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“Stop teasing me,” I growl at him in frustration. I weave my fingers into his hair and try to direct his mouth where I want it.

“You want me to eat your pussy, baby?” he asks, nuzzling his face further between my legs and running his nose up and down my slit. “It’s all pretty and pink, glistening with your juices.”

“Yes! Yes!” I pant out. My whole body is overly sensitized, anticipating the warmth of his mouth, wanting the pleasure it knows only Tanner can give.

Tanner replaces his nose with his tongue and runs it up and down my slit, dipping inside me. Screams of pleasure leave my mouth as involuntarily as my breath. There’s no holding back. He has me hanging on edge. The tiniest nudge and I will fall, fall into the sea of nirvana that is better than any other feeling known to man.

He abruptly stops and moves away before bringing his eyes up to meet mine. “I’m sorry, Ashley, but I only make honest people come—not lying gold diggers like you.”

My eyes pop open as I jackknife up in bed. My heart is racing, and I’m covered in sweat. My panties are fucking soaked. Again. This bullshit has to stop. I can only take so many cold showers in the middle of winter.

“Sometimes being pregnant sucks,” I whine to Quinn as I plop myself down next to her on the sofa and put my feet in her lap. I lean my head over the arm of our overstuffed blue couch and sigh. I’ve really come to love this couch. I like to rub my cheek on the soft micro-suede, and lately I’ve found myself preferring to sleep here rather than in my bed. If only it were bigger so I could sprawl out more.

“Your ass hasn’t gotten that big, and you haven’t been sick in weeks. You even get to sleep in the middle of the day, and no one questions it. What’s wrong now?” Quinn asks, pausing whatever dumb reality show she’s watching from her DVR stash.

“Well, first, my boobs are killing me. I’ve gone up a whole cup size. Normally, I’d be grateful for the free boob job, but these babies hurt,” I tell her, my hands unconsciously rising to rub my sore breasts. “Second, my nipples are super sensitive, which is sensory overload when you add in the fact that I’m hornier than a frat boy in a whorehouse. I had to replace the batteries in my vibrator last week, and they were still practically brand new. I’m seriously considering going back to that shop and buying one of those purple vagina killers.”

She laughs as though I’m kidding, but I’m completely serious. My vagina has been one greedy bitch lately. Nothing seems to satisfy her.

Quinn grins and says, “You burnt through those batteries already? Damn.”

I don’t know why, but the comment really pisses me off. “Don’t laugh at me, bitch,” I snap. “Just because you’ve got Alex fucking you into next week doesn’t mean you get to make fun of my lack of sex like you’re the Queen of Cocks.” I feel tears welling behind my eyes.

“Queen of Cocks?” she asks, laughing even harder.

The tears have risen up, brimming on my lower lids. One blink will surely cause a tidal wave.

“Yes, Queen of Cocks, you know—the gatekeeper of all the cocks. She’s the bitch who decides who gets some and who doesn’t and then gets her rocks off mocking the poor pathetic fools like me who don’t get to enjoy any of it,” I explain, tears now streaming down my face.

“Hold up. You’re crying because, in your delusional mind, you’ve made me Queen of Cocks and I’m supposedly the one denying you a good fuck?” she asks in a confused tone.

“No. I’m crying because I’m a hormonal wreck and I’m sex deprived. I was getting superb sex on a regular basis, and then I was cut off cold-turkey. On top of that, my sex dreams are always with him, are way better than the reality ever was, and I always wake up before I come. EVERY. FUCKING. TIME. Then I wind up needing to finish what my dream started, requiring me to use said dream to finish the job, and then I’m angry at myself for thinking about Tanner while making myself come. Or I have to take a cold shower. Who the hell enjoys cold showers?”

Quinn stares at me, speechless, as I continue my tirade. I’m having a full blown meltdown at this point, so I might as well let it all out.

“Then there are the cravings! I want Cherry Garcia Ben and Jerry’s like all the time. Plus, I saw at least ten very pregnant women this week, and they all—each and every one of them—had their significant others by their sides, fawning all over them. I’m never going to have that, and it makes me really, really sad.” I drop my head into my hands and let the sobs out.

“Aww, Sweets, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you more upset, but come on, Queen of the Cocks? It’s funny, and you know it.” She pulls my feet together in her lap and massages them. “How long have you been having these dreams and when did they start?” she asks, focusing on rubbing my left foot.

I sigh in pleasure as she hits a sweet spot in the middle of my foot. “They started after his impromptu apology visit.”

“You’ve been this horny for two weeks?” She gives me a look filled with sympathy as she moves on to the right foot.

“Don’t look at me like that, and yes, I have. It wasn’t nearly as bad until I saw him in my person. In my mind, I’d convinced myself that he’d morphed into Quasimodo after we broke up.” I laugh. “All that work down the drain with one stupid visit. I could smell his cologne for two days after. Why does he have to be such a good-looking, good-smelling prick?”

“You know what you need?” she asks, moving her still-massaging hands from my feet up to my calves.

“Whaaat?” I moan out, enjoying the calf massage.

“Are you seriously going to orgasm just from me rubbing your calves?” she asks in disbelief.

I chuckle. “Hopefully, because that would be really nice. You’d be a better lover than almost all of my past boyfriends.” All but one. Of course he would be the only one who knew how to play my body like a fiddle and could fuck me six ways to Sunday.

“I know that I promised to be here for you throughout this entire thing, but I draw the line at making you come. That’s weird even for me.” She pushes my legs off her lap and onto the floor with a laugh.

“Ha, ha, ha… You were saying?” I give her a glare for disrupting my comfort.

“You need a night out. You know, Alex asked me to go to that upcoming fundraiser with him. Why don’t you come with us?” she suggests excitedly. “We have an extra ticket. You need to get all dolled up and feel good about yourself. It’ll make you feel like a million bucks.” She does make a good point. Nothing makes a girl feel better than getting all dressed up for big a party.

“Why the hell not?” I have a feeling that somehow I’m going to regret this.

“You need a new dress,” she says enthusiastically.

“No. I’m not buying a dress that I’m literally only going to be able to wear once,” I tell her as my hand roams over my slowly growing bump. She opens her mouth to say something, but I stop her before she has the chance because I know exactly what she’s thinking. “And neither are you.”

“You’re right. We’ll go consignment. There’s a place down in Hudson Square,” she says before going off on tangent about colors and accessories.

Lord help me.

“You look absolutely stunning,” Quinn says when I open my bedroom door.

“Gorgeous,” Alex agrees with a wide smile. Over the last month, he’s become a very good friend, even if his taste in other friends is completely questionable.

“Thank you,” I say, smiling genuinely. I think I look great as well. The dress Quinn and I found is fabulous—metallic silver and covered in beading. With its flowy style, it’s great for my expanding midsection, and it’s impossible to tell that I’m pregnant. I can’t remember what Quinn called it—empire something or other. With a slit on the left side that goes to mid-thigh, it’s still quite sexy. Quinn had me pair it with simple black Jimmy Choo heels, but she’d insisted that I need party makeup, so I’m a bit more done-up than usual. My hair is swept over to one side and is hanging down over my shoulder in a bevy of curls. Quinn had been right. Getting dressed up was just the pick me up I needed.

“Are you beautiful ladies ready?” Alex asks, flashing his most charming smile at Quinn and me.

“I just need to change out my purse really quick,” I say, heading to my closet to grab my black clutch. I move everything I might need from my everyday purse and then make my way down the hall toward the coat closet for my dress coat.

As I reach the end of the hallway, I hear hushed murmuring from the entryway.

“Did you tell her?” Alex asks in muted tones.

“No,” Quinn answers.

“You know she’s going to be pissed, right?”

“I don’t care anymore. She needs this. They need this push.”

I have a feeling that I’m not going to like whatever it is that they’re talking about, so I choose to ignore it as I make my way toward the front door, resolving to find out tomorrow. I’m all dressed up and ready to go, and I don’t want anything to ruin my night out.

As we pull up to the Waldorf Astoria, I’m starting to wish I’d asked more questions regarding this event before agreeing to go. They don’t let just anyone host an event at the Waldorf on New Year’s Eve. Whatever charity is hosting this event, they’ve certainly gone all out.

Quinn and Alex get stopped near the entrance by an acquaintance of Alex’s, but I keep walking, taking everything in. I wish I would’ve known the event had a gold theme. I feel as though my dress clashes with everything… Oh well! I look damn good.

The table linens are white and covered with sparkly gold tulle. The square centerpieces are bowls with floating candles and glittering ornament-like balls in them. A huge sign over the stage area reads, “A New Year, A New Face.” Underneath, smaller gold letters spell out “The Tony Mathis Foundation.”

Now I know what the whispering must have been about. I’m going to kill those two—just as soon as I find them. How could they do this to me? Scanning the crowd, I try to find them, but I end up finding him instead. Of course he’s in a fucking tux… and he’s laughing it up as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. Fucking asshole. As much as I hate him—and I really fucking hate him—I can’t tear my eyes away from him. That is until I catch a flash of teal in my peripheral vision and beeline it toward my traitorous best friend and her date.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl out between my gritted teeth.

“I’m guessing you figured out where we are, huh?” She looks down at the floor to hide from my murderous glare. At least she has the decency to look remorseful.

I’m seething. “After everything I told you the other day while crying my eyes out, you decided
this i
s exactly what I need?” On what planet did she think this was a good idea?

“Yes, I did. You need a night out while looking absolutely fabulous, and he needs to see it. And you need to see him too. I think you should hear him out, Ash,” she says, a slight wariness in her voice. Quinn is never timid or wary, so she must really be worried about my reaction.

“This is the last thing I need. I’m horny twenty-four seven and getting off to my dreams of him fucking me, and you think I need to see him in a tux? He’s wearing a fucking tux, Quinn. My vagina doesn’t give a shit how much I hate him right now,” I spit at her, not caring that Alex can hear every word. At least he’s has the decency to keep any smart-ass comments to himself.

“Why don’t you just try to have a good time, Ashley? Hang out with us, and if Tanner tries to talk to you tonight, hear him out. What can it hurt?” she asks, shrugging.

“Everything. It can hurt everything. Thanks a lot.” I turn to head to the bar before I remember I can’t even get drunk. Fucking great!