They call me the walking dildo.
Something my mother would be proud of? Hell no!
Watching my best friend and my old friend-with-benefits blissfully walk down the aisle has just reiterated the fact that I’m thirty and perpetually single.
I thought I’d found the woman I wanted to spend my life with, you have to open your eyes to realize that it’s never gonna happen.
Funny how meeting the right person can finally make you see sense.
My name is Noah Taylor: kickass trauma surgeon, closet idealist, wishful thinker, and all round cocky asshole, and this is the year my life will change for the better.
“I got a text from Dan warning me that you might be a little drunk.”
“I’m a lot drunk, but that’s not the point. I’m not sure I can be with you anymore.”
He freezes mid step, and turns to face me at the same time as swinging my body around to meet his, chest to chest. “Say that again. I think you lost me.”
Because I’m drunk and although— in my mind — I’m telling myself that I deserve a lifetime of orgasms and I need to break up with him, I wind my arms around his neck and pull myself hard against him. His hands drop to my hips and hold me hostage as his eyes bore down into mine, obviously waiting for me to explain. “See, we got talking and Mac said she had to fake an orgasm with you, and I can’t live without orgasms. I like having orgasms. They’re fun and good for me, and they make me a very happy girl, so I need to have orgasms and if you’re just giving me your A game to lure me in and then you’re going to switch to your C or D game soon, which would suck—although Kate said the C game can be fun if you do it right . . . anyway, I need you to promise me a life full of lots and lots of orgasms or else I can’t go out with you anymore.”
Then I’m stopped by his lips hitting mine, his tongue delving into my mouth when it opens on a gasp of shock. He takes his time, he does the job right, and when he pulls back and nuzzles my neck, I’ve sagged against him and my hands are gripping into the back of his head as if my whole life depends on it.
“Are you going to start back up again, or do I need to put something in your mouth to stop you from spouting this shit?”
“It’s not shit. I need org—” He cups my jaw and kisses me long and deep, and with lots of effort on his part, and mine once I get past the shock of him shutting me up with his mouth for the second time in as many minutes.
An avid music fan, you will always find her with headphones on while writing, and the speakers blaring the rest of the time. She’s a wife, a mom to two beautiful girls, and when she’s not writing – she’s reading.
BJ resides with her family in what she considers the best country in the world—New Zealand. She describes her writing as a little swoon, a lot of heat, a bit of drama and a whole lot of love.