Home > Professor Feelgood (Masters of Love #2)(11)

Professor Feelgood (Masters of Love #2)(11)
Author: Leisa Rayven

I nod. “He’s sweet, and romantic, and thoughtful, and handsome, and …”

She frowns. “And … what?

How do I tell her that personality wise, he’s the most fascinating and wonderful man I’ve ever dated, and while we’re clothed, things are hot and heavy, but as soon as my naked skin hit the air, my usual hang-ups kicked in? Just once I want to be able to let go enough to have amazing sex. I’d hoped that things with him would be different. I mean, we get on so well.

“Jo, this guy is amazing and hot, and perfect for me, and yet …”

“He doesn’t rate on the vagina meter?”

I snort. “Vagina meter?”

“Yeah. You’ve got the heart meter, which is the gooey romantic stuff. The brain meter measures how much they stimulate you mentally. And then there’s the vagina meter, also known as the how-hard-he-can-make-you-come scale. Most men will get high marks on only one meter, which is why there are so many single girls out there. If you get someone who hits two, then grab them with both hands. That’s pretty rare.”

“This is my quandary. He does hit two, but that’s not enough for me. I want all three.” And my greatest fear is that I’m so sexually uptight, I’ll never get that.

“Well, wanting all three is just greedy,” Joanna says, echoing my fear. “Maybe we should settle for two and be done with it.”

“Yeah,” I say, slumping in my seat. “Maybe that’s the best we can hope for.” I should probably stop dumping perfectly good guys because of something they have no control over.

Joanna stares off into space, her eyes going soft and unfocused. “All three is the dream, though, right? Three means your soul mate. I’d like a soul mate.”

“Me, too.”

Eden plonks back into her chair and sighs. “Do you two know you look totally stoned right now, or …?”

We’re all startled when my phone buzzes.

“The Professor?” Eden asks as she sits forward.

I check the screen. “Nope. Boyfriend.”

She deflates in disappointment. “Damn.”

I swipe the message.

<I wish you were in my bed right now. The things I would do to you …>

I clear my throat and stand. Our real sex may be lackluster, but our cybersex is pure dynamite. Sure, it’s totally backwards, but right now, I don’t have the energy to care. Thanks to the professor, I’m drunk, horny, anxious, and in need of whatever relief I can get.

“Okay, it’s getting late,” I say, grabbing my drink. “I’m going to turn in.”

Now, it’s Joanna and Eden’s turn to share a look.

“Have a good one,” Joanna says with a snort. “See you at work on Monday.”

After giving her a quick hug, I head into my bedroom. I’ve just shimmied out of my clothes and have crawled into bed when my Facetime rings.

My handsome man appears on the screen, and as he takes in my appearance, a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Bonjour,” he says and pulls his own phone back, so I can see him shirtless, sitting up in bed.

I smile. “Bonjour, yourself.”


I rub a towel over my damp hair and pad into the kitchen in my robe in search of leftover pizza. If I could maintain a sexual relationship with a man on Facetime sessions alone, I’d be set. But I know damn well no man would ever be satisfied with that, and I shouldn’t expect them to be.

Eden wasn’t wrong when she said I find excuses to break up with guys. I know I do, but the reasons I give everyone else are just diversions from the truth. The real issue is, I could have the most attractive man in the world in my bed and still only get a lukewarm response from my body when naked, and I have no idea why it happens.

It’s not like I’m not capable of arousal, because I totally am. Porn does it for me. Romance novels, too. Hell, even Sprinkles Cupcakes.

But as soon as my clothes start being removed, some switch inside me flips and my excitement turns into anxiety. I’ve tried to figure out why it keeps happening, and my working theory is that my high school boyfriend was a terrible lay. At the time, I thought awkward, clumsy encounters that only lasted a few minutes were normal for teenage relationships, but we were together for a few years, and it never got better. It was clear he really wasn’t interested in my pleasure, and when he started subtly saying it was because it was impossible to get me off, I believed him. It didn’t help that on more than one occasion, he reminded me I was too high on the chubby scale to have a truly banging bod. I’d always had insecurities about my too-big boobs and curvy frame, and so his frequent digs made me dread taking off my clothes.

Having that experience during my sexual awakening must have thrown a spanner in my lady-works, because this hang-up has plagued me ever since. It’s the main reason I’ve never liked casual sex. Or sex with another person at all, if I’m being honest. As hard as I try to enjoy it, I just don’t, and so I just lie there and wait for it to be over.

These days, my preferred method of sexual satisfaction is masturbation. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m amazing at tooting my own horn. Without a doubt, I’m the most satisfying sexual partner I’ve ever had, which is a sad state of affairs.

The only bright point in my current situation is that Facetiming with my man offers me an amazing compromise. I’m comfortable being naked, because he only sees what I want him to see, and because I’m touching myself, I can orgasm in record time.

So, yeah. Even though I’ve come to accept that having sex with a guy and feeling sexually satisfied are two different and somewhat mutually exclusive exercises, with cyber-sex, I get the best of both worlds: A hot man to turn me on and my own experienced hands to get me off. Win/win.

The big downside is that I know this can’t last. No man is going to want to continue a relationship with a woman he can’t touch. Unless I can work out my issues soon, this relationship will be as doomed as all the others, and the thought of that happening is so odious, I push it to the back of my mind and try to think of other things.

I snag a piece of cold pizza from the fridge and take a bite as I check my phone again to see if the professor has contacted me.


I sigh as I chew. I could always submit my book idea without his permission, but that could get messy if Serena and Mr. Whip love it, and then I can’t deliver. Not only would I not get the promotion, I’d also be seen as unreliable.

When I get back to my room, I’m surprised to see Eden there, nabbing a cardigan from one of my drawers.

“Hey,” she says. “Is it okay if I borrow this? I’m heading out to Max’s soon, and it’s getting chilly outside.”

“Sure.” I sit on my bed and flip through my phone. Yet again, I find myself going back to the professor’s feed. Man, I’m starting to understand how an addict feels. Just a few posts. That’s all I need. Something to reignite the frisson in my blood.

Being with you was as easy as breathing. Until it wasn’t.

One day without any warning, I looked at you and all the air went out of the room.

I hate that my feelings changed.

And I hate even more that yours didn’t.”

I sigh in pleasure and flip to the next post.

I built a house around you inside my heart,

and then I burnt it to the ground,

because I’d rather see it crumble to ash

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