AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I've noticed a lot of new followers and binge-readers, some flying through all 23 chapters in a night! I appreciate every single one of you so much. I continue to be amazed that anyone wants to read what I have to put out there, so it touches my heart when you do. ILY. xo

TWITTER: @lovethedinklage

*****

SHERRY:

"Such a dirty mouth for such a beautiful girl," his fingertips brush lightly over my lips.

"Yeah, well there's gonna come a time when you like that," I tease.

"Do you like it?" Harry raises his eyebrows.

"Dirty talk?" I verify, imagining things he might say in the thick of it. "Maybe . . ."

A soft groan falls from Harry's lips as his mouth finds mine once again.

*****

HARRY

We don't mess around for much longer, because Sherry swears up and down that Julie is bringing in dinner soon. We get platonic duties out of the way, like new school assignments that I'll need to do for the week.

"What is all this stuff in here? Is this also serving as a storage facility?" Sherry jokes, looking around at boxes, trophies, sporting equipment, etc.

"Kinda," I laugh, "Louis and Niall came by today. I'd called Louis wanting my stuff out of the frat house since I don't really know if I'll be going back there. I don't want anyone messing with my shit."

"I know. I remember you had a sign on your door warning people to stay out of your room." Sherry grins.

"A completely ineffective sign. I think I'll look into a refund," I pretend pout.

"Some people ignore signs. Some people ignore names on coffee cups in public restaurants," Sherry challenges.

I love it when she gets scrappy like this. Fuck, I love it when she gets shy too. The shy part comes usually after some messing around. When things start to get a little heated, she's suddenly bashful.

"So you saw Niall today?" Sherry asks, snapping me out of my reverie. "Did y'all talk about the accident at all?"

Sherry listens intently as I talk, all the while idly unpacking the things Louis'd brought over and placing them around the room. She nods, asks questions, and looks to me occasionally so I know she's paying attention and not just working. She is a good listener. It's like everything she is doing is about me – listening to me, unpacking my things. Paige was never like this. Paige was all about Paige, either filing her nails, texting on her phone, or doing something else completely self-absorbed. Odd that I didn't notice it then, but now seeing how Sherry is, the difference is extraordinary.

We talk about having Kate and Niall over for dinner, movies, Scrabble, or whatever sometime soon. Sherry empties the last box, fits them inside each other somehow, and then stands on her tip-toes to put them up on a shelf in the closet. Her shirt rises up and I can see a few inches of flesh between the hem of her t-shirt and the waist of her jeans, which makes me want to kiss her again. Where is dinner?

"Are you hungry?" Sherry asks me, like a mind-reader. "I'm going to go check with Julie about dinner."

My hands fumble around the bedding in search of the remote control, finding something that doesn't feel exactly right in my hand. Picking it up to take a look, I realize it's Sherry's cell phone. Must have slipped out of her pocket when we were making out. I swipe my thumb across the screen. Oooh, no passcode.

Didn't she say something about nudes on her phone? Was she joking? I tilt my head quickly and listen for footsteps in the hall. I don't hear anything. Plus, Julie will probably be coming back with her, so they'll be talking. My pulse accelerates and I bite on my bottom lip while I contemplate the task at hand. Should I look? Fuck it.

A demon force inside me opens her gallery and scans her folder names. Friends, Family, blah blah fucking blah. Nothing says Nudes. Would she call it Nudes? Maybe it's hidden. I click around a bit and I'm rewarded with "show hidden items" as an option. I tap it without hesitation. Bingo. A folder entitled "Nudes" appears that has 80 items, the cover picture appearing to be of some dude's ballsack. Motherfuck. Jesus is punishing me for my sins, alright.

I consider aborting my mission, but quickly decide that I'm not gonna look at a ballsack for nothing, I'm going to persevere and find the goods. Just one good pussy shot, for the love of all things holy.

Disgustingly enough, I have to tap the ballsack photo to get the folder open. There are a lot of dick shots in here. Fortunately, they all appear to be of the same cock in different states of arousal. Not even a huge cock. It's average, I suppose, but mine puts this guy to shame. This gives my ego a bit of a boost as my eyes continue to scan for the payoff.

I see a picture of tits beneath a ribbed white tank. These tits are fighting for freedom, nipples on high alert and straining against the fabric. Even though her nipples are covered, the photo is super sexy so I text myself a copy before I continue my frantic search.

Just when I'm about to give up hope, I spot a few photos that appear to be of the Promised Land. My thumb clicks one at random, and I quickly scroll through the shots, drinking them all in. Pink, wet folds of pussy at varying degrees of openness, controlled by her own fingertips—so beautiful I could almost smell it.

I am overcome by an unidentifiable sensation as I stare at her vaginal lips and clit that I want nothing more than to press my tongue up against and lick for all she's worth. With a tinge of guilt I place her phone to the side, and look down at my lap only to realize that it isn't only moral code I'm lacking.

The flirting, the make-outs, the nudes . . . there'd been no reaction. This can only mean one thing.

I'm impotent.