Read Online Rug Burns (Reviving Haven Book 2) by Cory Cyr - Free Book Online

and I planned to savor the hundreds of varieties. Well, maybe not hundreds, but I thoroughly wanted to sample many. Now that I’d been introduced to actual sex, aka intercourse, I felt like I had more to offer.
    There were a few that wanted to date me, be with me in a relationship, and fuck me. I chose the latter. I didn’t need to be wined and dined. I had money and means. The men I chose didn’t have to prove themselves monetarily. I would never do a relationship; I lived by my own rules. Men regarded any repeat performance as thumbs-up for commitment. Ugh! That would never happen. I’d seen what it had done to other girls. The men thought they owned you and wanted full dominance. I enjoyed being on top—figuratively.
    I hadn’t had enough sexual experience yet to master diversity. I think most of my friends called it “vanilla” sex. In one of my books, they called it missionary. I was looking forward to the variety of positions listed in the Kama Sutra .
    Haven never came home that night. I crept into our small apartment about four thirty and she wasn’t in her bed. She’d spent the night with Eric. Wow. This was monumental. Maybe I should’ve hung a banner or bought a cake. Depending on which way it went. Ice cream, maybe a gallon just in case. There was no pain in the world that a bowl of icy, creamy goodness couldn’t fix. It had been months since I gave it up to Joey dickhead, and now my bestie was following in my footsteps. Well, at least I hoped she was.
    They say opposites attract. I guess that’s why Haven and I bonded. While I was a business major, she studied journalism. While I sucked actual cock, she read smutty romance books about sucking cock. Eventually, I wanted to move to Malibu or Beverly Hills and maybe do real estate. I didn’t have to work. My inheritance would kick in at twenty-one. But I didn’t enjoy being idle, so regardless, I wanted to work and get experience under my belt, to have my own business eventually.
    I could have lived off campus. I had viewed some nice condominiums. But Haven had made it clear she couldn’t afford anything that extravagant. She didn’t want to keep me from living more upscale, and she’d opted to find a new dorm mate. While the fifteen hundred square-foot plush condo had been calling my name, I settled on our tiny apartment on campus. It was what she could afford, and I had no problem sacrificing luxury, because I couldn’t imagine sharing my adventures with anyone else. She and I meshed. We disagreed on quite a few things, but somehow we worked.
    Haven finally came home at ten in the morning. It was a good thing it was the weekend because she looked “rode hard and put up wet.”
    “Please do not say a word,” she said with her head slumped.
    Seriously, there was no way I couldn’t say anything. “Is this your version of the walk of shame, or is it the drive of distress?” I said as I strolled into the kitchen to make some breakfast. “Want a waffle or a greasy egg sandwich?” I snorted because I could tell she was hung over. There was no chance in hell Eric pried her legs apart without the assistance of alcohol.
    She waved her hands in front of her face and then covered her mouth. “Jesus, I asked you not to speak. And if you start talking about food, there will be more than bloodstains on this carpet,” she whispered as a burp slipped out of her mouth.
    I bit back a chuckle. My BFF was a hung-over ex-virgin. She’d never had sex and she hardly ever drank. After three campus parties where she ended up praying to the porcelain god all night, now she was strictly a wine girl. I couldn’t wait to hear about last night with Eric. The suspense was killing me.
    “Okay, sweetie, you go take a nap, and when you get up, I’ll trade you some ginger ale for a blow-by-blow of last night’s event,” I quipped.
    “Ha-ha, there was no puff chore-ing last night,” she said as she headed toward her bedroom.
    “Tell me you were defiled and Eric