How to Stay Out of Prison: A Modern-Day Woman's Guide

Chapter 19

Lyrical~

My palms were sweaty, and I felt ridiculous. Nonetheless, I stood in front of Nixon's door another few minutes before gathering up the courage to knock.

Saturday night had been beyond what I had ever imagined sex could be. Nixon had worshipped every inch of my skin, and each word that he had whispered, every kiss that he had placed, every tenderly violent act that he had committed had made me feel beautiful, wanted, and desired.

Even now, I wasn't sure how he had managed it, but I'd only felt embarrassed a couple of times that night. The rest of the time, I'd been so lost in the pleasure that he'd been creating around me that I hadn't had time to worry about flabby skin or dimpled thighs.

The first time had been when I had climbed over him to ride him. The second that I'd sat my weight across his waist, I had worried that I might be too heavy. However, the second that Nixon had sensed the change in me, he had grabbed me by my hips, then had used every rippling, sweaty, strong muscle in his arms to lift me, then slam me back down on his cock. Not only had he blown my mind with the pleasure from seating himself so deep inside of me, but he'd also proven to me that my weight was nothing for him.

The second time embarrassment had started to rear its ugly head had been when I'd just been coming down off an orgasmic high, and Nixon had nudged the head of his dick against the opening of my ass. Never having had anal sex before, my entire body had turned bright red with embarrassment and anxiousness.

I had started worrying about the logistics of how it would all work when Nixon covered my back with his chest, then had whispered in my ear, "Trust me, Lyric. Trust me, and if I let you down on this, I'll never ask you to trust me ever again." I still hadn't been sure, but then he had upped the ante by adding, "I dream of fucking you up the ass, baby. Don't ruin my dreams because of fear. I promise to make you love it."

So, I had trusted him, letting him do his worst. At first it had been painful, and I had wondered who in their right mind would ever want to engage in something so painful, dirty, and sinful. However, then the pain had given way to a different sensation that eventually had given way to unimaginable pleasure. By the end of the night, I had begged Nixon to violate me everywhere on my body, and the man had done his best to deliver.

Now, stop!

This was the part where you might want to ditch your birth control to get pregnant and trap him into marriage.

DO. NOT. DO. THIS.

If you went and trap this wonderful man, then he'd be forced to marry you, but start to resent you over time, thus causing him to cheat on you. Then, because of the insecurities that a team of psychologists couldn't fix, you'd end up murdering him and his mistress at their hotel room where there were cameras, instead of plotting out a more carefully crafted double-murder where you didn't get caught.

Murder was usually a guaranteed life sentence, but double-murder? Yeah, just...do not trap him. Let him fall in love with you naturally.

Snapping myself out of my thoughts, I decided that I'd been standing in the hallway, looking like a tool long enough. I squared my shoulders as if I was preparing to go into battle, then knocked on the door. Nixon must have been standing next to it because the door swung open not a few seconds later.

He looked down at me, and he looked...confused. "Oh, hey...uhm, I wasn't expecting you," he uttered, sounding a bit lost in thought.

It wasn't the enthusiasm that I'd been hoping for, but it wasn't a door slammed in my face, either. "I'm sorry," I immediately replied. "I probably should have called. Are you busy?"