Stroked Hard by Meghan Quinn

Author:Meghan Quinn [Quinn, Meghan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Meghan Quinn
Published: 2016-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

MELONY

Hollis: Sorry about my phone call last night. Hope I didn’t wake you, just had a shitty sleep and it would have been nice to hear your voice.

Hollis: For future references, maybe you can change your voicemail so Mrs. Robot doesn’t tell me to leave a message but instead your beautiful voice does.

Hollis: I saw a cloud in the sky today that I swear looked like a penis going into a vagina. It made me think of you . . . you know, when you dry-humped me in your entryway.

Hollis: Remember the time I made you come just from touching your perfect little tit?

Hollis: I do. I can still hear your sexy moan. Now if only I knew how wet you were that night.

Hollis: Don’t want to talk about our sexual encounters? Okay, how about the time I pumped my cock in front of you. From the look in your eyes, I know you wanted your lips on my dick. Oh wait, was that sexual? Shit.

Hollis: I tripped over a barbell in the weight room today and fell face first into a stack of towels. I wished it was your breasts that caught me instead.

Hollis: Is it weird that I eat spinach and ketchup together?

Hollis: Did you watch Rollin’ in the Bacon last night? I didn’t but Holly keeps talking about how absurd Bellini is. I fear for your life. Please keep my baby safe.

Hollis: Silent treatment, I like it. Maybe I can silence you with my cock sometime soon.

Hollis: Don’t do relationships, huh? Why? What happened?

Hollis: My guess, someone hurt you and you’re too scared to put yourself out there again. Am I right?

Hollis: One thing you need to know about me, Melony, I’m the real thing. I don’t fuck around and I sure as shit don’t plan on ever leaving you alone, so you can either talk to me or we can continue to play this cat and mouse game. I know you like me, I know you want me, so it’s time we stop fucking around and we have a conversation.

It’s time we have a conversation . . .

Those words keep playing over and over in my head as my mom coos about what a great time she’s having being pampered. The nail salon we went to was having a special on manis and pedis. Kind of like a buy one get one free, so of course we indulged.

Because I’m a glutton for punishment, while my toes are being painted and finished up, I scroll through the countless texts Hollis has sent me over the last few days. I’ve read them over and over but never reply. Some of them make the cold exterior I’ve placed around my heart melt just slightly, and some turn me into a rabid beast needing release from the sexual frustration I’m feeling.

But the last ones . . . those terrify me.

He wants to have a conversation. I’m pretty sure I know how that’s going to go. He’s going to want to dig into my past and get to the root of my “problem.

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