The Hookup Experiment Read Online Crystal Kaswell

Categories Genre: Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 87856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
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Patrick: What's left?

Imogen: I lack lingerie.

Patrick: I don't need fancy lingerie.

Imogen: Maybe I do.

Patrick: I can buy you something.

Imogen: That's sort of a boyfriend task.

Patrick: Not if it's for sex.

Imogen: Maybe. Jade does say her lingerie is from gentleman callers, and she'd never consider a serious relationship.

Patrick: You've seen her collection?

Imogen: We're not that kind of roomies.

Patrick: There go my threesome fantasies.

Imogen: Really?

Patrick: No.

Imogen: Have you ever considered it?

Patrick: A threesome with two women?

Imogen: Don't tell me you haven't. I won't believe you.

Patrick: Imagined it, sure? Watched some manufactured porn? Also, yeah. Looked for something more believable… again, yeah.

Imogen: Did you find it?

Patrick: Do you want me to send links?

Imogen: I don't know. Will it scare me?

Patrick: Not the more realistic stuff. Unless porn scares you.

Imogen: I've never watched.

Patrick: Never?

Imogen: Okay, I have, but never on purpose, on my own, for stimulation. A friend showed me in high school. And there was this college party my freshman year. A bonding experience for all the girls on my floor watching some over-the-top, high-production value stuff.

Patrick: Did you like it?

Imogen: No. It was fake. And weird. Aggressive. Do you watch a lot?

Patrick: When I was younger.

I didn't always see through the bullshit. That's another thing I lost, another thing I'm glad I lost, but it's strange. I barely recognize the guy I used to be.

Patrick: Not much, anymore. I got tired of how fake it felt.

Imogen: Aren't there amateur videos?

Patrick: A lot of those are fake too.

Imogen: Manufactured authenticity?

Patrick: Exactly.

Imogen: Is there anything real?

It's a good question.

Patrick: If you look hard enough. Do you want me to find something for you?

Imogen: You'll suffer through a bunch of porn for me?

Patrick: That's how much I like you.

Imogen: What a sweet fuck buddy.

Patrick: I'm generous that way.

She sends an eggplant emoji.

Then a water drop emoji.

She's funny. She really is.

Imogen: I prefer to use my imagination.

Patrick: Oh?

Imogen: Or a book. I don't sit there, reading with one hand, but I find inspiration and then…

Patrick: Go on.

Imogen: I touch myself.

Patrick: When was the last time?

Imogen: Last night.

Patrick: What did you think about?

Imogen: I replayed our tryst in the bar.

Patrick: Which part?

Imogen: Every part. Especially your hands on my skin.

She's good at this.

I'm trying to tease her and she's torturing me.

Patrick: How did you fuck yourself?

Imogen: My hand on my clit.

Patrick: Do you have toys?

Imogen: Yes, but they wouldn't feel like your hands on my skin.

My blood rushes south.

Why did I wear jeans? The denim is too tight.

Imogen: I thought about this too. How it would go. How it would feel to send you a picture. To hear your voice. Or for you to hear mine.

Patrick: I want to.

Imogen: You're somewhere private?

Patrick: Yeah.

Imogen: Can you go somewhere public?

Patrick: You want me to hear around other people?

Imogen: Yeah. I want to torture you too.

So she knows the effect she has on me.

Patrick: What if I want to fuck myself?

Imogen: You can wait.

I want to wait. Is it that obvious?

Patrick: Pictures first.

Imogen: What do you want to see?

Patrick: You. In your bed.

Imogen: I need a mirror here, for angles.

Patrick: You want to go to Target? I'll buy one.

Imogen: That's domestic. Target.

Patrick: It's dirty. Buying a mirror for sex in front of all these people shopping for laundry detergent.

Imogen: When you put it that way…

Patrick: If you stay over after the party.

Imogen: Bribery?

Patrick: Or before if you'd prefer. We can meet there instead of my place.

Imogen: I'll consider the bribery.

Patrick: It could be for my place.

Imogen: I'm considering it.

Patrick: Picture. Now.

She sends a snapshot of her legs stretched over the bed.

Then a higher one.

Purple fabric stretched over her hips.

The long line of her torso.

A matching bra covering her perfect tits.

And then her face, her lips the perfect shade of berry, her eyes on fire with need.

Patrick: Take off the bra.

Imogen: Done.

Patrick: Show me.

She sends a photo of the bra on her sheets.

She doesn't trust me.

It's fair.

But it's—

The buzz of my cell interrupts my thoughts.

There it is.

A picture of Imogen, from her nose to her belly button.

Only Imogen.

Her bare skin against the dark pink sheets.

Patrick: You're gorgeous.

Imogen: Thank you.

Patrick: I'm hard enough to cut glass.

Imogen: Are you ready to call?

Patrick: Take off your panties.

She sends another picture of her underwear on her sheets.

Then just her.

She is torturing me. She's torturing me in the best possible way.

Patrick: Two minutes.

Imogen: I'm not waiting two minutes.

Patrick: Thirty seconds.

Imogen: Fifteen.

There's no way I'm going to let the flag fall while I do this. I can't walk around advertising the state of affairs, but I can stay discrete—

I slip out of the bathroom.

Luna shoots me a suspicious look. "That fast?"

"No."

She looks to my crotch without a hint of shyness. "You know, I, uh… I'm going to get some coffee."

She grabs her sweater and leaves.

I find my sketchbook, hold it over my waist, step outside the shop.

There's nobody to greet customers.



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