Dewey Belong Together

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Dewey Belong Together Page 12

by Smartypants Romance


  I shut the projector and Blu-ray player down and put the screen back up with the remotes while Wrath lifted my feet and put them back on the floor. Wrath then did the strangest thing. He scooted over on the couch until he was right next to me and brought his hand up to cup my cheek, his other hand tucking my hair behind my ear, like he’d done earlier.

  “Would it unnerve you if I told you that seeing the excited expressions on your face while you watched Pokémon turned me on? That you looked so beautiful, it was all I could do to wait until the end to kiss you?”

  His eyes shone in earnest, and I saw a deep longing in them.

  “Unnerve me? No,” I replied, my heart beating faster and my pulse pounding in my ears.

  Did I want this? He stroked my cheek for another moment, then leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. Our mouths fused together, and it was so good, so much better than last time when I must have tasted of tequila and desperation. Now nothing was fogging my brain, and I could appreciate the strength of his hands, one on my back and the other in my hair; the soft groans he made as he took control and kissed the hell out of me.

  He held onto me, and after a bit of jostling where he almost fell off the couch—it wasn’t the widest sofa—he changed our positions so I was underneath him, his one hand still in my hair, the other supporting the bulk of his weight. His incredible scent was all around me, and he tasted like popcorn and salt. I supposed I did too. I followed his lead and got my hand into his hair. I carefully undid the ponytail tie so his hair fell down around me like a shiny black curtain. It was silky and smooth in my hand, and I reciprocated the little tugs he was giving to my hair, increasing the pleasure by adding a tiny bit of pain.

  I realized about thirty seconds into this position that he was purposefully holding his lower body up from mine, and honestly? Screw that noise. I reached down with my free hand and pushed on his lower back at the same time I thrust my hips upward. Our pelvic regions met in a delightful explosion of sensation, his hardness only a few layers of clothing away from meeting my wetness.

  "Max, wait," he said, gasping for air. "How far do you want to take this? I want to know while you are still clearheaded and not blinded by your insane lust for me."

  I laughed, and then hit him in the shoulder. "If anyone is lust-crazed around here, it's you. I don't know how those pants haven't split a seam yet."

  "I'm serious, Max, how far? What do you want from me?" His voice shook, and he leaned back down and nibbled on my neck for a second before getting a hold of himself and backing off again.

  I considered him and our situation. This was his last night here; he flew to Florida tomorrow late afternoon. If I wanted to be with Wrath, to see what we could be like, then this was my perfect opportunity.

  "Everything," I whispered into his ear. "I want everything from you." I found myself meaning it more than I'd meant anything in a long time.

  I gently pushed his shoulders backward, and he got up off me enough for me to sit up. I leaned in and kissed him, then stood and extended a hand, hoping like hell he would take it.

  He reached up and put his hand in mine, and it felt like fate. And sweat. He was all clammy, probably from nerves. Well, I wasn’t going to be nervous. I was going to enjoy this to the fullest possible extent. It had been ten years, and it suddenly felt like ten years too long. I led him to my bedroom, sparing a moment to be thankful I’d picked up the laundry and made the bed fresh that morning. As we crossed the threshold to the room, it hit me like a frying pan to the head—sex and Wrath. I was going to have sex with Wrath. My enemy for a decade, my most loathed opponent, had wormed his way into my affections and was about to get into my panties. Oh gods, did I choose a nice pair today, or did I toss on granny panties? My thoughts swiftly changed direction to relief when I remembered putting on the cute blue pair with the lace edging.

  “Max? You still okay?” Wrath asked. I stopped on our way to the bed and turned, shaking my head slightly.

  “It’s just, I don’t know if I can think of you as Wrath anymore. You’ve been Wrath to me for ten years, and in that time, I’ve hated you, I’ve been mean to you. And trust me, you were no prince to me all the time either. But looking back, I see you differently now. I see all the times you wanted my attention and had to fight for scraps of it. I see how we fell into patterns of you getting my attention when you did something to annoy me, so you annoyed me a lot. I can see how I stopped giving you chances to explain yourself back when you were still a teenager and never let you grow into a man in my eyes. And I never once asked you what was going on in your personal life when you behaved erratically. Instead I assumed you were being extra-jerky that day. So I don’t want to be Maximus_Damage and Wrath anymore. Not out of game. Not even in-game, between us. I want to be Max and Jonathan. Maxine, if you prefer.”

  He chuckled. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been calling you Max since I arrived here. And yeah, it wound up being a shortened version of both your names, but I was prepared to call you by anything you wanted. You’ve never been just the Maximus_Damage to me. You’ve always been Max, the person I’ve been crazy about.”

  I leaned up and kissed his cheek, and he was right—it was kissably smooth. I made a mental note to buy some Noxzema.

  “Thank you, Jonathan,” I whispered, and resumed our walk to my bed.

  When we reached the king-sized monstrosity, Jonathan stopped and stared. The bed took up almost the entire room, and I laughed at what he must be thinking.

  “I like to roll around,” I said defensively. “Trust me, if you decide you want to stay in here tonight, you’ll be glad you can get far away from me. I'm also a kicker in my sleep.”

  “Duly noted,” Jonathan said dryly. “Though, if I have my way, we won’t be doing much sleeping tonight.”

  I burst out laughing. “Dude, that was so cheesy. You’re a closet soap opera fan, admit it.”

  “Is Grey’s Anatomy close enough?” he asked, also laughing. “Look, my moves might be lame, but they’re what I’ve got to work with. I don’t think I have as much experience as you, to be honest, and I’m a little nervous.”

  “Trust me, you have nothing to be nervous about,” I said, looking him over from head to toe.

  I looked down at my own body, and a bloom rose to my cheeks. Why was I suddenly feeling anxious about my body? That wasn’t sexy. Jonathan may be the most perfect male I have ever seen outside of an underwear ad, but I was usually confident in my curves and swerves, at least in my own head. I know I hid them in frumpy clothes, but that had been an attempt to hide me as a whole, not my size. And there were the scars on my side. No one outside of a medical professional or my mom had seen those. Only momentarily thrown, I decided to screw anxious. I dropped his hand and grabbed the bottom of my top, pulling it up over my head and tossing it to the floor. He made a noise of appreciation as I went for my pants and undid the top button.

  “What are you staring at? Get busy, strip!” I said to him as I took one leg out of my pants, almost fell over, then recovered by catching myself on the bed. I gracelessly got both legs out of the pants and sat on the bed in my bra and panties, crossing my legs and waiting for him to join me.

  He stared at me, mouth slightly agape, and I saw his chest rise and fall quickly. Oh my god, was he having a heart attack? I leapt to my feet.

  “Jonathan, hey,” I said, taking his head in my hands. “Look at me. Everything is fine, okay? I’m going to take your pulse and check your blood pressure if that’s alright with you. I have a home monitor. Can you sit on the bed for me?”

  He nodded, sat down, and then said, “I’m not having a heart attack. You don’t have to give me a medical exam, though I can see the appeal under a role-playing scenario. I was just … thrown. By seeing how gorgeous you are, and that you were sitting there, waiting for me, after all of these years. Max, I finally got you, and so far it’s been better than my wildest—okay, maybe not my wildest—dreams. I think I started to have a bit of an anxiety attack. But I
’m … I’m feeling much better. You have magic hands.” He lifted my right hand to his mouth and kissed my palm.

  “Let’s get you undressed, and we can see how magic they are,” I teased, knowing the cheese factor would make him laugh.

  It did. I peeled his shirt off him and ran my hands over his tattoos, having been itching to get my hands on them since I first saw them. I then traced my fingers down his chest and over his abs, settling on the hard front of his pants.

  "Pants off. Now," I said almost breathlessly. I scooted up the bed to the pillows so I could lie down, and he quickly followed, undoing his pants as he shimmied up the bed.

  "Oh god, Max. You're so beautiful like this, sweetheart. May I touch you? Taste you?"

  He reached out to stroke my face, and I felt tears pricking at my eyes. I hadn't felt like this in a very long time, cherished, like I was something precious.

  "Yes," I whispered. "Please, Jonathan. I'm so ready."

  That smirk could not stay off his face as he reached down and yanked on my underwear, pulling them to one side so he could touch me. His finger found its way to my slick folds and he moved his finger up and down over my slit, making me dig my ankles into the mattress. He pushed one finger, then two, inside me, and I moved against the sensation, encouraging him with soft moans and the steady rocking of my hips. With his other hand, he pushed my bra up, freeing my breasts, and latched his mouth onto my nipple, sucking and biting until I was rocking my hips aggressively, impaling myself on his fingers and crying out at the sensation in my breast. It was too much, it was perfection, it was everything. It was us. And as I climaxed, I breathed out "Kiss me," and he complied. I moaned my pleasure into his mouth and felt so free of my inhibitions that I never wanted this thing between us to stop.

  He gently pulled his fingers from me, and I gasped when he put them in his mouth to suck off my juices. He then helped me take off my bra, slipped me out of my panties, and pulled down his boxer briefs.

  "Were you serious last night about having condoms? Because I don't have any." He sounded like he was hoping to the gods themselves my answer would be yes.

  "Yeah, I have a few in my purse, but there are more in there, in the bedside table drawer. They’re not expired, I keep them up to date. I guess hope springs eternal and all that."

  I closed my eyes to collect myself. I felt him move around and heard the opening of the drawer, then the crinkle of the foil packet. By the time he rolled back over to me and I felt his hardness poking into my hip, I was ready for round two. He leaned in and kissed me on the mouth gently at first, then with a possessive passion that had me panting hard again. I pulled on his shoulders and, getting the message, he climbed on top of me and reached his hand down, positioning himself at my center. We locked eyes and he pushed forward, his girth hurting a bit but definitely in a good way. When he was sheathed all the way inside, I let out a sigh of contentment, and he nuzzled into my neck.

  "God, it's never felt like this, Max. You feel so damn good. I never want to be anywhere else."

  I hummed in agreement, encouraging him to move with a slight push of my hips. He started thrusting in earnest. We moved together like we'd been doing this for years, with only a few missteps along the way. My breathing went ragged as he pushed me to higher states of sensation, and I hoped I was making it as good for him. I let out a cry as my second orgasm ripped through me, and he quickly followed, emptying into the condom, and sucking my breast.

  I was breathing heavily and felt like a limp rag. Jonathan collapsed on top of me, then rolled off as I groaned under his weight. He put his arms around me from the side and mouthed at my neck, his breath coming in short pants.

  “Max, that was …”

  “I know,” I said, snuggling into his side.

  “Before we get too comfortable, I’ll be right back,” he said and rose up off the bed, heading to the bathroom. I heard the taps run. He came back with a facecloth and wiped at my core where the lubrication from both myself and the condom had made a bit of a mess. I was touched by his consideration, and a scant minute later, he was back in bed with me, and wrapping me up in his arms.

  "If we don't get under these covers, we're going to get cold, fast," I said sleepily. He peeled back the blankets on the other half of the bed and scooted me over, tucking me in. He then climbed in and resumed holding me. All cuddled up in his warmth, I forgot how much I liked to roll in my sleep; I forgot I was a kicker. All I wanted was to fall asleep like this. So I did.

  Chapter 15

  Jonathan

  “Yo, Deathdrop! You wanna try playing Magecraft with me? Guilds hasn’t been fun since Maximus left.”

  ― Wrath

  * * *

  "Everything," she'd whispered in my ear. "I want everything from you.”

  I woke with the sweet memory of those words echoing in my brain, making me so happy I wanted to burst into spontaneous interpretive dance. Now, I know those words could have a broad meaning. She could have meant she wanted sex. However, in my mind, I was already picturing Lego-building super babies with excellent hand-eye coordination with my black hair and her greenish eyes. It wasn’t impossible, right? That we sleep together and she has an epiphany that we belong together, and romantic music swells in the background as we kiss in front of a water fountain as strangers break into song?

  Maybe I was getting ahead of myself, just a little bit.

  But what if I wasn’t? This could be a whole new beginning for Max and me. I moved as stealthily as I could so as not to wake her. The time on her alarm clock read 7:05 a.m. Perfect. I’d have time to get breakfast made before she woke. I hoped she liked French toast because it was one of the few breakfast foods I could manage on my own that looked and tasted awesome.

  I decided to skip a shower for now, hoping she might invite me for one with her later. After putting on the coffee. I started the bacon I found in her fridge, and mixed up the eggs with nutmeg, cinnamon, and a teeny splash of vanilla. Then the fun part, dipping the bread and frying it up. The house was smelling heavenly when I heard footsteps, and an appreciative noise, behind me. I turned, and there stood Max, wearing my T-shirt, little red panties, and nothing else. My fears that she was going to freak the hell out this morning in light of what we’d done evaporated as she made her way over to me in what I can honestly call an unsexy zombie-esque sleepy lurch, wrapped her arms around my torso, and put her head on my shoulder.

  “Mmm, this all looks and smells fantastic. And you even put on the coffee pot. I think I love you right now,” she said, pulling back and kissing me quickly on the lips.

  She opened the cupboard where she kept the mugs and asked me if I wanted a cup. I nodded, unable to speak. How could she be so cavalier with those words? I know she was just using an expression, she didn’t mean she was in love with me, but I was in love with her, dammit. Though she didn’t know that, did she? Because I’d been too much of a wimp to tell her. She knew about my “crush,” but that was it. I think I had a new mission today—tell Max the rest of the truth, whether it would freak her out or not.

  I finished preparing breakfast while she drank her coffee and viewed me appreciatively, distracting me now and then by kissing my back, my shoulder blades, my side. And that tickled too, darn it. But she was so playful, so sweet, how could I be mad? I was used to dealing with her while she was practically a harpy in-game.

  “Did they hurt? Your tats, I mean,” she asked out of nowhere as I plated up our food.

  “Of course they hurt. It’s a needle on a gun that shoots ink into your skin. It’s not fun, unless you’ve got a pain kink.” I carried our plates to the small table, and she carried our mugs. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I feel like doing something I’ve always wanted to do but never had the courage for,” she replied. “I’ve wanted a tattoo since I was a teenager, but I was always scared of the needle. But now I see your ink and how beautiful and badass it is, and I want that. I’ve wanted a sleeve on my left arm forever. And holy shit,
this is delicious.” The last line was spoken around a mouthful of French toast.

  I grinned at her and replied, “It better be. That’s my mother’s recipe.”

  We ate in a comfortable silence for a few moments.

  “Are you sure about a whole sleeve? That’s a lot to commit to. Why not start somewhere like high up on your arm and get one part of the sleeve, one image, that means a lot to you. And if you can handle the pain and like that end result, keep going. But don’t, and I mean don’t, pick your artist on a whim. You’ve got to get someone who knows what they are doing. Most artists will have an online portfolio for you to check out. Do your homework.”

  “Aye, aye, captain,” she said with a salute. “I wouldn’t feel entirely comfortable getting it done without you seeing the person’s portfolio anyway. You’d be able to judge better than me if they have what it takes to make something that looks as nice as yours. So, what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but never got around to or had the courage to do?”

  Tell you I love you, I thought. But another answer slipped out of my mouth. “Get a dog,” I replied.

  “A dog? What’s so hard about that? I can see you with a golden retriever puppy or a German shepherd puppy, and in my mind it’s adorable.”

  “My living situation wouldn’t allow for it,” I answered. It felt natural to be open about my personal life now. “I know I already told you I live with my mom. She’s not well, mentally. She has hypochondria, remember? That causes her issues like exhaustion, irritability, anxiety. She wouldn’t handle having a dog in the trailer too well. That’s the other part—the trailer. It’s smallish, and a puppy would tear through that place and get into everything. And I don’t want to leave the dog chained up outside all the time. So it wouldn’t be fair to the dog for me to adopt it. I’d be taking it into a home where it wasn’t wanted by everyone living there, and also possibly condemning it to a lonely life outside.”

 

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