Starfire (Peaches Monroe #3)(44)
Author: Mimi Strong

“My neighbor’s name was Chelsea,” he said. “She was a year older than me, and I followed her around like an adoring puppy. Her parents must have felt sorry for me, the kid whose parents were always having grown-ups-only parties and kicking me out of the house. I spent so much time at Chelsea’s house, I had my own spot at the table and chores written in a list on the fridge.”

“They sound like nice people,” I said.

“They were,” he said, and he went on to describe the dinners they made, the mother chopping onions with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth because she claimed the smoke prevented the onion gas from causing tears. When she fried chicken with another cigarette in her mouth, she claimed the smoke infused the meat with a barbecue flavor that was a gourmet thing.

Dalton described the family so well, I could see the striped wallpaper in the dining room, and see the father as he pushed the dinner plates aside and taught the kids how to play poker, all of them placing bets with stacks of Ritz crackers instead of money.

“Chelsea was like a sister to you,” I said. “Was she a plump girl?”

“There was no shortage of food and love in her house.”

“Oh.”

He chuckled. “She was not always sisterly, though. We would play these crazy games that she designed.”

“Doctor games? Shayla and I grew up with a ton of boy cousins, but none of us got the memo about doctor games. We didn’t do body examinations at all. Mostly we would mix together a bunch of gross things, like toothpaste and Kool-Aid, and we’d make each other drink the medicine.”

“We did that, too. Not the mixing, but we loved to play with those Alka Seltzer tablets and mix them with other fizzy things to try to make bombs.”

“That’s not how you make bombs.”

“Which is a good thing!” He shuffled around, changing his position so he was curled up facing my back, spooning me. “She and her family moved away just when things were getting interesting. Most of her new games involved her lying on top of me. My favorite was with her piling all the couch cushions and blankets on top of me, then she climbed on top of everything, and I had to escape the avalanche.”

I giggled. “That sounds fun.”

“I got my first major boners trying to squirm out from under that avalanche.”

“Oh my.”

“When Chelsea saw the bulge in my jeans, she would…” He trailed off.

“You’re killing me with suspense! What? What did she do?”

“She’d punch me in the stomach and chest. Not really hard, to hurt me, but it did distract me enough sometimes to make the erection disappear.”

I’d started giggling, and now I laughed even harder. “Chelsea sounds awesome,” I said.

“She’s probably working as a dominatrix or something. Her parents moved to Colorado, and we were just kids, so we didn’t stay in touch.”

“And she was a chubby blonde?”

“Actually, she had brown hair.”

I let this new information wash over me. There was no shortage of love or food at Chelsea’s house. Dalton had all these pleasant memories of having a big girl on top of him, so who was I to deny him this pleasure as an adult?

After a minute, I said, “Do you want me to pile all the cushions from the hotel room on top of you?”

He threw his arm over me and clinched me tightly to him, his hand squeezing one breast through the robe. “My dick is big, but not big enough to f**k you through all those cushions.”

“Who said anything about f**king? I was planning to punch you repeatedly in the chest and stomach.”

He nuzzled the back of my neck. “Mmm. Dirty talk.”

“Is that a boner I feel?”

He thrust against my bu**ocks, the padding of our robes making whatever he was doing feel less like foreplay and more like a general mashing. He nuzzled my neck some more, his breath hot near my ear. “The offer for you to climb on top is still open.”

“I bet.”

He nuzzled my neck some more, then rolled onto his back, the thick robe still covering his turgid member.

Climb on? Oh, what the hell.

With the encouragement from his eyes, I slowly climbed onto him and stretched out completely, my legs atop his, and our hands palm to palm. He had to bend his elbows for my hands to interlock with his.

“You feel as good as you look,” he said.

“Guess my weight and you win a prize.”

He smirked. “Yeah, right! The prize is you punching me in the nuts, no matter what I say.”

“You know me so well.”

“You’re not a number, and neither am I.”

I whispered my weight, in pounds, watching his face for a reaction.

He whispered back, “What a coincidence. That’s what my dick weighs.”

Then he quickly reached down between us, adjusting his allegedly-heavy dick and parting both of our robes, so that it rose up between my legs.

I punched him gently on the shoulder, then lowered my face to his. Our smiling mouths met, and we had one of those giggle-kisses, where your lips don’t quite seal together because you’re laughing through the kiss.

He rocked his hips, and the length of him filled the space between my legs, stroking lengthwise against my pu**y. We kissed deeper, our mouths connecting completely, and I started rocking my hips, grinding against him.

We still had our robes on, and for a moment, I felt like we were two teddy bears, mashing each other through our plushy stuffing.

The orgasm that had been so elusive for me was now sharp in my veins, the urgency and desperation cutting me like a knife.

I shifted up and we hesitated for all of a second before I eased down, the tip of his bare c**k inside me. I started to shudder, electric all over and desperate for just one more inch. Just a few seconds more, just one more inch. I gasped as he nudged into me, and it felt as if all of my skin was coming together at one point.

At last I snapped, and I was coming, sweet relief flooding my system.

I cried out and hunched forward, rounding my back and burying my face against his shoulder. My muscles clenched and unfurled as wave after wave of ecstasy released.

I slowed, still riding the last waves.

“Oops,” I said, shifting up quickly and pulling his half-inserted c**k from me, agonizing though it was.

“I didn’t come,” he said.

I did the math in my head. My period was due any day. Take it from me: the rhythm method is definitely how people get babies, but this particular oops couldn’t have happened at a better time of the month.