right. I’m usually right. As well as we work together, as much as I’ve fantasized about Blake that way, sleeping with him would be a massive mistake. It would be good…hot…no doubt wild and sweaty and sorely needed, and god I’d give anything to wrap my hands around his cock, feel how thick he is and…
No. It would be a massive mistake. And he’d never commit to you, so don’t even think about having a future together.
Fuck. One kiss and a hint at heavy petting and I’m spending my morning arguing with myself.
Luckily the smell of coffee and bacon brings me out of bed. After Blake left—and I felt kind of bad being so dismissive with him—Ana and I stayed up for a bit watching James Corden and drinking wine. She volleyed a thousand questions at me and I deflected them all with simple yes or no answers. I hope she doesn’t start that today because I definitely don’t have the patience before my coffee kicks in.
“Good morning,” she calls out as I take a seat at the kitchen table. “I’m making bacon and regular pancakes.”