Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
I clicked through another video, barely watching. The moans, the wet sounds, the over-the-top actingId seen it all before. Different faces, same setup. Some guymuscled, cockyslamming into some girl who squealed on cue. It was mechanical. Predictable. Nothing about it felt real.
My hand hovered over the trackpad, scrolling without thinking. Lesbian. Rough. Blowjob. Hardcore. None of it sparked anything. I wasnt even hard. Just... bored.
I sighed, leaning back in my chair, rubbing my face. Maybe I was burnt out. Maybe Id just watched too much. Or maybefuckmaybe I just wasnt into this kind of thing.
That was a thought I didnt love.
I tried again, clicking something different. A softer video this time. Slower. A woman on top, rocking her hips in long, slow rolls. The way she movedher eyes half-lidded, mouth open in a breathless moanit was definitely hot. But the guy underneath her? He just laid there, grunting, hands on her hips, like he wasnt even part of it. Like he was some prop while she did all the work.
It hit me, then.
Thats what was missing.
It wasnt the sex itself. It wasnt the positions, the pacing, or even the roughness. It was the fact that none of these guys ever seemed to feel anything. No desperation, no tension, no raw, consuming need. Just... going through the motions, getting off, finishing.
I swallowed, closing the laptop. Maybe porn just wasnt cutting it anymore. Maybe I needed something... else.
Or maybe I just needed someone to show me what I was missing.
I shut the laptop and rubbed my face, still feeling that weird, restless energy twisting inside me. I needed to do somethingget up, walk around, clear my head. Maybe talk to someone.
And when I felt like this, there was only one person I really talked to.
I found my mom in the kitchen, glass of wine in hand, scrolling through her phone. Momshe hated when I called her "Mom" in publicwas the kind of woman who looked too good for her age. Like, unfairly good. She took care of herself, stayed in shape, wore dresses that clung in all the right places. Even now, barefoot in the kitchen, her hair in a loose, messy bun, she still had that... thing. That thing that made guys stare when we went out together.
"Hey, kid," she said, looking up. "Youre brooding again."
I rolled my eyes, leaning against the counter. "Im not brooding."