If I Could Do It Again (8 page)

“Yes!” I nearly scream the word at him. “Yes, please … Please don’t stop. I’m close. So close.”

He chuckles softly, a sexy, throaty sound. “I smack your ass nice and hard as I pull my cock out and slam it back in. I reach around and start rubbing your clit, pinching it between my fingers. As your pussy muscles spasm around my cock, I start fucking you harder, flicking your clit with my finger. Your legs start to shake, my dick starts to twitch deep inside you, and you look back at me, telling me to fill your pussy with my come. It turns me on so fucking much that my balls begin to lift. Your pussy starts to tighten around my cock, and then you moan, legs shaking as you come, making my cock harden and shoot warm come deep inside you.”

My heart races faster than before, my body growing taut. I can feel it coming, the pressure building and building, and then, the pleasure. It sweeps through me, setting off bursts and sparks throughout my entire body. I cry out, feeling myself convulse around the vibrator, my eyes squeezing shut.

“Who do you belong to?” he asks, his voice slightly strained as though he’s out of breath.

I don’t think, surprising myself as the answer naturally flies out of my mouth as though I’ve said it a million times before. “You.”

“Tell me,” he demands. “I want to hear you say it.”

My voice is a little more than a shaky breath as I say, “I belong to you.”

“Good answer, baby girl,” he says, sounding pleased. “You know you’re my number one bitch, right?”

I blink. Did he just call me a bitch? I laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“I swear, beautiful,” he says, amused, “it’s a good thing.”

“Okay,” I say, grinning into the phone. “But I just have one question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Who’s your number two bitch?”

My question makes him laugh—hard. “There’s no one else but you. Pick a date, baby. I really want to see you.”

“Okay.”

When the call ends, I’m smiling again. Smiling and excited and I shoot off a text to Richard.

ME: I’d like to go to Pennsylvania to meet Joshua. I’ll let you know when.

My cellphone pings for the second time. Sighing, I set down the ten-pound dumbbells and pick up the phone from the windowsill, taking a look. It’s a text from Richard.

RICHARD: I got your message and I’ve been thinking … You should go to Pennsylvania and meet your convict in person. I bet meeting him in person will get him out of your system.

He wants me to go to Pennsylvania?

I blink at the screen, confused, not sure how to respond. I’m too exhausted, too distracted by my shaky, burning legs to really comprehend the message.

“Babe, put that phone down,” Becca grunts, and my eyes fly to her as she squats for what has to be the hundredth time. She’s a goddamn squatting machine, holding nearly triple the weight as me, and barely breaking out in a sweat. “We’re almost done. If you break too long, I swear I’ll make you start again.”

Groaning, I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure if I squat one more time, I won’t come back up.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She laughs. “You’ve got this, now put the phone down and pick up those weights.”

My phone buzzes again. I frown as a new message pops up on the screen, another text from Richard.

RICHARD: If nothing else, I’m certain that once he sees you in person, you’ll be out of his system. You should book a hotel.

I read the message, and then I read it again.

Once he sees you in person …

My chest tightens, and so does my grip on the phone.
Asshole.
I’ve been working so hard—so goddamn hard—to lose weight, and I have. I’ve lost a ton of it, trying to make him see me as beautiful again, and he still doesn’t see it.

He probably never will.

I’m not really sure he ever did.

I don’t even know why I bother trying anymore, a habit I guess. And maybe, just maybe I want him to see me, really see me just once before I walk out the door.

Weights clatter to the floor behind me, and then Becca is there, her chin on my shoulder and sweaty chest against my back, peeking at my phone.

“Damn it, Becca,” I say, shrugging her chin off my shoulder. “Get your nasty sweat covered body away from me.”

She laughs and wraps her arms around my waist, hugging me tight. “Not until you pick up those …” her voice trails off, her laughter abruptly stopping. “He’s a horse’s ass.”

I turn my head to see her expression. She’s frowning, long lines wrinkling her forehead, her eyes glued to my phone.

“Yeah,” I agree, “he kind of is.”

Silence falls.

Five, ten, fifteen seconds pass.

“Uh, Becca?” My voice is shaky, my eyes stinging.

Her arms tighten around me. “Yeah, babe?”

I glance away from her, my eyes scanning over the thousands of dollars’ worth of exercise equipment filling my basement. Treadmill, elliptical, stair climber. There’s a weight bench, dumbbells, and curling and deadlift bars. Yoga and pilates mats fill a quarter of the room. I bought it all, setting up a full service home gym and busting my ass daily for months, just to make Richard happy.

“Do I really look that bad?” I ask.

“Oh, honey, of course not. You look amazing.”

“I’m overweight.”

“You’ve lost thirty-two pounds.”

“I need to lose another forty.”

Becca snorts. “No you don’t.”

“The medical charts say I should be one-hundred and thirty pounds, and Richard thinks …”

“Who gives a shit what Richard thinks,” she says, cutting me off, and squeezing me tighter still. “You’ve got nice thick thighs, a big round butt. And your boobs are the perfect size, big enough to be noticed, but not so big they take away from those sexy eyes and full lips. You’re gorgeous.”

Taking a deep calming breath, I wiggle out of her arms, setting my phone back down, and I pick up my weights. “Forty-three more, right?”

Becca doesn’t answer my question; instead, she gives me a look that’s both fury and sadness. “Today, I’m going to make you feel sexy,” she declares, her voice hinting at the emotions painting her face. “Promise.”

****

When Becca said she was going to make me feel sexy, I never imagined this was what she had in mind. But as I stand here, staring at the walls of vibrators and dildos, I realize that she wasn’t kidding around. She’s going to make me feel sexy and she brought me to a sex toy store to do it.

I don’t know how to react, standing here in skinny jeans and a bright pink spaghetti strapped tank, my eyes taking in all the toys. I’d rather be anywhere but here. They make me feel overwhelmed and a little on edge. The truth is, I’ve only ever been to one of these stores once before, and I didn’t dawdle, picking up the first vibrator I saw, paid, and got out.

I turn, spotting Becca across the store, sorting through racks of costumes. She waves a hand, beckoning me over, but I’m not about to go to her. If I do, I’m pretty sure she’ll have me trying on that sexy nurse’s outfit she’s holding up. By the look of it, there’s no way I’d get that skirt over my ass.

When I turn back to the wall of toys, a woman is standing there. Short and blonde, with big hips and a tiny waist, wearing a light blue lacey miniskirt that just covers her ass, a skintight white tee, and flip-flops. She’s smiling at me, a smile that’s so warm and contagious that I find myself smiling back.

“What’s in your toy box?” she asks, her voice all smooth and silky.

My toy box?

My smile falters. I don’t know how to answer that. “Um … what?”

“Your toy box,” she says, smiling as she waves a hand toward a display of purple vibrators. “What’s in it?”

“Oh …” I stall, heat rushing to my cheeks as it dawns on me what exactly she’s asking. I duck my head, glancing down. “I don’t really have one.”

She stares at me.

And stares at me.

And then, she stares some more.

“You don’t have a vibrator or a dildo or an anal plug or a …”

My skin flares with heat as I hold up a hand, stopping her short. “I have a beaded vibrator and a bullet.”

“That’s it?” she asks, surprised. “Really?”

My cheeks heat further. “Yes, really.”

“She’s been missing out, Stacey,” Becca calls, the laughter in her voice carrying from across the store. “I’m thinking she needs some anal toys and that new vibrator. You know, the one with the triple tongues?”

Anal toys?

Triple tongues?

Oh God.

“You got it, Becs.” The blonde—Stacey—giggles, excited, as she grabs a hold of my arm and leads me over to the purple display. She grabs a vibrator, turning it on and grinning at me. “You’re going to love this one, sweetie.”

Awkwardly, I take the vibrator, feeling the powerful vibrations against my hand. My eyes widen in surprise. “Wow.”

“I know, right?” she says. “And check out the clitoris stimulator, see the tongues? They all move individually, no matter the speed setting.”

Holy crap, triple tongues!

Before I know what’s happening, Stacey snags up a basket and pulls me from wall to wall, display to display, filling it with more toys than I know what to do with. There’s vibrators, dildos, an egg, beads, and plugs. She even adds in a panty vibrator, before moving on to the lubes and toy cleaners.

It’s probably only been a few minutes, but it feels like an eternity before Becca makes her way over, smiling. She picks up a bottle of cleaner and a package of wipes, tossing them into the basket and surveying the contents, nodding approvingly. “Nice choices,” she says to me, before turning to Stacey. “I’m going to steal her now.”

Stacey smiles politely, gathering up a few more bottles of God only knows what, before turning away, taking the loaded basket to the counter.

“This is not making me feel sexy, Becca,” I hiss. “This is making me feel awkward.”

“It’s not supposed to.” She grins, grabbing my arm and pulling me over to the fitting room, pausing right outside the door, and pushing it open. “But this will.”

I glance inside the small room, gaping. Becca has accumulated over a dozen outfits she wants me to try on, ranging from costumes to corsets to see-through body stockings.

Her hand lands on the small of my back, pushing me inside. I’m flustered, blinking a few times, as she pulls the door closed.

“Try something on,” she says. “Then, come out here and let me and Stacy see it.”

“Becca …”

I start to protest, but she doesn’t let me. “Vickie, trust me. You’ll feel like a sex goddess when we’re done.”

My brows furrow. I most definitely don’t think a few see through outfits are going to make me feel anything close to a sex goddess, but I humor her, stepping over to the outfits and sorting through them.

Most of them are way too revealing, but I notice that every single one will cover my belly. God love my best friend; she chose things that’ll hide the spots I hate the most. I pick up the most conservative one first: the nurses outfit.

Getting to work putting it on, I struggle zipping up the back. I step out of the fitting room, wearing the costume, not bothering to look at myself in the mirror first, finding Becca standing right outside the door with her cellphone out.

“Can you zip me up, Becca?” I ask, starting to turn around so my back is to her, but she holds up her hands to stop me.

“Pull it off your shoulder a little,” she says, and when I don’t comply, only looking at her as though she’s insane, she does it for me, tugging the white fabric down, baring my shoulder. She reaches up, pulling out my ponytail holder and mussing up my hair, and then takes two steps back, smiling. “Perfect.”

And then she raises her phone and snaps a picture.

She takes a goddamn picture!

The moment she does it, I feel as though I can’t catch my breath—the store is suddenly too small, the outfit too tight. I’m on the verge of panicking when Stacey walks over, looking over Becca’s shoulder, checking out the picture. “Holy shit, girl, you look hot. Like smoking hot.”

My brows furrow.
I do?

I step toward them, snagging the phone out of Becca’s hand, scanning over the image. My lips part. I look … sexy … carefree. I look … like a sex goddess disguised as a nurse.

Becca takes her phone back, and starts snapping more pictures, making me pose, and sit, and bend over. I listen to all her commands, too stunned at the image I saw to protest.

She must take at least twenty pictures before she shoots me a wide smile. “Go try on something else.”

And I do, disappearing back into the dressing room.

****

Four hours later, I’m sitting on my bed, knees pulled up to my chest, flipping through the stack of pictures Becca took of me, modeling an obscene number of costumes and lingerie, when my phone rings. Setting down the photos, I snatch it up, glancing at the screen to see Joshua’s number. Smiling, I answer it, laying down on my back as I wait out the recording and accept the call.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says, as soon as the call connects. “What’s good?”

I smile. “Hey, you.”

“How was your day?”

His question causes an awkward laugh to spill from my lips. “It was … interesting.”

He’s silent for a moment, most likely waiting for me to elaborate. When I say nothing more, he presses, “Interesting?”

“Yes,” I confirm, laughing again. “Interesting.”

He laughs lightly. “Are you going to fill me in, baby girl?”

“Well,” I say, hesitating for a moment. “I worked out with Becca and in the middle of the workout I received a text message from Richard that made me feel like shit. Then, I went to a sex toy store, bought a crap load of toys and sexy outfits, and Becca took a crap load of sexy photos while I tried everything on.”

He’s silent for a beat. “What did the text message say?”

“Seriously?” I ask, giggling. “Out of everything, that’s what you focus on?”

“Yeah, beautiful,” he says. “What did it say?”

“It said that I should come and meet you in person, that once you see me, I’ll be out of your system.” My voice cracks on the words, and tears sting my eyes as I try to hold back the hurt and anger and fear that’s filling me up, threatening to drown me.

The line is stone cold silent for a second before his quiet voice comes through. “What the fuck? Why would he think that?”

“Because …” I stall, letting out another awkward laugh.

Joshua lets out a long sigh. “Don’t shut down on me, baby girl. There’s no need to feel awkward. Not with me. Tell me why he’d text you that bullshit?”

“I’m …” I hesitate, not sure I want to answer that, but holding my breath, I do it anyway. “Because I’m overweight.”

“You don’t look overweight in your photos,” he says. “You look curvy and sexy as fuck.”

“Well, I am. I’ve lost a lot, but I still have more to go.”

“How much do you weigh?” He sounds confused.

My stomach is in knots. “Does it matter?”

“Nope, just curious,” he says, and his voice … his voice sounds genuine.

The moment he says it, a smile lights up my face. “You’re pretty awesome, you know that, right?”

“I think you’re pretty awesome, too,” he says. “So when are you coming to see me?”

“Does two weeks give you enough time to get me approved for a visit?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Okay, let me just check my calendar.” Putting him on speaker phone, I tap on my calendar, pulling it up and scanning through my deadlines. “How about I come on October ninth and tenth? It’s a Friday and Saturday.”

“Sounds perfect,” he says. “Do I get to see the sexy pictures?”

I laugh sharply, my body heating at his words. How does he do that, melting my nerves away with just a few words? “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one’s going to see them,” I say on a laugh. “Ever.”

“One day you’ll be sending me sexy pictures, beautiful,” he says confidently. “You’ll be doing it because you want to, without me asking, and it’ll give you a thrill doing it. I promise you that.”

“I … uh … I …” I’m not sure how to respond to that. I start stammering and stuttering, my face heating and flushing. Oh God, I feel like such a damn fool. I guess my nerves aren’t completely gone after all.