Earlier today I polled some of y'all about a sexy times scene I've been writing for one of my book projects. EVERYONE said I should spice it up.
So I did.
And here is the (much) spicier, smuttier version of the scene, plus a little of what comes before it, for reference. :) Check it out and let me know what you think!
“Ok, so tell me about Willa so I don’t Internet stalk every girl named Willa I can find while you’re gone all week,” she said.
That caught me off guard. I really didn’t want to tell Sophie anything about Willa, and definitely didn’t understand the compulsion to Internet stalk. “Well, what do you want to know?”
“Where she’s from, her age, what she’s like, whether or not you want to sleep with her. You know. Those sorts of things,” Sophie said in her machine gun style, but with a mischievous smile. It didn’t quite hide her insecurity.
“She lives in New York City. She’s our age. She’s, um . . .” The ‘what she’s like’ threw me off. I wanted to be honest, but I didn’t want to make Sophie feel any weirder about the situation. I realized I’d been quiet for about thirty seconds and Sophie was looking at me expectantly. Grasping for words that were diplomatic I said, “She’s loud. Opinionated. Very New York.”
That should do it.
“You didn’t answer the last part,” Sophie said, not letting me off the hook.
This one was going to be trickier to get out of. But in a stroke of genius that I can only attribute to my viewing of shows on The CW I automatically said, “Now why would I want to sleep with Willa when I have you?”
Sophie’s eyes lit up then and then she, quite literally, jumped on me. Her kisses were fierce and feverish. Her hands were under my shirt, moving down toward the band of my jeans. But instead of unbuttoning them, she slipped her hands underneath my jeans and boxers and ran her cool fingers across the sensitive skin near my hip bones.
I had to have her.
As if she could sense my impatience, she finally unbuttoned my jeans and shimmied them down my legs while I pulled my shirt off over my head. Sophie’s eyes met mine.
“Come here,” I said softly. Without a word, she obliged, straddling my hips and clasping her hands behind my neck.
“You’re still fully dressed,” I observed.
“Mhmm,” she purred.
“I don’t think that’s fair,” I countered before gently kissing her neck, just below her ear, and then working my lips down to her collarbone. She gave a little moan that only added fuel to my already blazing fire. I gruffly pulled her shirt off and ran my hands down the curvy sides of her body, undoing the button of her shorts. She responded by kissing me deeply and leaning forward, guiding my body back toward the bed.
Just as I was reaching into the drawer of my nightstand, I heard “Paper Planes.” I knew I shouldn’t answer the phone, but I really wanted to. I hesitated long enough that Sophie said, “Everything ok?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I said, grabbing a condom and then rolling back toward her on my bed. "More than fine actually." We started making out again, ignoring the fact that I was fumbling with the wrapper. When I finally got the damn thing open, “Paper Planes” emanated from my phone again.
I couldn’t help but grin—Willa was unknowingly cock-blocking me. At least, I hoped it was unknowingly. She couldn’t know I was about to have sex, right? It’s not like she was some sort of X-Man whose superpower was sensing lust. I mean, the only way that would come in handy is if Sophie were a succubus. But I think if she were, I’d know that by now.
©Bethany Larson, 2011