by SM Lumetta
He waves his hand around like my justification is barely plausible. “Whatever. Still doesn’t count.”
“Fine. Regardless, kissing?” I ask to confirm.
“Sure.”
I growl momentarily to myself. “I honestly do not understand why it took this long, roundabout bullshit to get to an okay, we can kiss,” I grumble. “This is so fucking weird.”
“Should we practice the kissing? Maybe get the possible weirdness out of the way?” he suggests, suddenly looking really awkward. “I’m being serious now.”
“Oh, because your cock in my vagina will be totally normal if we’re all good with the kissing.”
“Fucking hell,” he groans as he stands and stalks toward his bedroom. “You’re an asshole.”
I trip into a cackling fit, thoroughly enjoying his sudden discomfort with being teased. “If you put it in my asshole,” I call after him, “then I have seriously misjudged the intelligence contribution of my sperm donor.”
He slams his bedroom door.
“I guess we’ll talk more later?”
Since Fox refuses to talk to me, I text him from the kitchen to tell him my plan is to come by tomorrow night, so he needs to make sure none of the boys are planning to drop by. His responding text is “the fuck out my house.” I laugh so loud, Flower starts barking at me. So I leave.
Still, I have to prepare. Girl’s gotta make sure the downtown area is trimmed up nice and neat, wax the runway and all that. Well, actually, I lasered off my underarms and most of my hair down there, because I have enough shit to deal with. Aside from any grooming are the provisions. There’s a huge sex shop on the PCH, so I drive out to get some magazines and videos. I consider toys and whatnot, but I have no idea if he likes any of that. I find that I spend far too much time looking at magazines, and more than once I get a hairy eyeball from the cashier for snickering. I mean, come on, I cannot be the only one who gets goofy looking at some of these.
I buy way more than I can ever possibly need—maybe I’m stocking a sperm clinic yank room. They don’t know. I begin to doubt myself, anyway. Like twenty magazines are not enough. Or a stack of ten DVDs. Do I have an unlimited budget? Apparently. I hope I don’t get a call from Visa. Or maybe I hope I do. Otherwise, they don’t see the several hundred dollars at a sex shop as normal. Whatever. I’m avoiding. And nervous.
Come seven or so in the evening, I pull up at Fox’s house and stare at the door from the driver’s seat of my Mustang. The top is down, so if he looks out, he’ll see me sitting here like a weirdo. I take a deep breath and push out. I grab the backpack o’naughty, the bag of sexy booze, and force myself up the walk to the door.
“Hi, Fox,” I say to myself, under my breath. “Let’s have some sex.”
Jesus, this is insane. No, no it’s not. It’ll be great. Let’s do this.
I triple knock and let myself in. “Monkhouse, I’m here,” I announce. Nice that I say it like one of the guys. That makes the fact we’re about to get down and do the nasty the opposite of strange. Totally.
He comes out of his bedroom shirtless. Low-slung jeans riding far below any decent point. I follow the ridges of his trim stomach and slip easily down the V of his waist to pelvic muscles. Goddamn. This might be really easy. For me. I… I don’t know. I snap my eyes back up to his and he smirks. Fucker.
I turn and set the bags on the table. I exhale big and loud, and unzip the pack.
“Okay, I got lots of porn here,” I tell him as he walks toward me. Secretly, I’m hoping he doesn’t need it, but I’m realistic. We’ve been friends for so long that seeing me as a sexual being may not be in his wheelhouse. Though, I have a hoo-ha, and I think I’m fairly attractive, so that ticks off most of the requirements on his list. I hope. I’m just trying to shield myself from being insulted. “I figured if you needed them, you could get your own damn ‘peter perking pills.’ ”
“Did you just say—?”
“That’s right, sir. Boner pills.”
“What are you insinuating? That I need help getting it up?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” I can’t bring myself to say it because it sounds so “woe is me,” and I refuse to come off as weak in this situation. At least not intentionally.
“Then what?” He glares, but it’s more of a concerned look than mad. “Wait. Do you think I can’t get an erection for you?”
I feel a little sheepish, but also happy. I am trying to will the blush away from my cheeks. I think it’s working. Sort of. Maybe not. “I didn’t want to assume you could see me as, well, I don’t know. Desirable.”
“I may not be seventeen anymore, but I’m not sixty.” His gaze is like the midday sun, melting me into nothing but a puddle. I almost can’t bring myself to look. When I do, I cross my eyes. Yes! Keep it funny.
“I know, but—”
“Sophie,” he says with a strange purring sound to his voice that I swear went straight to the lady cave. “You are beautiful and you are sexy. I don’t need a pill for my dick to agree.”
That was sort of a compliment. All right, it was. I think. I’m not sure. He’s standing awfully close and I’m feeling a little sweaty and tingly. I clear my throat. “Okay, then. Come on! Let’s go put your pocket rocket in my rocket pocket!”
His intense gaze morphs from panty blazing to a significantly cooler frown. “That may be the least sexy thing you’ve ever said.”
That got my attention. I turn and raise an eyebrow at him. “Do I say a lot of sexy stuff?”
Fox looks like a deer in the headlights.
Fordham scores a win! The audience cheers!
“Do I?” I ask again.
He emits a high-pitched trilling sound. It’s awkward. And reminiscent of a prepubescent girl.
It makes me happy that I’m not the only one who’s nervous. At least a little.
“Do I have a constant boner?” he says finally, but it’s forced. I feel vaguely like I have half to three quarters of an upper hand.
“Yes.”
“What? I do not.” He seems indignant. He even checks himself. I snort, feeling so much more comfortable now. It’s almost normal between us. Well, except for the part where we’re going to have sex. Like, any minute. There’s still that.
“Then why did you ask?” I’m totally egging him on now. He asked for it.
“I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“It was rhetorical.”
“Then why are you laughing?” I ask, straight-faced.
His face crumbles into said laughter. “Dammit, Sophie, I hate when you do that.”
“Clearly,” I disagree. “Do you want a drink first? I brought tequila.”
“Don Julio?” His eyes light up watching me unload the liquor bag.
I hold up the bottle. “Herradura.”
“Holy shit.” He grabs his junk. Honestly. I know how much he loves Herradura. I bet anything he’s battling a semi right now.
“I know.” I wink and set the bottle down.
“Body shots?” he suggests with an eyebrow waggle.
“If you think it’ll help. But you know I’m ticklish,” I say.
“Tempting. Shut up and pour, then.”
Holding up two shot glasses full of our favorite tequila, we clink them together and throw them back. It’s smooth and nothing like those cheap tequilas that go down like razor blades in your throat. Herradura makes it easy to enjoy it instead of swallowing it as fast as possible.
“Ahh,” we both say.
He winks. “No lemon slices?”
“What is this?” I ask. “College? You don’t need it with a good tequila.”
“I was testing you,” he says.
“Nice try.” I move to one side and pull out the naughty bag. Quickly, I unload everything onto his kitchen table. I stand back and pose like one of the girls on The Price is Right. I still love that show.
“That is a lot of porn.” Fox’s eyes are wide.
He looks… I don’t k
now, shocked? I survey the stack of DVDs and magazines. “Well, I wasn’t sure what I would like.”
“What about me?” he asks, hands on his hips like an angry preteen. “Didn’t you consider my tastes?”
“I’ve seen your porn, man. I got you.” I pick up two of the DVDs and one of the mags. “Ass Man. Very classy.”
He snatches the zine out of my hand, rolls it up, and smacks me on the ass with it.
I kind of like it. “Ooh.”
He perks. “Really?” An evil grin spreads across his face. “You like the spankings, huh?”
The look of surprise on my face feels stuck. “I had no idea. I should have gotten one of those videos.”
“Videos are one thing. Doing it is another. Speaking of”—he throws the ass magazine on the sofa and steps up to me, chest to chest—“I don’t need a video, Sophie. The shots relaxed me, so let’s do this.”
“You mean I bought all this stuff for—”
“We don’t need it,” he grinds out.
His mouth is so close to mine that I feel his breath break across my face and the heat of his body.
“That doesn’t mean it won’t get used at some point.”
My heart rate begins to speed. Holy shit. We are honest to God doing this.
“Okay.” My voice breaks. He grabs my ass firmly and presses me against him fully. I gasp. He’s already getting hard. “Oh, wow.”
“Wait till it’s inside you,” he says, his voice low and gravelly.
“Holy shit, I felt that in my cooter!” I mentally slap myself and then grumble, “Sorry. That was not sexy.”
“You want another shot?” he asks, but he hasn’t moved. His voice is still deep, low and intense.
“No, I—” Truth is, the booze doesn’t stop me from saying the wrong things. Like, ever. Apparently, it’s not necessary as his tongue is already in my mouth. I’m kissing Fox.
Holy mother of God, I am kissing Fox Monkhouse.
I flash back to summertime kisses behind his parents’ shed at their old cottage up in Big Sur. We just wanted to see what the fuss was about. At the time, we both agreed it was just wet and pointless. After that, we went back to the beach nearby and hunted for washed up jellyfish.
But now. Now, it was interesting. I was surprised by how the kiss transported me. I forgot who he was and who we were. Strong hands holding me to him, one still on my ass—he is an ass man, and that magazine is his legit fave—and the other in the middle of my back.
“Kissing was a good plan,” he mumbles between our lips. “Time for advanced work.”
He reattaches his mouth to mine as he hunkers down a little to lift me. I wrap my legs around him and cross them at the ankles. I feel his erection behind his zipper and I grind myself against it.
“Wanton hussy,” he teases.
“Your favorite thing,” I say and I feel him smile. “Let’s go. Come on.” I sound needy. Well, in my defense, it’s been over ten months.
Fox chuckles darkly, but we’re already on the way to his bedroom. The light changes once we’re there, the large windows letting in the inviting glow of a setting sun. I bask in it a bit as he puts me down. He helps me out of my shirt, groaning happily when he realizes I’m not wearing a bra. “Freeboobinit, eh?”
“Yep. Free the ta tas and all that,” I say. “Go on, have a squeeze.”
He smirks and brings his hands up to surround my boobs. “I have not seen these since I secretly snooped around your bedroom window freshman year.”
I slap him. Seriously, it was a reflex. “Sorry! Sorry, I… did you really spy on me?”
He recovers quickly, though his initial shocked reaction was hilarious. “Totally! You were three houses down and rocking tits no girls had yet.”
I throw my head back. “Ha! I wish I could say I’m surprised. Then again, I’m happy I helped set a realistic expectation for tit size. I just wish I could say they got significantly bigger than fifth grade.”
“No,” he says, pulling on my shorts. “These are nice. Now get your head back in the game or I’m going to lose my hard-on.”
“Bloody hell, man,” I nearly growl. “We’re even talking tits and you’re in danger of deflating?”
“Shut up,” he snaps, and pulls my shorts and underwear free of my legs. “Wow.”
“Really?” I say with a tiny squeal. I look down over my body. I mean, I have a decent body image, I’d say, but I certainly have compared my body to other women—specifically some of the bombshells he’s bagged.
“I’m just thinking I’ve never seen you fully naked. Not since bathing together when we were five.”
And then I feel self-conscious. “Way to kill it, Fox,” I say quietly. I try to slip under his top sheet, but he lunges forward and cages me under his arms.
“Stop,” he says. “I didn’t mean you weren’t nice to look at. I just… had a realization, that’s all.”
I look in his eyes and know he means it. I smile. “Okay. Then get naked, fucker,” I tell him.
“There’s my girl. Gettin’ down to business,” he says, his voice gravelly. He dives in to kiss me as I grapple with his fly.
“Damn surfers and their button fly,” I grumble behind his lips.
“Zippers rust,” he mumbles but interrupts himself by moaning.
In his defense, I just wrapped my hand around him.
“Yeah, okay, that’s happening.”
Did you catch that? I mean, I have my hand on Fox’s dick! THIS IS HAPPENING!
“Come on, baby, give it to me,” I tease.
“Don’t do that,” he says with a groan, but that falters when I slide my grip up and down. “But yeah, do that… ohh, shit. Fuck, this is weird.”
I loosen my grip.
“Not that weird!” he amends. “Don’t stop. It’s good. I—”
My peal of laughter stops him. But I don’t. Stop, that is. He grins and takes over my job. I snicker. He took over my hand job. He narrows his eyes, but kisses me. I help him scramble out of his jeans so he can get us into starting position.
“Last chance before I have forever screwed you,” he says as the wickedest smile he’s ever aimed at me dances across his face. It makes the situation down south worse. Or better, given what we’re about to do. His fingers slip over my lips—the lower ones—and find me wet. Ready. “Goddamn,” he murmurs.
I just focus on breathing for a second before I pick my head up off the pillow to lick the end of his nose. “Fuck me,” I whisper.
That pretty much does it, because he parts me with his fingers, slides in immediately after, and… oh my God! I’m full. It feels… good. Even better when he starts to move. I can’t help but marvel at the fact that one of my best friends is fucking me right now. This… is entirely unexpected.
“Oh my God, your dick is in me. I can feel it.” I can’t help it. I’m still a bit astounded by this situation. I’ve always been aware that Fox is a hot commodity, but again, I’ve known him since he just learned to stop pronouncing his l’s as w’s. Some things go right over my head.
“Of course you can feel it,” he snaps through gritted teeth. “It’s not a baby dick, for fuck’s sake.”
Of that I am quite aware. On top of it, he said “fuck’s sake.” I can’t hold it in. “For fuck’s sake,” I squeak, a barrage of titters erupting. Oh, my God. TITTERS.
“Jesus Christ, Sophie, I’m trying to concentrate. It’s you, so I have to ignore the awkward part of this.”
“We were doing fine,” I say. “Why do you need to concentrate? How did we get to the awkward now?”
He’s fighting the humor in this scenario. I can’t believe I’m the chill one right now. His movement is incredibly controlled, thrusting slowly in short strokes. “My head keeps getting in the way and you’re all giggly, so shut up. Please?”
I move my legs up to his sides and hold his face with my hands. “Just let it go,” I say in an overboard sultry voice. “You know, like Elsa. Except with the laughing. Do you want me to si
ng?”
“Fucking hell,” he growls before giving in. Moments later he looks up at me. His forehead is creased and his voice is pleading. “I never talk this much during sex, Lolls. Ever. And neither does whoever I’m fucking. Could you, maybe, shut the fuck up?”
That’s it. I can’t control it anymore. I burst. With the laughing, of course. “Stop saying ‘fuck’!”
“Ugh.” He collapses on top of me. “This may actually have been the worst idea you have ever come up with. In your life.”
He’s still inside me, and still hard, so that’s a good sign. Plus, I’m quite comfortable despite his weight restricting my air intake. I clear my throat and mumble an apology. “There, awkwardness done.”
He hasn’t moved yet. Fox is radiating second thoughts. In fact, I think he’s freaking out a little bit. Maybe it just got real for him. God knows he doesn’t get to know his other partners very well before he’s out the door.
“Uhh, this? Maybe it’s not, um. I mean, I—”
I distract him by performing a quick set of hoo-ha hugs—aka squeezing off a set of Kegel exercises. His head snaps to attention and he looks up, eyes pointing daggers at me. I curl my tongue to touch my front teeth as I smile, because I’m sexy like that, and roll my hips a couple times just to make him feel me.
“Have you honestly never laughed during sex? Sex can be funny, Fox,” I say, my voice going inexplicably husky. I must have postnasal drip. “And an integral part of the word ‘funny’ is fun.”
A smirk tugs at one side of his mouth. I’ve almost got him.
“And allow me to reassure you, I had one of the best orgasms ever because we were laughing.” It’s sort of true, because I can’t guarantee that the great “O” was due to anything more than the amazing equipment attached to my boyfriend at the time. “Funny is fun is funny,” I add, nonsensically, because he hasn’t responded yet. “Is fun.”
“Well, if there’s one thing you and I do well,” he whispers, “it’s fun.”
I nod and grin, a thousand idiotic memories with him flashing before my eyes. “So let’s have some fun.” My volume matches his, and I try to ignore how totally fucking horny we both sound all of a sudden. Anxiety begins to creep up the back of my neck for some reason, but thankfully I’m completely distracted by what he does next.
