by Tracy Ellen
I’d gone from never having sleepovers in years to waking up two days in a row next to the same man- the second time appearing to be a veritable pajama party.
Last I remembered I’d been listening to the girls debating the perfect crime disposal method of a butchered body (namely Cheryl Crookston) while I was industriously licking chocolate frosting off my fingers. We were sprawled on the sofas after getting smoked out of the dining room. I had no desire to play poker last night. After sitting restlessly for a few minutes with the boys, I’d forced the girls to come with me into the living room. They wanted to protect me and keep me indoors; they could damn well follow where I lead.
We’d raided Reggie’s closet for T-shirts to sleep in. The girls also borrowed boxers that I hoped were joke gifts Reg had received. I didn’t want to think my brother would seriously wear a pair of undies that said, “Here pussy, pussy” across the front. My borrowed shirt hit my knees, so I’d skipped the boxers. We’d arranged pillows and blankets on the sofas. We found a fan to drown out the poker playing noise and cracked a window to get some fresh air. After arming ourselves with beers for Tre and Jazz, a hard cider for me, filling a bowl full of potato chips, and snagging the whole pan of black frosted brownies, we were ready for a slumber party.
I must have been more exhausted from all the fun events of the day than I realized. I hadn’t moved a muscle when Luke had joined me on my makeshift bed. I’d missed knowing I had been horizontal with him all night. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t woken me up. Also, several people had to know he thought he had the right to sleep with me. That was part of the reason I wasn’t my usual chipper self.
Another reason was thinking over the text I’d received last night from Mike McClain. I had no idea what could be so important that he needed five minutes of my time. We’ve had no contact for years, so what could possibly be of any significance between us at this point? I wasn’t happy with the cryptic drama of his message, but I figured I’d hear him out if it didn’t inconvenience me. I didn’t want the man in my life, but I was way over any feelings for him other than indifference.
I was also ornery knowing I had to deal with Candy on my weekend off. I didn’t go looking for confrontations, but I wouldn’t back down from one either. She wasn’t getting away with stealing the gun from my apartment, fortuitous or not. She’d probably continue trying to avoid seeing me, yellow-bellied coward that she was, but I didn’t want to put it off. Since I wasn’t chasing her down, I had to orchestrate a meet. It made sense it would need to be at the family dinner tonight. She’d smugly think there was safety in such numbers and that I’d be too busy being hostess with the mostest to get her.
This made me think about her hook up at Luke’s last night. Again, not an enticing image anytime, but especially bad before the morning caffeine. Maybe I’d ask Luke to bring his weekend guest, John the Fuck-and-Runner, to liven things up tonight. I’d sic Jaz and Tre on him.
That thought alleviated a little of my crabbiness.
Then thinking about The Hammer possibly hunting me, even as I lay here, spiked the cranky levels back up again.
I carefully turned around in Luke’s arms and faced my sneaky prince. I propped up my head with my left arm and studied his sleeping form in the soft light from the lamp. Our blanket was pulled partially up to his waist, but one muscular leg stuck out over both of mine. He had on a T-shirt and undecorated boxers. The white shirt was in stark contrast to his dark skin and the light trail of silky black chest hair revealed by the V neckline. I could see the brown, flat discs of his nipples clearly through the thin fabric. Even in repose, his biceps were cut with muscle. I clutched the bottom hem of my shirt to stop myself from reaching my free hand up to trace their outline.
Being infatuated can be explained as an actual biochemical reaction occurring in the body. But if I found out that I also suffered from the ongoing, extreme reactions the psycho-babblers termed Limerence; it would be the last straw. I’d commit the Hokey-Pokey, Hari-Kari hands down versus mooning endlessly over Luke the way I was right now. Even his short beard was a turn on to me, and I hated beards.
“What are you looking at, Princess?” Luke asked softly without opening his eyes. I smiled at his use of my royal title, so in tune with my own thoughts of him a moment ago.
“Please, it’s Princess Ruffles,” I whispered in correction.
On the floor behind me were wild thrashing noises. Sam Sheedy gasped, choked, and snorted like a huge pig at the trough before groaning and falling back asleep.
Eyes still closed, Luke swore succinctly. “That prick kept me up all night.”
I smiled and leaned back. I gave in and trailed my hand up his arm. “So, you can see with your eyes closed? What else do you have? X-ray vision?”
Luke opened one eye and squinted down the length of my body. His hands tightened on my hips, squeezing. “Yes, Princess Muffles, I can see through your shirt. It’s useless as cover. Take it off.”
I didn’t take it off, but I did slowly lift the thin material up high in the front, so that I wasn’t the only one doing some endless, infatuated mooning.
“It’s Ruffles, Princess Pink Ruffles, to be precise.” I then answered his original question, “I was just looking at you. I like you in a beard and longer hair.”
I left my shirt hiked up while I trailed my fingers lazily down from his arm and over my exposed bare breasts. My thumb lightly brushed over a soft nipple and I felt the tip hardening. “I’ve been wondering why you are looking so…drug dealerish since I saw you last.”
Luke’s focus was concentrated solely on watching my wandering, plucking fingers when he murmured absently, “I needed to look like a dirtbag for a couple of weeks.” He took his left hand off my hip and rested it on his thigh. “Have I told you lately how much I love how you mind me, Princess Fink Ruffles?”
“Mmm…Dirtbag, it’s Pink, not Fink. Is this what you had in mind for me?” My fingers continued playing over my skin. They strolled unimpeded down my side, and spread across my stomach before moving lower. I lingered along the top of the narrow strip of tight silk barely deserving the name panty. I stroked one finger leisurely up and down the middle of my lips. I allowed my long fingernail to slip under the edge, and then paused.
My voice was low, “Of course you got the bad guys.”
“Don’t stop. I want to see you touch yourself.”
I waited. A few beats of silence later he answered, “Yes. Of course I got the bad guys.”
I smiled a little at his arrogant, impatient murmur. I dipped my finger all the way under my panty and lightly petted myself.
I wiggled my hips a fraction.
Luke moved his heavy leg off mine, stretching out full length on his side and facing me with his back against the sofa. Freed, I lifted my right leg slightly, sliding my foot up the sheet covered cushion towards my left knee. Luke decided I needed to move my leg higher. He put a hand around my ankle and brought my foot up, planting it flat above his slightly bent knee. The draping blanket covered me completely along my backside and raised leg. It created our own little world. As long as we were quiet and moved slowly, nobody would know what we were doing.
Luke’s other arm under me glided down. His hand started caressing and kneading my ass with strong fingers. Then I felt those long fingers reaching. They slipped under my panties and touched me from behind. He began rubbing my wetness over my own finger stroking deeper between my parted legs. I moved the tiny swatch of silk to the side, so Luke could see how well I was minding him.
Luke glanced up from staring between my thighs and smiled lazily. “You’re right. It is Princess Pink Ruffles.”
I had to close my eyes and suck on my bottom lip to keep my answering, moaning laugh contained. My left hand clutched onto Luke’s arm. It was maddening having to hold my hips perfectly still to avoid detection. Every instinct was clamoring to rock and writhe against the fingers rubbing and flickering over Queen Victoria. Like good managers everywhere, I believe firmly
in immediate feedback. I have been known to tell Luke if I like his performance on the job by screaming and cursing his name to the heavens, or threatening horrific consequences if he stopped.
I stayed quiet even when Luke started doing my third, or maybe fourth, most favorite thing in the world; he began toying with my breasts with his other hand not busy between my legs. Without haste, he ran the back of his hand over my stiffened nipples. He languidly teased, and then captured one distended point between two fingers. I somehow remained silent, but I couldn’t help arching my back for more when those fingers tightened their grip. His clever fingers pinched and pulled one erect peak and then moved to the other, each time squeezing a little harder and tugging a little farther. I swear the man has magic fingers; he touched me precisely how I desperately needed it, even before I knew I did.
Call me weak, but when Luke’s finger down below started dipping and circling, and then slowly penetrated from behind in my tied-for-third-place favorite move; I did moan softly in the back of my throat. It was torturous ecstasy. I went AWOLing. I thought hazily if there truly was a God; men would have been given three hands.
I didn’t think my low moan was noticeable over the noisy snores from the floor behind us. When Luke added a second, large finger while his wonderfully intuitive thumb stayed busy, my louder moan was in sync with some loud choking and gasping from Sam.
I slipped my hand out from inside my panties and into Luke’s tented boxers. My hand could only form a C around his hard on instead of an O, but I could live with that problem.
When I pulled his eager penis out to play through the front panel of his boxers, I smiled with empathy into his eyes at his tense expression. He was having a great time, too, trying not to move against my firm grip and slow wrist action.
Looking down, the creamy drop glistening on the tip of his cock beckoned. I massaged it all over while pulling on the thick head. I stroked around the rim, and under. I love how Luke’s penis felt like hot, silky velvet sheathed over the hardness of steel.
Luke’s hand left off fondling my breasts and glided under the covers to join the other cupping my ass. Both hands explored and fondled QV from behind; his two lubricious fingers inside me moving to the slow rhythm of my fist moving up and down on him.
He drew me up against his lounging body stretched out along the sofa. With my leg canted up on his thigh, the hard length of his erection in my hand was added to the mix of his fingers and thumbs. Forehead tilted against mine, it took Luke only a few deliberate, rubbing strokes for the friction against my clit to send me on my way to orgasm heaven. Tingling, I stiffened. Clenching spasmodically around his fingers, I tried not to cry out, tried not to move. Luke kissed me with a deep thrust of his tongue. The rippling waves of pleasure kept building throughout my body, even as I craved to feel the large fingers inside me replaced with his thicker, much larger erection.
My mind-reading consort was still on my wavelength. He pulled his fingers out from inside me to tightly grip my bottom. He entered me, slowly thrusting in and out, until he worked fully inside me. Then he stopped. I groaned against Luke’s mouth at the incredibly tight, stretched almost-too-full sensation that was exactly what I desired. The waves peaked and crested. I came and came gloriously around him buried deeply inside me.
He growled low in my ear, “The feel of you gripping and clenching around my dick is driving me crazy.”
Luke and I froze at the same moment. We both reared back a few inches to stare into each other’s faces in mutual, shocked disbelief. He was inside me to the hilt, skin on skin and unprotected.
I couldn’t tell from Luke’s still face and quickly lowered eyes what he was thinking, but I was dazed and freaked. I had never allowed a man’s penis to penetrate Vicky unprotected, not even as a virgin queen with Mike McClain. I hadn’t been kidding when I said I wasn’t a trusting soul and was never that young or that innocent.
Sam Sheedy chose that inopportune moment to erupt on the floor like the reenactment of Mount Vesuvius destroying Pompeii.
Jazy sat up and threw her pillow at him while shouting, “THAT’S IT! I have had it, you damn, snoring fuckhead! Wake up, Tre! Come on, we are leaving this hell-hole!”
My sister stood up and swiped a kick at the spluttering, befuddled Sam in his sleeping bag. She grabbed her things off the end table and marched off down the hall towards the bathroom, yelling over her shoulder, “Anabel, get up. We’re out of here in five!”
I quickly pulled my long T shirt down in front as best I could. Luke’s face was against my neck. His shoulders silently shook, while his dick still throbbed inside me and his hands squeezed my ass as he held me close.
I didn’t know if he was laughing or crying, but flustered, I pushed at his shoulder. I hissed under my breath, “I can’t believe we did that. Let me go!”
His hair was a disheveled mess from my hands. His sensual mouth was twisted with sexual frustration, but as Luke leaned back, the eyes that met mine were tear-free and lit with laughter. He slid his hands up from under the covers and respectably cupped my shoulders. With a smile as slow as his withdrawal, Luke didn’t take his eyes off my face as he pulled out of me inch by inch. Hands clasping his forearms, I closed my eyes and went still at the sensation. The receding aftershocks of my personal seismic activity continued to shake me up inside. It caused me to clench and grip him harder, instinctively wanting him to stay put.
“Stop it, Anabel,” he ordered softly on a laughing groan.
“No,” I murmured, not opening my eyes.
Tre J sat up, swinging her legs to the floor and pulling the blanket over her lap. Yawning wide she asked, “What’s going on? Was that Jazy yelling or was it a dream?”
As Luke circumspectly adjusted his boxers, Sam sat up right behind me.
“That’s what I want to know! I was sleeping when she woke me up with her bitching.” Affronted, he whined, “Can you believe she kicked me?”
I slid up to a sitting position until my back was leaning on the rolled armrest of the sofa. Luke sat up beside me and brought his longer legs to the floor beyond the end of Sam’s sleeping bag below us.
“Hey, watch what you say about my sister. You’re lucky I don’t kick you, too, the way you snore like a banshee.” I threatened Sam without heat, lazily aiming my foot at his shoulder while running my hands through my hair and working out the tangles.
Sam avoided my foot and glared at me. “What? You women are nuts. I don’t snore!”
I raised my brows.
He was starting to protest more volubly when he caught sight of Luke’s hand slicing the air. Correctly reading the dark look on his face, Sam Sheedy wisely decided to shut up. I was going to have to learn that part karate chop-part snarl move for at the store with unruly customers.
Tre J went for her turn in the bathroom when Jazy opened the door and came out. Jaz was dressed and no longer resembled the scary Medusa of a few minutes ago.
I got up on my knees and reached over the back of the sofa to close the open window letting in the draft of cold air. I turned back and caught Jazy flipping off Sam Sheedy before continuing her way into the kitchen. My little sis was definitely the grudge holder in the family.
Unable to avoid it any longer, I looked over at Luke.
We stared at each other warily without speaking. Sam stood up, and grumbling under his breath, gathered his belongings. We were alone a minute later when he stomped off to wait his turn in the hallway for the bathroom.
Silently, Luke put on his jeans. Looking down to fasten his belt he said gruffly, “Listen, about…,” he straightened up and made a waving motion at his groin area, “earlier. That’s never happened before, but I’m okay with it. We should probably talk about some things.” His face was serious when he met my eyes. “I trust you.”
My amazed, “Really?” burst out before I thought to stop it.
Luke’s eyebrows were meeting in a black frown when the door to the upstairs opened and Reggie came whistling into the livin
g room.
“Good morning, friends and family! Looks like those dickheads got the weather report wrong again; there is not one flake of snow outside. Frigging unbelievable, isn’t it? To get paid the big bucks to be so routinely wrong.”
My brother wakes up like me; disgustingly, cheerfully chipper in the dawns early light. Or more accurately, like I used to wake up.
“Junior, when do you want to get going? Jazy said I have first shift, so my Sunday is cleared to make sure you don’t get murdered today before three o’clock.”
I was grateful for Reg’s typical bull-in-the-china-shop entrance. I was touched he was going to keep me from dying, at least during first shift.
I jumped up eagerly and scrambled into my slacks. I’d go anywhere at this particular moment to avoid talking with Luke. It didn’t take a genius to get he might be feeling a tad disappointed with me again. I had inadvertently implied he couldn’t trust me. I was too confused over my own actions and feelings to want to get into it now.
Reaching on the floor for my purse, I opened an inside compartment.
I answered my brother, equally chipper, “I’m ready to go when you are, Reg. I have a ton of stuff to do this morning at home.” I babbled on, “Except for needing to make a grocery grab, my plan is to stay home today. If you want, we can hang out at the apartment and watch football this afternoon.”
Reg was taken aback at my enthusiasm to get going so fast, but his expression showed immense relief at my proposed plans. “Sure, I’ll need a little time to do a couple things, but then we’ll go. An afternoon of football sounds better than a sharp stick in the eye.”
Eyeing him thoughtfully, I realized I should have led him on first and said I wanted to go shopping at the Mall of America. I really was rattled. I popped a piece of cinnamon gum into my mouth. It would have to do until I got home to my shower and toothbrush.