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“I didn't think it would be so … squishy.” Adrianne wrinkles her nose and picks up Genevieve's new purchase, pinching it between her fingers before letting it sway in the air.

 

Genevieve tilts her head at the flesh-colored blob dangling from her girlfriend's fingertips.

 

“I think that's sort of the point?” Genevieve picks up the packaging for “Mr. Right, Realistic Packing Dildo” and shrugs. “I mean, it's supposed to look real, not like I'm walking around with a raging boner.”

 

“You're a raging boner,” Adrianne teases, tossing her the fake dick. It lands in Genevieve's waiting hands with an unfortunate slapping sound.

 

Genevieve shrugs and places Mr. Right, she'll never be able to get that name out of her head, on the coffee table before rummaging through the hot-pink bag at her feet.

 

“These'll be more up your alley.”

 

Genevieve pulls out the black cotton jockstrap that Jared had picked out and stretches the elastic between her fingers, raising her eyebrows at Adrianne.

 

“Oh you are so trying that on for me.” Adrianne snatches at it and holds it up for inspection. “Holy shit, your ass will look amazing in these.”

 

Genevieve smiles. That's exactly what Jared had said.

 

“I hope the Mooseketeer doesn't think he has sole rights to you in those little boy-panties.” Adrianne grins, that beaming, predatory smile that could eat someone alive. “Because there is no way I am not fucking you in a pair of assless panties, I don't care what they're for.”

 

She tosses the jock strap aside and crawls over to Genevieve, straddling her lap and backing her up until Genevieve's head lands on the couch.

 

“I think we can leave Mr. Right out of it, though.” Adrianne kisses her before wrinkling her nose at the flaccid cock listing to the right on Genevieve's coffee table. “Those are some distressingly realistic testicles.”

 

Genevieve kisses the smirk off her face, bringing her hands up to run them through the dark tangles of Adrianne's hair. Adrianne's always warm, a beacon of heat where Genevieve's always chilly, and Genevieve sighs as Adrianne presses against her, all hot long limbs and soft curves. Her sweatpants ride down around her hips, showing the tan skin of her stomach beneath the old, three-blessed-sizes-too-small t-shirt she'd stolen from Genevieve months ago. Genevieve tucks her hands into the waistband just as she hears the door creak open.

 

“Ruh-roh,” Adrianne giggles as Danneel sweeps into the room. Genevieve squeezes her eyes shut before turning to shoot her roommate a brilliant smile.

 

“At least you're both wearing pants.” Danneel sighs the sigh of a martyr and sets her shopping bags down. Her eyes widen as she looks at the coffee table.

 

“We need beer.”

 

*

 

Several beers later, Danneel has the high flush of a half-drunk redhead and Adrianne is laughing so hard Genevieve's sides hurt in sympathy. Genevieve sits cross-legged on the floor, while Adrianne drapes herself over the couch and toys with Genevieve's hair. Danneel occupies the overstuffed armchair across from them like a poorly-upholstered throne.

 

“Look, I'm just saying, I totally get liking dick.” She holds up a hand and points at herself. “Hello, president of the I heart dick club over here. I just don't get what Jared needs with a smooshy, you know, flopper thingy.”

 

Adrianne snorts again and Genevieve's cheeks burn.

 

“C'mon, Gen, spill. What does he even do with it? Is it like a cock-warming thing?”

 

“What's cock-warming? Do I want to know? Does it involve pee, because I just don't want to know if it does.” Adrianne leans forward, her beer dangling from her fingers. As is the case with most conversations involving male genitalia, she looks half-fascinated and half-horrified.

 

“No, it's a thing!” Danneel clears her throat and sits up straighter, always ready for an audience. “Jensen was telling me about it, it's when a guy, or I guess a girl, whatever, when they just keep someone's soft dick in their mouth. Like, all night.”

 

“Like to keep it warm.” Adrianne nods with understanding, taking a sip of her beer before narrowing her eyes. “Wouldn't you start drooling after a while?”

 

“Huh, I didn't think to ask about that.” Danneel looks thoughtful as she finishes off her Grolsch. Genevieve tries to make herself look small, which is pretty easy around Amazons one and two, hoping she's off the hook. Explaining her thing with Jared is just a little … tricky.

 

“So is Jared going to spend the night drooling all over your soft girl-dick?” Danneel turns the full force of her gaze on Genevieve. “I mean, no judgment, but I have to know.”

 

Genevieve laughs in spite of herself, imagining Jared and his flowing hair mouthing at Mr. Right.

 

“No, there's definitely no drool involved.” Genevieve rolls her eyes and bites her lip. “We're going out.” She shrugs and takes a sip of her beer, looking back and forth between them.

 

After a few seconds Danneel and Adrianne both roll their eyes and sigh simultaneously.

 

“Fine, keep your secrets.” Danneel stretches her legs out and pulls a hair tie off her wrist, coiling her hair up in a loose bun. “I'll just wrangle the truth out of Jensen next time we have girls' night.”

 

Adrianne leans down to nuzzle her nose against Genevieve's temple.

 

“You're gonna look great. He'd better appreciate it.” Adrianne plants a kiss on her cheek before gracefully hauling herself to the bathroom.

 

Genevieve draws her legs up and wraps her arms around her knees, letting her cheek rest against the couch.

 

“I still don't get how you two aren't a thing.” Danneel stretches her arms over her head and yawns. “You're so adorable together it makes me want to throw up in my mouth and buy you a cat or something.”

 

Genevieve isn't opposed to monogamy on principle. It's great for some people. She can't imagine Danneel sharing her takeout leftovers, let alone her partners. But Genevieve likes the open-ended, not-a-thing that she and Adrianne have going. Open is really the word for it. Blurred lines might scare most people but the confines of a relationship had always made Genevieve feel trapped.

 

“We're a thing.”

 

“You know what I mean.” Danneel scrunches her nose up.

 

“Hey, it works.” Genevieve shrugs and smiles at her roommate, trying to look enigmatic. Danneel throws her head back and laughs.

 

“I'll get more beer.”

 

*

 

Genevieve stands in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at herself in the clear space she'd wiped off with a towel. Her hair hangs limp around her shoulders, shining darkly in the bright lights around the vanity-style mirror. She tucks it back over her shoulders and stands up a little straighter.

 

It's not a chest-binder per se, but the Under Armour compression top she'd picked up at the Modell's uptown certainly squeezes her boobs tight enough to count. Genevieve likes her nipples but she's never felt her boobs were anything to write home about, the sort of B-cup-on-a-good-day that got the job done. Adrianne liked to tease her that more than a handful was a waste anyway, and her handfuls are smushed flat like a cheap stack of silver dollar pancakes at the greasy spoon diner near her old college.

 

Genevieve turns to the side, tilting her head to get a view of her profile. She doesn't look flat-chested, not quite, but under a few layers it would probably work. She lets her eyes skate lower, biting her lip to repress a laugh.

 

Mr. Right nestles comfortably in his cotton pouch, giving her a surprisingly generous bulge beneath her jock strap. As is generally the case concerning Genevieve's ass, Adrianne was right. It looks adorable.

 

Genevieve turns back to the mirror, cocking one hip forward and cupping her hand over her borrowed junk. She purses her lips and does a passable Mick Jagger, aiming for cocky and landing somewhere a little left of dancing robot. Hopefully a cute dancing robot. She wants Jared to like it.

 

Jared Padalecki is the kind of mile-high sex god Genevieve would never, ever make a pass at. Not that she doesn't like men, in their many and myriad forms, but her type tended to be more “starving artist” than “overgrown quarterback male model.” Genevieve had learned young that the better-looking someone was, the less they had to work to impress everyone. She'd brought one GQ-worthy guy back to her room in her sophomore year, some Swedish exchange student, and he'd laid on her bed with his arms behind his head, head cocked to the side and an expression that crossed all cultural barriers to scream, “It's not gonna suck itself.” He was right, it didn't.

 

Jared's the kind of guy who can get anything he wants with a wink and a smile. Genevieve had seen the way every man, woman and domestic animal at Lauren's birthday party had swooned over him and promptly written him off as “too gorgeous to give head,” a deal breaker if ever there was one. And based on Lauren's resigned sigh and fierce look of burning hatred at Jensen, Genevieve has assumed he wasn't into women anyway.

 

It had taken two hours and a startlingly graphic discussion about glory holes before Genevieve had even realized Jared was hitting on her.

 

“Oh come on, like you wouldn't do it.” Jared had leaned in, eyebrow hitched to conspiratorial heights before his hair fell over it.

 

“First, no. You couldn't pay me enough money to, like, mash my pussy through a bathroom wall.” She'd wrinkled her nose because seriously, unappealing. “I don't even know how that would work. I think it's one of those have-to-have-a-dick-things.”

 

They'd laughed, the sort of heaving, snorting thing that threatened imminent incontinence and immediate need for more beer.

 

“Not that I don't have plenty of cocks, thank you very much.” She'd smiled primly. “I have twelve of them in a drawer by my bed, all lined up like that, one, two, three...” She'd pointed her finger and done her best Nora Charles impression, although references to the Thin Man were generally lost on the general public.

 

“I'll have the waiter bring me eleven more,” Jared had smirked, and Genevieve's stomach had flipped a little. Because of beer, obviously.

 

“I bet you look good like that.” Jared had leaned in, his arm braced against a wall as he ducked his head down. Genevieve's skin had flushed when he looked up from under his hair, which was just too pretty and made-for-fingers to be real.

 

“In a bouclé suit?” She'd joked, weakly, feeling her lips tingle as Jared's mouth curled back into a soft, hungry sort of smile.

 

“With a dick.”

 

Genevieve hadn't known what her three favorite words were until then, because the way Jared said them had made her mouth run dry and her skin prickle and her pussy throb against the seam of her jeans.

 

“That's, uh, that's what all the ladies say.” She'd shifted as he leaned in closer, feeling herself rub wet as she licked her lips and looked up at him. Humor had always been her refuge and she felt the first ebb of hysterical laughter inching in around her, because Cover Boy was swallowing coarsely and giving her the most shameless set of sex eyes she'd ever seen.

 

“What do the guys say?” He'd licked over his lips, just a slip of pink but it hit Genevieve like a jolt, tilting her head back and parting her lips.

 

“No complaints.”

 

She'd dragged Jared home and fucked him in the ass three times that night. They'd spent the morning in bed with some very sore thigh muscles and the sort of over-fucked, screaming giddy orgasms that made Danneel tease her for days. Apparently Jared had never gotten the memo that he was too handsome to eat pussy.

 

Genevieve smiles at herself in the mirror. Jared's new and he's exciting, and it scares her. The good sort of scare that makes her stand up a little taller and grab her comb with purpose.

 

As far as Genevieve can tell, Jared's two biggest hobbies in life are rescuing dogs and trying new things in bed. He's getting his Masters in Public Health and paying his way with coffee shop shifts and some sort of “bartending-esque” gig that she definitely needs to know more about. Their past few not-dates had all ended up at sex toy shops, where Jared seemed to know every employee on a first-name basis, not to mention the name and health-status of their pets.

 

Genevieve combs through her damp hair, pulling most of it back except for a few layers that frame her face. She gives her bangs a quick run-through before weaving her fingers through her hair. It's too thick to stay in place with just a ponytail, so she plaits it into two neat french braids. She pins the ends up and nods. It'll work.

 

She's glad to have the house to herself tonight. She walks to her bedroom, adjusting her gait as she gets used to the extra real estate between her legs. She finds herself adjusting it several times as she pulls out her clothes and lays them on the bed. At first she thinks it's too often before reminding herself that guys do, in fact, touch their own junk constantly.

 

She tries on three pairs of jeans before settling on a pair that hang lower on her hips without being too baggy. She slips on a ribbed tank top and laces up an old pair of Converse. She's not used to leaving without a purse so it takes her a minute to make sure she has all her necessities squirreled away in her pockets.

 

Genevieve pauses by the oversize mirror by the door. She fishes through the stylish, recycled basket full of hats perched on top of the refurbished armoire (so Danneel) and pulls out one of Danneel's oversized beanies. It covers Genevieve's braids perfectly, and falls low enough over her ears that just a few locks of hair stick out past her bangs.

 

Genevieve turns in the mirror, adjusting her hat before shrugging on an old, faded-black hoodie. She looks like the missing member of some 90s boy-band, sans some gold chains around her neck. She pulls her shoulders back and widens her stance a little, mesmerized by the sloping bulge in her crotch.

 

She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and snaps a selfie in the mirror. Adrianne replies almost immediately.

 

Hottie! Your'e making me question my gold star lesbo status.

 

Genevieve laughs and replies with a simple ;P. Adrianne replies with their usual statement before one of them goes out with someone else.

 

Have fun and tell me everything.

 

Genevieve stands up a little straighter with the familiar reassurance. She looks down at Mr. Right, jutting her hips out and squaring her palms over her waist.

 

“It's not gonna suck itself.”

 

Genevieve grabs her keys and leaves with a grin on her face.

 

*

 

Gen leans back against the bar, the worn wood pressing into her elbows. Her hoodie is probably saving her from a world of sticky if the suspiciously shiny surface of the bar is any indicator, but Genevieve probably wouldn't notice if the bar was covered in rusty nails at this point.

 

Not when Jared's pressed up against her side like that.

 

“And see that guy, in the red shirt?”

 

Jared's lips brush against her ear as she nods, warm even against the two-drink flush of her skin.

 

“All he can think about is how much he wants to suck your dick.”

 

Jared grew up in Texas, not a place Genevieve feels any great fondness for, but God bless America and that rich, slow drawl he puts on. It curls down her neck and settles somewhere at the base of her spine, just beneath the jock strap that he's been tracing his fingers over since they got here.

 

“See, he keeps licking his lips.” Jared clicks his tongue as red-shirt does just that, throwing a furtive glance at the two of them before glancing faux-casual around the bar.

 

“Poor guy.” Jared shakes his head and runs his lips down the slope of Genevieve's cheekbone, drawing her into a lazy kiss that tastes like cheap beer and stubble. Red-shirt watches them and Genevieve shivers, catching his eye as Jared wraps his hand around her waist.

 

Genevieve isn't the attention-seeking type. She likes being appreciated as much as the next person, but she doesn't need it the way Danneel does. And Genevieve was usually in the company of Danneel. Lauren or Adrianne, and she was about ten inches below general eye level at that point anyway.

 

It's not like everyone's looking at her, not really. Jared attracts attention when he's doing laundry, let alone strutting around a bar daring everyone not to watch him make out with his date. Genevieve is used to envious stares from men and women alike when Adrianne gets handsy, but this is different.

 

Genevieve has a secret. It's thrilling, more so than she'd imagined when Jared had bed-whispered this whole scenario. She'd been on board just for the novelty of being someone's boy for the night, dressing in drag like a skin she could shed easily the next morning. This was supposed to be Jared's “thing I've never tried,” but Genevieve could get used to the cock-hungry stares that have followed her and Jared all night.

 

“And that one,” Jared pulls back, leaving her a little dizzy, lips wet and warm. He nods his chin towards a guy Genevieve could easily nickname Hot Daddy Lumberjack.

 

“He's not thinking about your dick.” Jared cups his hand over her crotch, and her hips jut forward while he smiles.

 

“He wants to fuck your ass.” Again with the drawl, the way the words trip lazily off his tongue.

 

“How, uh, how do you know?” Snark is next to impossible with Jared, not when he's grinding the heel of his hand against her crotch just hard enough to make her feel twitchy. There's too much silicone and cotton in the way and it's starting to make her feel crazy.

 

“Because I'm going to.” Jared raises an eyebrow as Genevieve grips the bar a little tighter. “And he's the kind of motherfucker who only wants what he can't have.”

 

Keeping one hand cupped over her bulge, Jared slides his other hand down the front of her jeans.

 

“You're my boy tonight, Gen.” Jared inches his fingers down the elastic of her jock strap, pushing it aside to tease at the hood of her clit.

 

“They all want you.” He brackets her with his legs, his long thigh obscuring a good view to the many interested bar patrons. Here in the dimly-lit corner of the bar and Jared's shadow, it looks like he's jerking her off in her jeans. She bites her lip.

 

“God, pretty little twink like you.” Jared skates past her clit, running his thumb down her lips. His eyes narrow as he catches on her slickness.

 

“They're all wondering what a tight fucking ass you've got.” Jared presses his thumb over her clit with such confidence Genevieve dimly wonders if he's hiding one of his own somewhere, before Jared snakes his tongue under the curve of her jaw and she just moans. Jared could suck the sass out of Miss Piggy.

 

“They all want to fuck you, Gen.” He circles his thumb, slow and steady while she bucks up into his hand. “They'd be happy just to watch me do it.”

 

Genevieve feels strung out already, the sort of heady high of a too-hot bar and the heat of Jared's undivided attention. His lips ghost over her skin, leaving her shivering and flexing her jaw. There are beads of sweat dotting her neck that don't deter him at all, if anything they seem to spur him on to graze his teeth against her skin and her knees feel weak. At least she's got a solid bar and six and a half feet of corn-fed cocktease to hold her up.

 

“You want me to stop?” Jared doesn't do anything of the sort, picking his pace up and smiling against her ear. She tries for the sort of “no” that can audibly translate to an encouraging kick to the nads and chokes half-way through it.

 

Two months ago, Adrianne had treated half of Genevieve's workmates to a vivid description of the many forms of female orgasm. Screamers, laughers, squirters, biters, hair-pullers, each one acted out with Adrianne's usual over the top demonstrations. Adrianne is a kicker and a laugher.

 

Genevieve's a head-tosser.

 

She throws her head back, shoulders arching up as her body goes perfect-rigid and she comes. She bites her lip as hard as she can stand to keep marginally quiet, not that everyone in the bar doesn't know what's happening. She's surprised at how much it thrills her.

 

Jared crouches over her until she's done, his big shoulders bent down towards her like a willow tree. She turns into his neck, squeezing her eyes shut as the last shock ripples through her. She's done playing.

 

“Take me home.” She should get her voice to sound that hoarse and commanding more often. It sounds good and Jared almost trips as he tilts off his bar stool.

 

Genevieve's too busy stumbling backwards and dragging her fingertips over Jared's obvious hard-on to give a shit about the envious stares that follow them out onto the street.

 

*

 

Jared's apartment is up three flights of rickety stairs, which is about four flights too many for Genevieve. Their cab ride had been the best kind of torture, although Jared had staunchly kept his dick in his pants despite Genevieve's deftest attempts to liberate it.

 

She stops on the second landing and sighs dramatically, grabbing Jared's belt and trailing behind him like a reluctant sled dog. He tows her, laughing and grunting with feigned effort, until they hit the next set of stairs. He spins to face her, kissing her hard and Genevieve has already made complete peace with fucking Jared in his stairwell when he plants his hands on her waist and hefts her up.

 

He slings her over his shoulder like a gender-ambiguous sack of potatoes, giving her a good slap on the ass as he dashes up the final flight. She jiggles over him, beating her fists weakly against his back and laughing hysterically. She should feel bad for the neighbors but Jared's key clicks into the door and all she can think about is getting him inside. And not hitting her head on the door frame.

 

Jared lives alone through some combination of alchemy and rent control, which is a blessing Genevieve is very grateful for as she starts pulling his jacket off before she even hits the floor. He's not housing any strays at the moment, so they're all alone as he sets her squarely down and tugs his t-shirt off neck-first, one of those uniquely male habits that Genevieve will never really understand. His hair sticks out at a weird angle and Genevieve laughs before reaching up to smooth it out. Jared's too pretty to stand there shirtless with his hair sticking up like some cow-licked guinea pig.

 

“You look so fucking hot.” He turns his face as she fixes his hair, letting his lips push the sleeve of her sweatshirt up. He kisses her wrist, softly, with his eyes closed, and Genevieve's whole body tingles with the sudden awareness that she is wearing way too much clothing right now.

 

Danneel's hat lands somewhere on the floor next to Genevieve's shoes and her sweatshirt. Jared kisses down her neck, trailing his fingers over her tank top as he sinks to his knees. He undoes her fly slowly, peeling it open as he kisses across her stomach.

 

Her jeans pool around her ankles and she steps out of them, feeling coltish in the light of Jared's rapt upward stare. She reaches for her panties out of habit, stopping as her fingertips hit the elastic and she blushes suddenly, remembering.

 

Jared doesn't look like he forgot.

 

His nose trails along the seam of her thigh, her borrowed bulge brushing against his cheek. His hand cups over her ass, big enough to cover half of it as he squeezes. He looks up and parts his lips, breathing hot against her crotch and wow. It's weird, it's not like she can feel it, except as a jaw-twitching hint of pressure on her aching pussy, but it's hot. Like, sort of dizzy, grabbing Jared's shoulder half for support and half to make sure he keeps doing it hot.

 

She can feel herself soaking into the cotton gusset of her jockstrap as Jared presses his face against her, and noticing that he's grinding his palm against himself while he does it definitely doesn't help.

 

“That's it.” Genevieve shakes her head and laces her fingers into Jared's hair, undoing all her work as she pulls him back up.

 

“You need to fuck me.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Jared nods, looking like he's not quite sure how his knees work as he stands up wobbly and wide-eyed. His skin bleeds warm against her as she pulls him down for a kiss, his lips already hot and swollen from dragging over cotton. She undoes his fly a little more roughly than she'd intended but it just makes Jared growl softly, which is a wonderful, wonderful sound.

 

They stumble back to Jared's bedroom, which is small and sparse except for the king-sized mattress piled with pillows and a kaleidoscope of mismatched blankets. Christmas lights snake around the bare windowsills and shine off of Jared's smile as he leans into her.

 

“My perfect boy.” Jared kisses her, letting his tongue trail slowly over her teeth before he grins into her mouth and spins her around.

 

“Perfect fucking ass,” he whispers, leaning down to nuzzle at her neck as his cock presses hard against her ass. He rocks into her as he closes his hand over her package, rutting against her and breathing hot on her skin and fuck, this is the closest she'll probably ever come to being electrocuted. It's a testament to her braiding skills that her hair isn't standing on end.

 

“Gonna lick him open, fuck my boy till he comes.”

 

Genevieve has never gotten on a bed so fast in her life. Jared lays over her, his full weight pressing her chest against the bed as he grinds against her. She can feel the wet spot on his boxers dragging against her skin and at least that makes two of them.

 

“Tell me what you want, Gen.” Jared's hand splays across her hip, holding her as he drags his dick right over the smooth elastic of her jock. “What does my boy want?” She can hear the fox-eyed grin in his voice and now he's just teasing.

 

“If you don't stop teasing I'm gonna fuck myself in the ass.” Her breath hitches half-way through it but Genevieve is still satisfied as Jared chuckles against her.

 

“Greedy boy,” Jared chuffs, licking a stripe up her neck before digging a hand into each of her thighs and spreading her legs wide. She lets her hips tilt up as her cheek nestles against a pillow, giving it a silent apology. There's no way she's not drooling on that thing at least a little bit.

 

Jared's done teasing now, thank whatever God is benevolently observing Genevieve's irregular sex life. He flicks his tongue right into hot skin and she's clenching the sheets in a matter of minutes. Jared does this flick-roll-fireworks thing with his tongue that should be illegal. When she's compos mentis and fully verbal she's prying his technique out of him.

 

Genevieve believes in planning ahead, so a good portion of her private lady time that morning had involved her favorite vibrating toy in her ass. Not like that was ever a bad way to start the day, but she's happy for her foresight as she opens easily to Jared's tongue and his slick, gentle fingers. The soft pressure of the packing toy against her clit as she rubs against the mattress doesn't hurt, either.

 

“Do it, Jared, fuck,” Genevieve moans when he's got her open on three fingers and her pussy's soaked. Jared tears a condom open with his teeth as she looks back at him, canting her hips at the best angle as he smears way too much lube on his cock.

 

He presses into her and all jokes aside, Jared's not a small guy. It doesn't hurt so much as just feel weird as fuck, too full for a breathless minute before it isn't. Bless him, there really is no such thing as too much lube.

 

He stays perfectly still, seated and waiting for her and this is her favorite part sometimes, this full, heavy pause before she says go. Everything feels tight and vibrant and strung with lights, Jared's breath hot and steady against her back and the warm pulse of her body as she relaxes. She shifts her hips, moving him a few experimental inches before bracing herself up on her elbows and giving him a look.

 

Jared starts slow and deep, drawing her closer as he curls around her and wraps his hands over her shoulders. She moves into him as he speeds up, arching her back and grinning as one of her braids starts to slip free from its pins. Genevieve has never been a large person and one of her greatest pet peeves is partners who treat her like she's made of glass just because she's small.

 

Jared seems to have no problem fucking her in earnest.

 

The bed shakes beneath them and Genevieve knows she's probably smiling like a maniac with half a braid plastered to her face. It's fantastic and Genevieve groans out a long, “No!” when Jared starts to slow down.

 

“I want you to come.”

 

That and “Fire!” are pretty much the only good reasons Genevieve can think of for Jared to cut his pace. She nods and slips her hand into her jock strap, grinning blearily at how wet she is as her fingers part her lips and slide over the throbbing heat of her clit.

 

Jared circles his hips, deep and full inside her as he whispers urging nonsense in her ear. Yeah, good boy, just like that, it all sort of drowns out around the hum in her ears as she works her clit and feels her toes start to tingle.

 

The sounds she makes as she seizes up and feels that first gate-crash of sensation are quickly drowned out by Jared's strangled cursing.

 

“Fuck, fuck,” he barks, and she's still too hazy to do much more than hold on as he starts to move erratically. She can feel herself clenching down around him and he groans with each shudder of her body.

 

Adrianne's index of orgasms is limited to the fairer sex but Genevieve has a list of her own, and she closes her eyes to enjoy it as Jared comes.

 

Jared's a growler.

 

He paws at her shoulders, fingers digging in to pull her back onto him until she can feel him rumbling against her. They slide together, her tank top soaked with sweat as they both heave for breath. Jared tosses the condom into the wastebasket by the door and settles against her back, his hair flopping forward to tickle against her cheek.

 

It's comfortable and easy, this post-coital spooning with Jared. Genevieve can't imagine anyone not feeling comfortable in Jared's presence, and she lets herself drowse in the quiet twilight of his arms for a while. She stirs when he finally gets up, returning with a glass of water.

 

Genevieve sits up and takes a sip, cracking her neck and stretching her arms. She undoes her braids while Jared watches her quietly.

 

“So,” she says as she shakes her hair out, letting it tumble over her shoulders. “Was I a good boy?” She bats her eyelashes as Jared's face lights up into that sweet, pink smile.

 

“Mm-hmm,” he hums, setting the glass down on the floor and knee-walking across the bed. “You were perfect.”

 

He carefully teases off her tank top and undershirt, losing them in the mass of sheets before trailing his fingers down to her jock strap. She'd forgotten she was wearing it, and seriously, she owes this company a five-star review when she got home.

 

Jared slowly tugs it down, rolling the elastic over her hips as she arches up. He tosses it aside and they both laugh as it hits the mattress with a weighted thud. Jared brushes his thumb over one of her nipples and gives her a look that promises little sleep.

 

“Now I want to be a good boy,” Jared murmurs, kissing over the pinked indentations on her skin left behind by her too-tight tank top. “And eat your pussy for the rest of the night.”

 

Genevieve lies back and closes her eyes, smiling as Jared traces a trail of kisses up her thigh.

 

*

 

Danneel is away at either a yoga retreat or a wine-tasting weekend, Genevieve can't really remember. Either way, it's a good morning for her to take care of chores that Danneel doesn't need to witness.

 

She's pulling Mr. Right out of his sterilizing pot of boiling water when her doorbell rings. She buzzes Adrianne in and leaves the door cracked open before fishing the other sex toys out and laying them on a towel to dry.

 

“Parboiling your lady-peen?” Adrianne dumps her purse on the couch before arching an eyebrow at the mini Babeland steaming on Danneel's reclaimed-wood kitchen counter. What Danneel didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

 

“Safety first,” Genevieve intones as Adrianne settles behind her, pulling her in for a hug and a head-turned kiss. “You don't know where I've been.”

 

Adrianne laughs and leans back against the sink.

 

“I know exactly where you've been.” She waggles her eyebrows, a move only Adrianne could pull off as sexy. “And I think I owe Jared a thank-you card.”

 

Genevieve's night with Jared had left her with a renewed enthusiasm for rimming. Lauren had asked them once how they dealt with seeing other people and Adrianne had blithely responded that Genevieve always came back with a new trick up her sleeve.

 

“I think I'm gonna see him again next week.” Genevieve grabs a big bag of tortilla chips and a container of Trader Joe's salsa. New-found ass enthusiasm aside, the only thing on Genevieve's docket of shit to do this evening is cuddle Adrianne in her sweatpants and watch a Lost Girl marathon.

 

“You going on a date?” Adrianne obligingly fishes two beers out of the fridge and follows Genevieve to the living room.

 

“More like meeting him after he gets off his shift at the possibly-strip-club bar.” Genevieve settles on her usual spot on the couch, leaning against the armrest. “I'm going to investigate.”

 

“He's already in the booty zone?” Adrianne settles down next to her, handing her a beer and pulling Genevieve's legs onto her lap.

 

“I think he prefers 'friend with well-endowed benefits' zone.” Genevieve takes a sip of her beer. It hadn't surprised her that she and Jared had been simpatico about remaining friends. She liked his easy company and spontaneity too much to complicate it, and she could see that spontaneity turning into a little more drama than she was used to.

 

Adrianne shrugs and sips her beer.

 

“Cool.” She grabs the remote and starts Netflix. Genevieve leans back against the couch and stares at the red screen, smiling. She's got chips and salsa and a gorgeous girl on her couch who might be talked into rubbing her feet. She's got a lot to smile about.

 

“But don't think you're getting out of wearing that jock strap for me.”

 

Genevieve laughs and nudges her foot into Adrianne's hand. Life is good.