Read Online 31 Flavors of Kink by Leia Shaw & Cari Silverwood - Free Book Online Page A

had beer with dinner. I love that smell. His lips make their way down my jaw and behind my ear. I giggle and squirm. It wakens nerves, and my body tingles. I recognize the signs. This is working. Vanilla, here I come.
    I sigh and tilt my head. Taking the hint, he continues to move his mouth down, following the line of my throat. He’s warm and soft, and though nothing is stirring below, it still feels good.
    I start when his hand shoves under my bra to squeeze my breast. A small pit of dread starts in my belly. No! I squeeze my eyes and push it away. When his fingers graze my nipple, my body jerks. But not in arousal, in an attempt to get away. It gets worse when his other hand reaches my…pussy. I gulp, choking on the dirty word. Even that doesn’t make me feel like it did last night. Tears well in my eyes. What is wrong with me?
    I will my body to relax, to stay still under his ministrations. But each slight touch brings me closer and closer to panic. I can’t take any more. Placing both my hands on his chest, I push him off, then turn over and bury my face in the pillow. I don’t want him to see my tears. He’ll feel bad for me. I don’t want pity. I just want to be fixed!
    His discouraged sigh seems to echo in my ears. The tears come faster.
    His hand is warm on my shoulder. “Would handcuffs make it better?”
    I shake my head.
    “What’s wrong?”
    I suck, that’s what’s wrong. But I don’t answer.
    He tugs hard at my shoulder. “Talk to me.”
    My voice is muffled in the pillow. “I can’t have vanilla sex. And I can’t even do BDSM right!”
    “Who said that?”
    Finally I turn over to face him. I’m sure my face is blotchy and red, my eyes puffy, but I don’t care. I’m miserable and deserve to look ugly. Self-pity, thy name is Sidney. “The online group.”
    His eyes widen. “You talk about our sex life to strangers online?” He sounds angry.
    Oh crap. I guess I forgot to tell him that. “Anonymously,” I squeak.
    He sighs. “It’s not anonymous unless it’s from a different IP address.”
    Tear-stained cheeks, in the middle of a crisis—now is not the time for geek talk! “That’s not the point.”
    He sits up on the bed, crossing his legs. “Then what’s the point? Strangers don’t approve of our sex life?”
    I sit up and lean against the headboard. Fumbling with my hands, I’m unable to look him in the eye. “The point is, I’m a failure.”
    “A failure?” He still sounds angry, and I flinch. “This is the best sex I’ve ever had!”
    My gaze jumps to his face. Is he serious?
    His eyes soften, and he grabs my hands. “Look. We’re not vanilla. And that’s okay. But we don’t have to be rocky road either. Baskin-Robbins alone has thirty-one flavors. We can be a combination of flavors or even make up our own.” His hands squeeze mine. “And no one has the right to judge us. Okay?”
    I give him a small smile. The taste of guilt is still bitter in my mouth, but his assurance makes me feel a little better. Thirty-one flavors. There has to be something that fits even a messed-up misfit like me.
    I nod. “Okay.”
    * * * *
    For three days straight, Nick and I tease and flirt and find playful ways of doing just about anything. During Christmas shopping, he molests me with rolls of wrapping paper, swatting me with them when no one’s looking. One night, while I pour us drinks, I grab an ice cube and stick it down his pants. I earn a hard smack for that one.
    Then he grabs my hair and rasps in my ear, “Next time you do that, I’ll make you give me a blowjob until your lips go numb.”
    That threat has me frozen in place while Nick saunters away chuckling.
    The TV remote becomes a prize for the victor after a friendly wrestle that makes me descend into a fit of the giggles. Though I remember to shove it under the pillow this time and not my shirt. When Nick bites the back of my neck before retrieving the remote, I suffer a tiny meltdown and sink into the bed.
    It’s