Contemporary Romance Heroine POV/Dialogue
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
he sighed, then sucked in a deep breath of Been on my own since I was 16. That was difficult for him to admit. For some reason, it made my heart ache to think about a younger gang earlier version of Stephan struggling to get by on his own without anyone. Toe love him or care for him. You're 22 I asked. He nodded. Yeah, why you act older, more mature than any other 22 year old I've ever known. I laughed as he ducked his head again. That's a compliment. How old are you? Then? He asked. You're mature as well. I knew what he meant, but it was the perfect opportunity to tease him. Are you calling me old? His jaw dropped. What? No. You think that because I'm single in 28 that I'm mature? Does that mean old maid and stuff in land? I put my hands on my hips and furrowed my brow for good measure, he sputtered, shaking his head and holding his hands out. No, that wasn't I didn't wait. You're 28. His face went from mortified to surprise. Then back to mortified. I wasn't calling you old 28 is an old putting my hands back on the table. I burst out laughing. I was a messing with you. I admitted I'm not mad And I knew what you meant by mature. But yes, I'm 28. He gaped at me. I had no idea you were so mean. That only made me laugh harder. Oh, stop it, I said. Between my giggles, he laughed along with me. He really had me going. Tears leaked from my eyes. You were so mortified. The next thing I knew a pickle hit my nose. I stopped laughing with a gasp. Did you just throw a pickle at me? He straightened his back and curiously got you to stop laughing. I wasn't about to start a food fight, but fair was fair. I dipped my finger in my sandwich and got mustard on the tip. I have pickle juice on my nose, I said, without bothering to try to hide it. I reached across the table with the mustard on my finger, boldly aiming for his nose. He had ample opportunity to grab my hand or duck out of the way. Instead, he lifted his head and captured my finger in his mouth when he suck to the mustard off the tip of my finger, my breath caught in my throat. Desire washed over me in a way I had never experienced before. Sure, I had been horny before and had a few dates that got pretty hot and heavy. I had watched porn now and again, and I had a little device stashed away in my bedside drawer for the times. I couldn't stop the itch, but this was different. The sensation of sucking around my finger made my nipples titan and face flush. It was probably purple by the time he released my finger there, he said, his face expressive as always. He did. His eyelids were lowered and lips plumped out after my finger dragged out of them. Now that's settled. I wanted to drown in his husky, deep voice. Indeed, I whispered, I pulled my hand back to my side of the table than into my lap. If I had been, a different person would have launched myself across the table, then dragged him to his truck for a quickie. But I wasn't. I was me. That was not an option