Shortcake

by Lucy Watson

Ben raises his arm in a silent invitation. Is he hallucinating? Am I? Both are plausible at this point. He gives a deep grunt for me to hurry because his arm’s getting tired. Yes, I speak Caveman now. I move under his arm, stealing a few pillows for my back, and retake my position. Except now his head is resting on my lower stomach instead of my vagina. Not that that’s any better. It might even be worse.

“I’m fucked.” I think I hear him curse under his breath before he grips my chin, tilts it up, and gives me a quick angry kiss, then grabs my hand and leads me out of my tiny home. 17 Back on the Saddle It

If Ben’s in the room, we go boom.