Rachel Wants To Know Why

"Believe me, I tried to make that argument," I roll onto my back eventually, a few minutes into watching her rub lotion into her skin while she poked and prodded to find holes in my argument that weren't there because I was telling him the truth, "And I was more than willing to make it all substantially less complicated."

"But?" she asks, her voice trailing away.

"But the choice wasn't mine to make," I tell her.

She chuckles, tossing the lotion bottle over so it lands on the bed next to me, "So gentlemen really do exist then?"

"With age comes wisdom I guess," I reply, "Or patience at least."

"Patience?" she asks.

I shrug, "The patience to wait."

By this point I've done my level best to explain everything as truthfully as I possibly can to her. I mean, in spite of her best efforts, I didn't go through everything in full detail. Still she knew the basics.

He caught me last night. He made me cum, hard. And when the time came for me to return the favor, with a slip of the tongue I blew my chances away.

No fucking because he didn't want to be my first.

Then the deal. Either lose it myself or by the end of the week take a second glance at all of this and make an educated choice.

She knew the circumstances and she knew the deal and all of her prodding had made it clear to her that it was the truth, to a degree of confidence that more or less made her certain.

But that didn't mean she'd stop bugging me about it.

"So no chance then?" she pokes at me, sliding onto the bed on her knees next to me, "Not going to change his mind? The two of us running down there to join him in bed tonight is absolutely-"

"Out of the question," I growl warningly, then soften as I turn to look at her, "It wouldn't be fair to him."

She scrunches her nose, then sticks out her tongue, "You're no fun."

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe you're too much fun?" I laugh, but she shakes her head to make it clear that she's never even entertained the thought.

"I'm exactly the right amount of fun," she tells me instead, "Free spirited."

"Fun and fancy free?" I ask.

"Precisely," she agrees, turning to me in bed and starting her fingers on my thigh walking up and over my hip, "And exactly what you need tonight."

When her fingers rise over my hip and start to brush and skip their way up over the flat softness of my tummy my breath catches, knowing that she's starting on a path with only one destination in mind.

"Is that so?' I find myself replying, my voice huskier than I'd intended, "Is that what I need? You?"

"Baby," she coos at me, "You were so good tonight, so good to Jake and so good to me. You would have been good to Lucas too, I know that.

"No sense in denying it either. You would have been real good to him even if you didn't go all the way. You would have made that man cum, showed him all the little tricks you can do with your nimble fingers, with your nubile body, with your luxurious little tongue.

"You would have made him cum buckets, just like you made me and just like you made Jake. And I know you enough to know that even if you didn't get anything in return you would have given.

"Because baby, you're a giver. You give and you give and you give. And that is such a good damn deed that it deserves a reward."

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