Maneater Page 9

  “I had a one-night stand with a black guy, and it was a nice size,” Crystal tells us, smirking.

  “Come on, Jemma, I know that face. What are you hiding?” Jasmine queries me. God, I’m like an open book.

  “Okay, okay. Once I went black, and it's true, I found it hard to go back to anything else,” I state, shrugging. I tried to avoid this discussion.

  “Tell me more, tell me more,” Jasmine orders, smiling widely and looking intrigued by my confession.

  I shake my head. “Damn, it was hard to move on ... that anaconda of his was a beautiful specimen.”

  I broke my own rule; I went back numerous times, but I did say it’s okay if they were hot. Or well-endowed in this case.

  Jasmine and Crystal are both giggling.

  “He pleasured me for hours. I literally couldn’t walk afterwards, but it was so worth it. He moved back to Africa and took his anaconda with him,” I lament, still remembering the day he told me he was leaving.

  Oh, God, I had withdrawals from that beautiful specimen.

  But it's all a life lesson. He didn't talk much; it was purely physical but perfect timing for us both. We scratched each other's itches, and we had fun.

  “You girls will appreciate this one. I totally had lockjaw a couple of times, but besides that, it was fun,” I add, and the laughter becomes hysterical.

  “Wait for the punchline,” I state as I know from when I told Roxy that it’s totally hilarious.

  “His name was Desta, and the Swahili meaning was ‘pleasure is coming.’”

  “No fucking way,” Jasmine replies in a low voice to avoid Tony hearing, though I’m sure he has heard the laughter.

  “I know, right? It's hilarious. Like seriously, pleasure is coming. Oh, it came baby, we hit a quartet and quintuple ... is that even a word? Let me tell you, five orgasms in a two-hour period is mind blowing, awe inspiring, and sensational,” I declare, and they look at me in amazement.

  “You, Miss Donovan, get to have all the fun!” Jasmine replies with her hand on her hip.

  “First and last time a guy has done that,” I add, knowing it was either a fluke or he was a freak of nature.

  Three out of the five were from sex. The J spot was Desta's favourite thing, he used to tell me.

  We are still Facebook friends.

  Seeing him shirtless brings back memories; I honestly don't know how he fits that thing in his pants. It could have its own postcode.

  The last I saw, Desta was dating a woman named Paloma. I stalked her pics, and I can't help but wonder if that petite abdomen of hers can handle Desta's package. Well, sure, lube it up ...

  She might be looser than she looks.

  I'm such a dweeb, thinking about this stuff.

  ***

  The week flies by. Roxy and I have another belly dancing class; the other nights I go walking after work. Something is playing on my mind, and I’m neither confirming nor denying anything. All I know is that I’m feeling frustrated with certain feelings and not in the bedroom.

  It’s Thursday night, and I’m picking Dan up for the movies, and considering we had the swimming catch-up between, this movie has been a long time coming. We’re seeing The Fate of the Furious. I am totally itching to see this movie. Vin Diesel, The Rock (not my Rock, the other one), and Jason Statham in the same movie? Bring on the action and cars. Oh, and the hotness won’t be all bad.

  Dan’s apartment is pretty flash on the outside. I can kind of remember the inside from the night we hooked up; it was clean and tidy and very much plain in black and white. But that’s manly; I appreciate that.

  “Come inside, I’m just putting on my shoes,” he announces as he opens the door, looking handsome as always. I take a seat on the lounge while he bounds off to another room.

  I remember Dan saying he worked for the family business, so my guess is that he gets paid extremely well, based on the modern apartment, leather lounge, and artwork on the walls.

  “Wow, this is nice,” I state, totally impressed. No wonder he wanted me to come up.

  “Yeah, I do love this place,” he tells me as he sits and puts on his Converse.

  “Nice shoes.” He looks at mine and realises what I mean. Our shoes could be twins—except, of course, his are the male style and mine the female. But both are black Converse. I went for the casual look with jeans and hoodie, channelling my Victoria Beckham soccer-mum style. My hair is out and a little wild today. I sprayed a little de-frizz, and I’m letting it be wavy.

  “Ha-ha, what awesome taste you have,” he jokes.

  I stand as he grabs his keys and wallet then he grabs my waist, pulling me in for a kiss. I get goosebumps along my skin.

  “You should always be welcomed with a kiss, Jemma,” he declares.

  “Is that right, DJ?” I question, knowing he won’t be happy with the nickname.

  “Yes, Jemma Kate, you are a beautiful woman, and you deserve to be treated like one,” he replies, ignoring the nickname and complimenting me yet again.

  What is it about his compliments that aren’t tacky like the ones I’ve had in the past?

  “Flattery will get you far, Mr Westbrook,” I reply, smirking as we leave the apartment.

  ***

  Even though I insist I’m paying, Dan shouts popcorn and a drink.

  We sit in the row fourth from the back, both agreeing the middle has the best view.

  Like always, conversation is easy and sitting with him is relaxing. The movie is filled with humour, and damn, the cars are hot. He reaches over and squeezes my hand. I smile at him as he tries to hold it, but I remove it from his grasp. No strings, remember. Well, sure, it’s only a form of physical contact, but it’s intimate, which could lead to feelings, and that leads to strings.

  He shakes his head, but I can see he is smiling; it’s like a battle of wills. I’ve been this way for the last ten years, so good luck trying to change me.

  When the movie ends, I stand, stretching. “Like seriously, that was the best out of the lot,” I announce honestly. It had humour, plenty of action, and eye candy too.

  “Yep, I totally agree. How many cars do you think were injured during filming?” he jokes, and I nod; there were hundreds of cars.

  “I guess a lot of it is computer generated imagery these days,” I say. I just can’t imagine them destroying beautiful vehicles.

  He nods while he finishes his drink. I watch him sucking at the straw, knowing all too well what those lips are capable of.

  Damn, it must be all the testosterone of the cars and guys; and of course, the guy I’m with is pretty damn fine too.

  “Why Jem, you are looking a little flushed. Are you okay?” he teases with a gleam in his eye.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I snarkily reply and start to walk out of the cinema. He grabs my arm and pulls me into his body.

  “I know that look; you’re horny,” he whispers, and it just got around ten degrees hotter. Then the cheeky bastard lets me go and takes the lead as we leave the cinema to find my snazzy little hatchback.

  I refuse to show him I’m affected by his comment or presence, so I drive silently back to his place.

  “Thanks for tonight,” I state as I park but keep the motor running.

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for driving,” he replies as he leans in to kiss my cheek. His lips linger then he places soft kisses along my jaw and down my neck, making me shiver.

  “I kind of have this no-sex rule I have to follow,” I whisper, toying with him.

  “Who said anything about sex?” the brazen man asks as he flicks his tongue in his mouth, showing me just what he has planned for me.

  I’m so hot you could fry an egg on me, and I just can’t refuse any longer, so I pounce on him and kiss him hard, passionately and hungrily. He kisses me with all the same emotions and needs.

  “Come upstairs,” he whispers, and I nod as we both exit the car in record speed. “Maybe I should rephrase,” he adds as he grabs my hand. “Get
your arse upstairs, and I’ll make you come.”

  I can’t stop the moan that escapes my mouth.

  We jog up to his apartment, and he unlocks his door.

  “Pants off,” he orders and points at the lounge.

  “I’m not one to argue,” I reply, and he laughs.

  “You are always one to argue.”

  “Not tonight, but I do have a request for you. You take yours off too,” I order.

  “Okay,” he replies. We both unbutton our jeans, watching each other with lust in our eyes. I strip out of my jeans, showing him my cobalt-blue thong. His eyes widen as I pull it down, exposing my nice runway.

  I watch him take off his jeans and briefs, showing he is so hard for me. It’s such a turn-on.

  “Lie down,” he orders, so I make myself comfortable on his leather lounge. He kneels between my legs.

  “Wait,” I tell him as he looks into my eyes. Now I’m going to get a little dirty; playful Jemma is horny but aims to please.

  “Do you want me to suck your cock while you lick my pussy?” I ask him, and I can’t hide the smirk; those words sound hot. I’m already wet at the thought.

  “Fuck, yes,” he replies. He first places a few soft feathery kisses on my stomach then he repositions himself, giving me access to his hard, warm cock.

  His mouth is on my wetness in seconds. “I’m so wet for you, Dan,” I tell him, and then I seductively take his cock into my mouth, getting it nice and wet for me to suck and pleasure.

  His tongue is deep inside me as he gets a rhythm swirling, each lick feeling amazing. He nibbles at my fold, just enough for pleasure, then inserts a finger inside, thrusting it deeply as I moan into his hardness. I follow his lead and add my hand, squeezing his balls, massaging them as I take his length, then repeat, just the way I know he likes it. I playfully lick the tip, then take his length again into my mouth, deep throating him.

  “Damn,” he moans as he enters a second finger inside me; his tongue finds my clit and flicks, swirls, and assaults, making me gyrate and buck from the sensation. I rub my fingers along his length as I massage and suck, harder and faster. My orgasm hits like lightning as I keep sucking, he keeps licking, and my juices explode as ecstasy takes me on an amazing ride, wave after wave.

  “I’m going to come,” he announces, and I’m so hot and horny and tingling that I don’t stop but increase my speed, bringing him to his own release. His warm liquid squirts down my throat, and I take every drop as he thrusts and spurts.

  “Every fucking time, Jemma,” he declares as he collapses on the floor next to me.

  “You scratch my back, I scratch yours,” I tell him, smiling widely.

  Oral sex, nothing much better. Sometimes you don’t need penetration.

  Chapter 17

  Drama Llama

  Have you met the drama llama?

  Well, I hate him. One animal I care not to associate with.

  I have my work, my friends, my family, my little sex bubble, and I love it that way. What more do I need? But I don’t go posting about it all on Facebook.

  Vague booking about him or her, bitching about your life that is so terrible? Change it. Hate your job? Then quit.

  Don't be a negative asshole who hates the world and then tries to drag others down to their level.

  I know a few of these people and I unfriend them quicker than I can click my fingers. I have a few on my blocked list too.

  I don't like conflict, but hey, if it comes knocking, I'll give it my two cents and kick its arse to the kerb. Don't give a shit who it is.

  Many bitches have been in my face over a guy. They can have him. Like I said, I don't keep them around.

  So, when it’s brought to my attention by Tia who has a mutual friend of Stacey’s, who I now know as Stacey Lewis, has put up a Facebook post totally aimed at me, I see red. Who the hell does she think she is?

  Status - Stacey Lewis

  To the slut from the nightclub who thinks she can steal my man.

  He’s mine …

  I don’t share …

  Okay, so my first reaction is to laugh loudly. Steal her man? Trust me, he’s already told me he wanted more, so I could have him if I wanted, but I don’t.

  I totally don’t want her sloppy seconds, so the whole sharing business grosses me the fuck out but also reminds me of high school. It’s not like a packet of chips you can share, you freak; he is a guy, a human being, not a Ken doll you pass around.

  Calling me a slut, well, that was the last straw, and the most ridiculous part of her status. She doesn’t know me from a bar of soap, but because her so-called man couldn’t take his eyes off me at the club, I’m the slut.

  Well, I’ve got news for her—this is not going to end well.

  Like I said, I avoid confrontations, but I’ll happily put a blonde bimbo, judgmental hussy in her place if I have to.

  And somebody needs to put this bitch in her place!

  I crack my knuckles, thinking of what I can write; I don’t want to look cheap and petty but I’m not one to let sleeping dogs lie, it’s my personality.

  But come on, it’s not rocket science. If you aren’t exclusive with a guy, you have no right to dictate who they talk to. Don’t get your knickers in a knot, don’t get all demanding and stalkerish; it’s pathetic. You look like a five-year-old chucking a tantrum because you couldn’t have the blue pencil.

  My reply:

  I think it’s time you grew up and got over yourself, Stacey. Being a stalker is pathetic!

  Nobody wants your man; you can have him, if he even wants you …

  Plus, you will probably find half the city has already been there and done that!

  If a guy doesn’t want to be exclusive with you, have a good hard look in the mirror.

  It’s not him, it’s you …

  He’s obviously not that into you.

  He will announce it to the world if you are the one for him.

  Being fake and plastic isn’t exactly girlfriend material.

  Why would anyone want to take you home to meet Mummy and Daddy when you look like something from the Jerry Springer Show?

  ‘Cash me outside ho.’

  Boom!

  That’s how it’s done.

  I am laughing so hard as I hit reply. Damn, I’m good. I take a screenshot and send it to Roxy.

  In all seriousness, I’m still gobsmacked by her thinking she owns Rock. Some guys just aren’t boyfriend material. Rock can’t keep it in his pants. He likes to have variety in his life; that’s his choice, so why should he have to change for a girl?

  Well, sure, maybe one day “the one’ will come along and make him want to change, but I very much doubt it.

  Let’s see if it’s tit for tat and what her pathetic retaliation will be; I’ll be ready and waiting.

  This chick is the most obnoxious person I've ever met.

  She is ticking me off severely and pushing all my buttons.

  One more unexpected altercation, and I’ll put the bitch flat on her back.

  Good luck trying to tame him. Not to mention, attempting to change someone is not the best move. They end up resenting you.

  Chapter 18

  S.N.A.G - sensitive new-age guy

  The new guy who has started at work is a snag. It’s funny as we have never had a veterinary assistant who was male. It’s not usually what happens, but we have welcomed him with open arms.

  I swear I thought he was gay, but it turns out he is definitely not gay; he has been hitting on me something fierce.

  He is just too sensitive new-age guy for me, and I’m totally not interested. And it’s not even because of a certain guy whose name starts with D; it’s just a no-go zone.

  He wears collared shirts in pastel colours, for fuck’s sake. His pants are khaki; he accessorises with boat shoes and the matching belt. It’s all too matchy-matchy.

  I kinda feel like saying, “Hello, you won’t be getting any pussy the way you are dressing. We want testosterone; we wa
nt an alpha male.”

  I heard him talking about a few different brands he has purchased. What the hell? He knows too much about clothes and shoes.

  His name is Owen, and he just doesn’t have enough testosterone for me. I want a guy to be masculine, rugged, rough.

  Alpha male all the way.

  Caveman even … well, no, not disrespectful, just all man!

  I like it rough, a little on the bade side.

  But hey, Owen is great to work with. He knows his stuff, and I’ve told him I’m taken just to get him to back off. That way we can work together and forget the bullshit.

  ***

  Our next client brings in a diamond python. It’s a beauty. We are such a diverse veterinary clinic thanks to Tony and his high-level education.

  “This is Monty,” the lady announces as she hands the snake to Tony.

  “How old roughly do you think he is?” Tony questions.

  “Around two; we have had him since he was three months old,” the woman’s young son replies as Monty slithers through Tony’s hands.

  “Do you have any concerns?” he questions as it’s not every day you bring a snake to the vet—unless there is an issue.

  “He ate a rat two days ago, and it feels like it’s stuck here,” the boy tells us, pointing at the rigid bump halfway down the snake’s body.

  “You are a good-looking boy,” I declare as I rub along his scales. His colouring is common to diamonds, mainly black background with a mixture of cream and yellow spots along his body.

  Tony squeezes gently around the bump that’s visible, careful not to hurt or annoy Monty. Even though he’s not venomous, he could give a nice sized bite if he became aggressive.

  “It feels perfectly normal to me. Sometimes, their stomachs are slower at digesting. He looks happy enough and isn’t moving around slowly, so I’d say another day or two and it will be gone,” Tony tells them, and the boy smiles, happy that there is nothing wrong with his mate.

  “Thank God,” the mother states. “Tom has been worried sick.”

  “I’m glad you brought him in; it’s always better to be safe. Sometimes pythons can develop cancers, so I’d rather check the lump to be sure.”