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She pulled the towel off her head and whipped me in the ass with it on her way toward the door. “Shower, trim your bikini line, spray some perfume on your panties.” “Can’t I just wear my pjs?” She snapped her fingers and pointed at me, wide-eyed. “You beautiful genius. Christmas pajama party.”
I couldn’t know for sure, of course, but the hollow feeling in my gut as I looked down at the woman in the picture with her arms snug around Frankie’s waist told me it was the infamous ex. She had parts of him I never would, and that made me inappropriately envious. Friends don’t get jealous of their friends having ex-girlfriends. Unless there were feelings involved, and that was something I couldn’t afford to let happen.
“That’s not a board game.” Frankie’s sharp voice met the shell of my ear. I lost my balance on the bag beneath me in an instant, yelping as my feet and head threatened to switch places. A strong arm wrapped around my waist and righted me before I could hit the ground, depositing me back on the hardwood floor beside him. “You scared the shit out of me.” I held a palm to my chest. “Boo,” he teased, trading me a glass of chilled white wine for the shoe box I miraculously still held onto.
“You want to know anything about me, all you need to do is ask.” “Snooping through your supply closet was so much easier.” “You should have checked my underwear drawer. All the good stuff is in there.”
“I like your pjs,” I said. “Classic. Timeless.” “Can I tell you a secret?” He leaned over, whispering. His fingers walked a trail from my knee to the hem of my cotton shorts. “I actually sleep naked.”
This was all fun, wine, popcorn, and games until bedtime. When Mateo and Nat waddled off to their sound studio and Frankie and I were left to fill in each other’s blanks. My nerves were on edge, despite how casual the hooking up was meant to be.
Maybe I could be the girl who demanded what she deserved and never let a man know my next move. More spontaneity, less domesticity. I fingered the button on my pajama shirt. “Even with a stranger in your bed?” “Especially with her in my bed.”
Two-and-a-half glasses of wine. That’s how much alcohol it took to get Ophelia Brody so tipsy she started cheating at Scattergories.
Her words came out slower and in a deeper, sexier baritone that for whatever reason crept up my spine and vibrated like live wire. That’s a good voice, I thought. One I wouldn’t mind hearing on a late-night phone call, long distance. One I’d never delete out of my voicemail just so I could go back and rehear it.
No one knew where the hours had gone when the credits rolled on the third movie. The wine opener sat next to a pile of discarded corks on the table and the four of us lay happily drunk on the couch in our pajamas.
She folded herself into my side like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I could tell that sleep wasn’t too far off.
“Stop cleaning, I’ll take care of it later.” “I don’t mind,” she stammered, standing and gathering the glasses. “Are you still hungry? I could make you something.” “What’s going on with you?” I grinned. “I don’t want anything, except for you to sit back down and tell me how you got so good at cheating at board games.” Her lips twitched into a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “For some reason I don’t think the word ‘moulage’ is one you use too often.” “Psh.” She snorted. “I’m just…extremely well read.” “And versed in military jargon.” “Exactly.”
Being alone together had its insinuations. After all, we'd decided to have sex days ago and had yet to cross that threshold—but there was no expectation, like she probably thought there was. I was still reeling over the fact that she wanted me in that way in the first place.
“Come here.” I twisted her in my lap until I was being straddled. Her hands went to my chest and those eyes lingered at my mouth before finding glossy focus. I could read her mind in that moment; we were speaking our own language. So I tucked her hair behind both ears and pulled her lips to mine. Immediately, Ophelia’s eyes fluttered closed and her fingers swept through my hair, holding on like an anchor. She kissed me good. With a more confident determination than she ever had before.
My hands explored her chest, down her ribs, settling in the perfect dips at her hips, and rocked her gently. Even that slow, barely-there movement made my breath catch in my throat. The accompanying grunt got her attention. “You didn’t kiss me the other day,” she mumbled, moving herself back and forth against me without my timid guidance. “On our date.” I slowed her down, sliding my hands underneath her button-up pajama shirt and squeezing gently. She needed to take it easy on me. “I’m kissing you now.” “Were you trying to be a gentleman?”
Her back arched. “Do you not like to kiss women after you come in their mouths?” My God. I laughed, my head tilting to rest on the back of the couch and exposing my neck that she then leaned down and started sucking on. Everything in my body was rigid and buzzing, getting needier by the second. “Are you a little tipsy, Trouble?” She bit my pulse and then my jaw. “Answer my question.” “We can answer it together later.”
Grabbing her hair in a ponytail in my fist, I jerked her head back and kissed a line from her chin to her ear. “Do you want more than this?” My grip was tight, but she nodded against it. “You don’t have to say yes,” I told her, pressing my lips to her jaw. “You can sit in my lap and kiss me all night. I won’t mind.” “I want you to kiss me in other places.” “Thank fucking God.” I lifted us both and started down the hall with her limbs wrapped around me like a koala. “I gotta put my dick in something wet before I lose my mind.”
door hadn’t even closed before we started peeling each other’s clothes off. Scrap by scrap, my shirt over my head, her little white shorts down her thighs. Ophelia’s body would never not surprise me; I found something new and lovely and perfect every time I saw it.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she joked. Her knees connected with the edge of the mattress and I caught her by her elbows before she fell back. “You have no idea how offended I am that you still think I’m one of those guys.”
I didn’t know what it was with this girl but I never knew what to do with my hands. They were in her hair, cupping her jaw, holding her hips. Roaming like I’d discovered a brand-new texture and I wanted to fucking memorize it. Commit the shape of her to my muscle memory.
As if she had the same thought, she ran those sharp red fingernails down my chest to my stomach, my entire torso tightening like a bungee cord ready to snap. I was swollen to a point in my pants, not hiding in the slightest behind the fabric. Her gaze lingered there as her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “Touch it.” The deepness of my voice demanded her attention. “Take it out for me, O.”
Folding my fingers over the back of hers and showing her exactly how I liked my dick to be held. “Nice and slow, sweetheart.” Together we gripped me at the base and stroked. I squeezed her fingers harder as they reached the tip and let out a needy, brutish grunt.
I leaned down and whispered against the shell of her ear, “I’m going to put all this cock inside you.” “Frankie…” “Tell me you’ve never had one this big.” I helped her stroke me again. Her silence was all the confirmation I needed.
“Pull your panties down,” I directed as I helped myself out of my worn, plaid bottoms. I sprung free of my briefs and her attention followed. She did as I asked, as perfect as ever. I wanted to make her feel so good for that. Keeping me guessing outside the bedroom, but letting me own her in every possible way when it was just the two of us alone. She tossed her lacy thong off the bed and spread her legs wide open for me. And God strike me dead, if that wasn’t the prettiest fucking pussy I’d ever seen. Plush, wet, perfect. The sexiest patch of curly hair pointing me right where I wanted to be.
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O dropped her head back on the pillows in anguish, but her hand lingered between her legs, fingers circling her blushing, swollen peak. I gnawed on my knuckle. “Jesus fuck, you’re driving me crazy.” She arched her back, sliding her sparkly red fingernail all the way down to her opening, and dipping it inside. “Shit,” she gasped. “Ophelia,” I growled in warning. “I’m on the pill.”
Not only that, but her chances of me blowing my load too soon—which, judging by the way my dick was spasming watching her finger herself—was very likely to happen. She might be on the pill, but that wasn’t foolproof. “You gotta give me five minutes,” I begged. She sat up, removing her top and unclasping her bra, tossing it hastily to the floor. My eyes fluttered shut at the sight. I jumped her, pushing up between her legs, grabbing her wrists and pinning them to the mattress on either side of her head. The box spring creaked under the weight of us. Nose to nose, I mumbled against her lips,
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“Cap, help me out.” I paced in a short circle, scratching the back of my neck, willing my erection to calm the fuck down before I offered Mateo more ammo to give me shit for the rest of my life. It was only a minute but it felt like thirty when the door opened and my best friend peeked a squinty eye out. “What the fuck do you want?” “Condom. Now.” His squinty eye opened all the way and his grumpy expression lifted. “You getting laid, brother?” “Listen, I don’t have time for fucking tea and biscuits. There’s a naked bombshell of a woman sprawled out in my bed right now, and I need a rubber
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