“No way,” I tell her staunchly. “It was a bluff and he didn’t call it last night.”

“So, back to orgasms,” she prods.

“He’s amazing,” I tell her with a smile on my face. “The sex… God, Elena… it’s like nothing I ever imagined. When we first got to his apartment, he put me on my knees and then…”

I hesitate because it’s almost too dirty to say. But she merely cocks an eyebrow at me that says, “Girl… you rode a power dildo for that man… nothing could be dirtier than that.”

That’s true.

“He fucked my face,” I tell her.

Her eyes get round, and she leans forward so far, I’m afraid she’ll topple to the ottoman. “Damn, that’s so hot. Did you deep throat him?”

I shake my head with a grin. “No. My gag reflex sucks, but he started trying to overcome it later.”


“He was… um… fucking me on my back, and he put his finger in my mouth and told me to suck it. And so, I did. Then he pushed it back further a little each time, until he had me swallowing it. I was so discombobulated by him hammering me into the mattress, I didn’t even think about my gag reflex.”

“My panties are wet,” Elena says as she grins at me. “Seriously wet. Vince would shit his pants if he knew about this. I want to email him right now.”

“Knew about what?” I ask her curiously.

Vince didn’t expect me to be celibate because he’d emailed me two days after I’d returned to Henderson to tell me that he thought it was best we have the freedom to “explore other options”. That translated to him wanting to have sex with other women, and it crushed me. I cried for two straight days after that and wouldn’t come out of my room.

“Isn’t it clear?” Elena asks.

“Apparently not,” I say dryly.

“Vince was the one who was bad at sex,” Elena says. “I know you haven’t told me about every sexual thing you’ve done with him, but I’m pretty sure the most exciting thing you two did was he had you give him a hand job in an empty movie theater. Woo-hoo. That just screams never-ending orgasms.”

I laugh at my friend, not because she’s silly—because she totally is—but because she can freely admit her dislike of Vince now. I mean, I always knew she didn’t like him but she was a good friend. She tolerated him because I loved him.

When we decided to get married because of the baby, Elena voiced her opinion to me once, and that was to tell me that she didn’t think that was a good reason to get married. But she didn’t harass me about it; she let me make my own choices.

Not long after we married, Vince told me one night that he had been scared shitless about the prospect of parenthood. He went on to tell me he wasn’t ready, and maybe the miscarriage was God’s way of telling us to slow down. I essentially took that to mean that Vince didn’t really want kids. Elena was there to listen to me cry heartbroken through the phone. She didn’t even tell me “I told you so” once even though she had reason to.

But I stuck with that damn marriage because I thought love could triumph and that as Vince got older, he’d get the desire for kids one day.

Sadly, that never manifested. Maybe that’s why things broke down between us. I wanted kids like I wanted to see a sunrise every morning. Maybe I stopped being good enough in bed because sex with him was just sex and nothing else. It wasn’t a means to create something more beautiful.

My phone rings on the couch beside me and I grab it, holding it up and hoping to see Walsh’s name. He’s not responded to my texts today, but I also know he was working.

“Oh, shit,” I say as my eyes pop up to Elena as I take in the name on my screen. “It’s Vince.”

“Jesus,” she mutters. “It’s like he knew I was telling you he was a shitty lover.”

Snickering, I shoot her an amused wink and answer the phone. It’s the first time we’ve talked since I left the house. “Hello.”

“Hey, Jorie,” he says, and I recognize that tone in his voice. It’s conciliatory. He wants something.

“What do you want, Vince?” I ask in a tired voice. Just with two words—Hey, Jorie—he tired me out.

“I want to check in on you,” he says softly but with a tiny hint of offense.

“Why?” I ask in confusion.

He’s silent a moment before he says, “Because I miss you.”

“Oh, hell no,” I snap into the phone, and Elena’s eyes go wide. “You do not get to do that.”

Normally, if I were to talk to him in the way I just did—all combative and itching to fight—he would come at me with barrels blazing.

Tags: Sawyer Bennett The Wicked Horse Vegas Billionaire Romance
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