Hilariously Ever After

by Penny Reid

  “Plus, I just feel like I won’t be able to really write about the places they spent their last days unless I’ve been there. Pictures on the internet don’t do much as far as ambience, you know, and I am hoping my book will be more interesting than a textbook. So I need those descriptions. What it smells like, how the air feels on your skin. And who knows what I can find over there? People discover pictures and letters in old archives all the time. Could you imagine finding something no one knew existed?”

  “Wow,” was all I could say. It was like Hot Marc had just cracked open and showed me Passionate Marc had been hiding inside all along. Now I not only had the guilt over not asking about his work, but also about assuming that he must be a fairly boring guy to want to spend his life teaching history.

  Smart and funny, but without much of an inner life. He’d told me himself he was beige.

  But this? He was spending his life chasing stories. That was—well, maybe history wasn’t as dry as the few classes I’d taken had led me to believe. Maybe our passions had more in common than I’d given them credit for.

  “So it isn’t really a bangcation,” I said. Because all those deep thoughts about not knowing who he really was until that point had just stirred up my jealousy over the hypothetical French girls all over again. They’d all be bowled over by his little speech about this. He’d be positively dripping in Parisian women. I imagined him in a library, poring over records while willowy Gallic beauties danced for him in nothing but expertly tied silk scarves.

  “Well. I’m hoping for a few extracurriculars.” He winked at me, and tossed a couple of filets in a skillet. I was going to fictionally murder every single extracurricular, I swear I was.

  “So your meetings…?” I was ready to get back to the subject.

  “Were all good news! I got approved for a grant through the university. Local history isn’t the easiest thing to get money for, but a big foundation in town that’s been working with veterans showed some interest, and one thing led to another. They contacted the World War One Museum at the Liberty Memorial, and I’m going to be working with the curators on a special exhibit. It’s basically guaranteeing my employment. Plus, I won’t go totally broke over there.”

  “Holy shit!” I said. And really, holy shit! My screwmate was a damn onion. So many layers to him. He was so much more than a pretty face. How incredibly sexy. “Uh, cheers to that?”

  He clinked me, and flipped the steaks.

  “I’m feeling really good about it. And really guilty about leaving my mom.” I watched him visibly droop a little as he said it, and all my vicious little jealousies went away in favor of consoling him.

  “Is she—was she happy for you?” Of course she was happy for him. Stupid question.

  “She didn’t really say anything, actually. She just gave me the vegetables and sent me home.” Well, just a tactless question, then. Damn. I had no idea what to say. If it wasn’t a mistake, and I told my mom that my comic was getting thousands of views a day, she’d be thrilled for me. But then, of course, she’d go look at it and I could not have that. The whole upside-down sex position thing, for one.

  But it was a mistake. I was dead certain.

  I walked over to the cabinet and pulled a couple of plates out. We’d been talking so much our glasses didn’t even need refills. Perhaps that was part of the drinking problem then, too. We mostly just chitchatted in between gulps, but doing it the other way around was far more productive.

  “I bet she just needs some time to adjust.” I let my hand rest on his shoulder as I set the plates near him. He covered my hand with his briefly and I closed my eyes to capture the moment.

  Then it was gone, and he was plating our dinner. It was quite a spread, too. Salad, sautéed peppers and okra, and roasted beans all surrounded perfectly brown-crusted filets. Just a garden dinner. Good grief. He’d even set a couple of candles on the table—from his mother’s workshop, no doubt, because they smelled of lavender and vanilla. Would there be no end to the things I was learning about Marc? As I cut into my perfectly-cooked meat, I had to wonder.

  If he had any idea what a catch he was, why would he be wasting his time on me? I was just a girl too anxious to gain any real life experience, coloring pictures for the internet in my room.

  But after taking my first bite of garlicky buttery goodness, I found it hard to worry about anything except how quickly I could shovel it all in. I didn’t even think I liked green beans, but whatever magic they’d been cooked with turned them into something truly glorious.

  “Marc. You may have missed your calling. Leave history in the past, and cook for your future,” I told him between swoons.

  “Your standards are low, Miss Cereal for dinner,” he chuckled. “Wanna throw a movie on?”

  Obviously I did, because movies are the very best way to spend an evening, and I was pleased he’d thought of dessert all by himself. I had a fresh box of Lucky Charms Oops All Marshmallows just waiting for this occasion. After I successfully resisted licking my plate, I grabbed the bottle of wine and headed to my poor cuckolded couch to flip through the available movie options. The bottle was surprisingly heavy—I could hardly believe how restrained we were.

  This was a truly grown-up evening. The choice of movie was where I stumbled. Even though I was certain I could find an action movie based on a cartoon we’d agree on, it just didn’t seem like the right vibe for the evening. But then, neither did a romantic comedy.

  The screen was flipping through the “Recommended For You” options when Marc came over and sat down next to me. Not on the other end of the couch, but right next to me, close enough for me to see his biceps ripple as he pointed at the screen.

  “Full disclosure. I kind of wanted to see that, but I wasn’t about to ask Ava to go with me, and there’s not a man I know who’d do that instead of Poker Night.” I followed the line of sight and was utterly shocked and scandalized to see that the movie in question was none other than Fifty Shades of Grey. He might not have asked Ava, but I was one hundred percent texting this in my update to the girls later.

  “I didn’t see it either,” I admitted. “Although I am fairly certain Scarlett and Ava went four times. And I know for a fact that Lizzie owns it.”

  “Why didn’t you go?” he asked. It was a fair question. One that deserved a fair answer. And it was embarrassing, so I did actually refill my glass before saying it out loud.

  “I knew my friends would all call me Anastasia afterwards,” I said in a hurry.

  “I don’t get it.” The opening credits had started already, a rainy day in Seattle that was exactly as many variations on the hue as advertised.

  “You will.” At first I was silent because I didn’t want to say any more. Then I was silent because I was utterly enchanted. The girl I didn’t want to be compared to because she was inexperienced and a little dumb? Well, it turned out she was actually quite intelligent and very funny to boot. I watched, mouth open, as she wove her spell around the hapless Mr. Grey. But when he took her into his special sexy room, I was truly floored.

  It was flipping hot.

  My suspicion was that Marc felt the same way, because his hand had inched over to sit on top of my thigh, and seemed to involuntarily tighten several times during the scene. My pulse sped up in response. How could just a simple touch on just a few square inches affect me every part of me so much? Especially that part.

  It wasn’t even skin on skin. And then it was, because he’d turned my head to face him with his hand, and pulled me in. Kissing Marc, sober, while dramatic music played in the background was a whole different ballgame.

  It was slow, and sweet. It was the kind of kiss that made me think he felt like it was different, too. It was the kind of kiss that told me tonight was the night.

  Fucking finally.

  Chapter 11

  We made out for what felt like years, just there on the couch. I forgot all about the movie, and focused purely on the sensations of his hand stroking my cheek bef
ore moving back to run through my hair. My scalp tingled at his touch, sending shivers down the back of my neck and all the way to the base of my spine. It fell somewhere on the scale between sensual and comforting. The feeling of his soft lips on mine tipped that scale straight into the sexy zone.

  I could taste the wine in his mouth, and damned if I didn’t believe it was the most delicious cabernet I’d ever had. Who needed taste descriptors when you had the gentle pressure of his tongue?

  I nipped his bottom lip and he most definitely had his scale tipped too. And then both of us were tipping, as his chest pressed against mine, his other hand snaking around my back, and then I was beneath him.

  I hoped it wasn’t too weird for my other man the sofa.

  But there was no time to dwell on that thought, because did I mention his chest was pressed against me? His rock-hard, gorgeous chest. Only a thin layer of Adventure Time patterned cotton separated it from me. That was not cool, so I wriggled a little to let my shirt ride up. Then his stomach was flat on mine, burning up hot.

  Granted, my experience was limited, but I was absolutely certain that Marc was the world’s best kisser. One could even call it his superpower. He kept mixing it up, varying the pattern and pressure. Every time I thought I knew what he was going to do next, he’d surprise me. It was, I was learning, Marc’s little secret. Under that boring, beige exterior lurked a very colorful person. He might not even know that about himself, I thought.

  Then he nipped my lip and I understood why he’d reacted that way to me. I pressed into him, my pelvis rocking of its own accord. He rocked back, and I could feel that it was only a few layers of cotton separating us there, too. It was, as the kids say, on like Donkey Kong.

  Somehow in the midst of all that kissing, it must have occurred to him how much better it would feel if it wasn’t just our stomachs touching. He pulled back and I moaned in disappointment, but he was just pulling my shirt over my head. Never have I been more happy not to have been wearing a bra. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen my boobs before. But the look on his face when tossed my top aside was like—well, it was like those undiscovered archives in France had been hiding under my shirt the whole time.

  What on earth is a bigger turn on than seeing a man brought to his knees at the sight of your B cups? Watching the way he devours them, that’s what. It was my turn to run my fingers through his hair as he applied all the same kissing skills to my nipples, one at a time.

  I ran one of hands down to his back, curling my fingertips in just a little. When he nipped me that time, I almost went through the roof. It took a second before I was able to unclench my fingers. On his back, I’d drawn five bright red lines with my nails.

  Good. I liked seeing my artwork on his body.

  “Holy cats, Marc,” I murmured. His soft chuckle sent another layer of sensation straight into my core.

  “You like that?” he asked.

  “Um, yes.” So dirty talking wasn’t my strong suit. If he kept sucking just like that, I wouldn’t be able to talk at all for much longer. I didn’t recognize the noises coming out of my throat. With every pull of his mouth, I spiraled upwards, and when he bit gently for the last time—sweet baby Kal-el in a Kansan field. I came. And I came hard.

  I had literally no idea that was even possible.

  “Did you just…” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Was that weird? I barely ever even climaxed from sex with the last guy. It was weird.

  “That’s so fucking hot,” and then he moved up to cover my mouth with his again and I could feel just exactly how hot he thought it was. Oh.

  My turn.

  I rolled him over and scooted down, pulling his sweats along with me. His cock popped out, just as thick and long as I’d remembered. There was a glistening drop at the very tip, and I used my thumb to spread it as the rest of my hand engulfed him. The groan he gave made my inner walls clench again.

  Bracing my arm on the couch, I lowered my head and gave his crown a tentative lick. He groaned even louder. Licking my lips, I sucked the entire head into my mouth while jacking his shaft. If it’s possible, he got even harder. I glanced up. My eyes met his, noticing how dark they were, the way he bit his lip and tried to still his hips.

  I was pretty sure I could take more of him.

  So I moved my hand down to his base and let my lips follow. It took a second of deep breathing through my nose, but I was pretty sure any porn star would be proud of the blowjob I was giving him. And the noises he was making said Marc was pretty proud too. The most surprising part was how insanely turned on this was making me. I’d always thought of giving oral as a necessary evil, but this was some seriously good foreplay.

  My panties were soaked through. After a few more bobs, I swirled my tongue around, on, and over him one final time and crawled back up to his strong arms.

  “That was amazing,” he whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I agreed; the couch had seen far too much already. It only took a second to get into his room, and then I let him climb into bed first. There was something he needed to see. I hooked my thumbs around the waistband of my Cartoon Network pajama bottoms like a stripper, turned around, and slowly bent over as I slid them down to my ankles. His intake of breath said that I’d done it right.

  Thank Odin I’d thought to put on one of the silky thongs from our shopping trip this morning. He hopped out of bed too, but only for a second. I squealed as he picked me up and tossed me onto the pillows. He moved back onto the bed, resting back on his heels between my legs.

  “Madison…” he trailed off as he stared at me. It was a pivotal moment. I was never, ever going to be the kind of girl who spent her time wondering what a guy was going to think of what she wore, or looked like, or did. But in that moment, seeing the way he reacted—well, I became the kind of girl who would always spend good money on fancy undies. And then, when it was his head that lowered with my hand tentatively resting on it, well.

  Well.

  I could never draw the things he did to me down there. I’d be arrested for indecency. Luckily, I can still say them. I had thought Marc was a good kisser. Then I thought those things translated to my breasts. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for what came next.

  Day-old stubble rubbed against my inner thighs. The sensation was half sexy and half painful—was this why movies like Fifty existed to begin with? It made sense now.

  He leaned in and I held my breath. I had spent so much time imagining this moment. And it was about to happen. Thank god Marc was a giver, I just couldn’t have lived in a world where he didn’t reciprocate. He kissed the inside of my thigh, and then the other, and then that soft, delicate crease where my thigh and mound met. I waited, still breathless, at the possibility of what this would feel like, how it would live up to my fantasies.

  Everything hinged on the next ten seconds. My faith in humanity. Whether fairy tales were true. Unicorns. Fairy dust. Multiple orgasms.

  Imagine my joy when all of the above came to life and sprinkled glitter around. Metaphorically, of course. But when the heat of his breath hit that crazy sensitive spot right on the tip of my clit that peeked out from my lower lips—I convulsed. He was everything I hoped he would be and more. His tongue swiped up the scrap of silk covering my sex. It pulled some up, so that I felt the drag of him licking me on either side of the fabric even as the silk tugged on my clit.

  It had never occurred to me that romance books weren’t full of hyperbole. So when I actually screamed, not just a really loud moan, but a high-pitched scream… My second orgasm of the night was stifled by his hand, as his mouth covered my entire pussy.

  Weirdly, even though I was the one who was coming down from her second orgasm, Marc was the one who couldn’t seem to control himself. He all but ripped off the underwear he’d thankfully paid for. I lay before him, completely bare. Even though I’d been in this position before, somehow I felt both more and less naked than I’d ever been. More, because I’d never b
een quite as at the mercy of anyone else. Less, because it still didn’t feel uncomfortable. Something about me and my roomie just seemed right.

  Luckily, orgasming twice so quickly numbed me a little bit to his ministrations, otherwise I probably would have fainted when he licked me up and down as slowly as possible. The tip of his tongue rolled around my clit.

  I couldn’t catch my breath; the sensations kept rolling through me like thunder.

  First he’d flick me gently with the very tip of his tongue, then he’d swipe me with the flat of it. Just when I thought I couldn’t handle the varying pressures any more, he thrust two fingers deep inside me.

  The shock was quickly overwhelmed by the pleasure. Instead of moving out and in, he moved his fingers over and over each other, almost vibrating inside me.

  It wasn’t until my whole body was vibrating that he started to slowly push his fingers in and out. All the while, he carefully tongued me. It took several excruciatingly delicious moments, but I came for him again. As the aftershocks racked my body, he scooted up to cradle me through them.

  “I…” he trailed off. I knew what he meant though, cause me…

  “Yeah,” I agreed, breathless.

  It didn’t take long for him to find the condom this time, and obviously no one was going to risk me killing the mood trying to fumble it on. In no time flat, I could feel the nudge of Marc’s cock at my center. I was too wet to keep him waiting, but neither of us pushed. He just slowly moved forward, and I slowly rocked back against him, and every inch that entered me felt like heaven.

  When he was filling me completely, we both took a deep breath, then he slid all the way out.