He tried to flick me in the nuts, but I jumped back and countered with a solid slap upside the back of his head.
“Get me some cherry chunk,” he called after me.
I flipped him off over my shoulder as I walked to the door, opened it, and slammed it behind me.
Frustrated was a good word to use — sexually, emotionally, generally. I’d had a little taste of something that had consumed me like wildfire, and now that I was deprived of it, I felt wild. Feral. Like I’d crawl out of my skin if I couldn’t see her, smell her, touch her.
Even the thought of touching her had my johnson reacting.
Maddening, that was what it was.
I stepped out into the blazing summer afternoon, and my mood spoiled like rotten milk in the heat. I mean, why hadn’t she called? We’d spent an hour in the shower the last time I saw her and another hour in my room, in my bed, touching, talking, kissing. She’d made me feel so good, and I thought the feeling was mutual.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she was playing me.
Maybe I was just a fuck boy, someone whose body she could use.
The thought made me feel cheap. Cheaper still when I wondered how many guys out there had felt just like I did.
Maybe Jude was right and I needed a new plan. At what point should I stop waiting? At what point should I take action, and what could I do? Because one thing was perfectly clear.
I wanted to be with Penny in any context she would let me have her. But to be with her, I had to play by her rules even if I bent them to get my way. I wanted to win, and I wanted to win her.
There wasn’t much I could do besides texting, not without crossing the line. Showing up at her work would definitely be crossing the line. I could send her flowers at the tattoo parlor, but that would be way too big, too serious. I imagined her getting flowers from me and her eyes bugging out like I was psycho. Or worse — I imagined her laughing.
No. Definitely no flowers.
I huffed, running my fingers through my hair again, annoyed with myself for being so annoying. But I felt like an addict with no dealer, cracked out and irrational and driven to the point of desperation.
At that thought, I took a breath and told myself to ease up. The plan was to wait, so I’d wait.
She’d come around. My hope glimmered, revived by the thought. And when she did, I’d take advantage of every single second I had with her.
The bell over the shop’s door rang, and Ramona laughed.
“Penny, delivery.”
I glanced up from my desk in my booth to find a delivery guy looking around the room with a vase of flowers in his hand.
My heart shot into my throat.
Bodie!
Yeah, his name had an exclamation point in my head because I hadn’t stopped thinking about him for three full days and nights, and I was mildly — extremely — annoyed that he hadn’t texted me. Of course, I hadn’t texted him either.
The third date loomed, and I wanted to stave it off for as long as possible. I mean, until I couldn’t even stand it anymore. I was probably almost there because the thought of those flowers being from him made my vagina do stuff. Squeezy, clenchy stuff.
I hopped out of my seat and bounded to the delivery guy. “Are those for me?” I asked, grinning like a goddamn fool.
“If you’re Penny, yes, they are.”
I squealed and bounced on the balls of my feet. Every one of my co-workers watched me like I’d been possessed.
I had been. By Bodie’s dick and math jokes.
The delivery guy had me sign his little doohickey and handed me the flowers, which I promptly skipped over to the desk with, and Ramona and Veronica appeared by my side, eyeballing me.
“This is literally the first time I’ve ever seen you excited about getting flowers,” Ramona said incredulously.
Veronica watched me like my body had been snatched by an alien.
“They have to be from Bodie,” I said, digging through the rose blooms for a card. “He hasn’t even texted.”
“We know. You’ve only mentioned it every hour, on the hour, for three days.” Ramona patted my arm.
I found the card and plucked it out of the bouquet with an, Aha!, opening it with frantic fingers.
My stomach fell into my shoes with my smile.
“To Penny. Miss you. Consider my offer. Love, Brad,” I read aloud.
Veronica groaned. “Ugh, fuck you, Brad!”
I read it again, sure there was some mistake. “Brad? I haven’t even fucking seen that shithead in weeks, not since he asked me to move in with him. The curse of date three.” I picked up the bouquet by the vase and dropped it in the tall trash can behind the desk.
Ramona eyed them, torn. “Do you have any idea how expensive those are?”
I pointed at her. “Don’t you touch those. Those flowers are tainted by freaknut Brad and his inability to take a hint. Those flowers are from the wrong guy.”
I was whining, and I didn’t even care. I was way too butthurt to care.
“It’s not fair,” I said, bobbling a little.
Joel frowned at me from his station in the front of the shop before glancing at Veronica. “What’s the matter with her?”
She took my shoulders gently, angling me to him as I pouted. “Bodie hasn’t called her.”
“New fuckbuddy?” he asked.
“Doesn’t he like me?” I asked, my voice squeaky.
“I’m sure he does, honey,” Veronica cajoled. “Maybe you should just text him. You obviously want to see him again.”
I groaned. “I know, but it’s date three! And instead of turning into a pumpkin, he’s gonna turn into Brad.” I tossed a hand at the trashcan as if those flowers explained everything.
Joel sighed. “You like the guy, right?”
I nodded.
“Then fucking text him, you weirdo.”
“But what if—”
“Who cares? You want to see him, so see him. If it falls apart, deal with it.”
I was still pouting. “Why do you make everything seem so simple?”
“Because it is.” He rested his meaty, tattooed forearms on his knees and leaned toward me. “Listen, your afternoon job canceled, right?”
“Yeah,” I answered begrudgingly.
“It’s too hot in here, and your booth is the hottest in the shop. Go cool off. Cold shower. Ice cream. Something.”
“But what about the walk-ins?”
“Max is here for walk-ins. You just get outta here.” He jabbed a finger at the door with authority.
I sighed. “Fine. But only because you said ice cream, and that’s my weakness.” I could already taste the cold salted caramel on my tongue. This also made me a little sad — it reminded me of Bodie.
Who even ARE you right now?
I walked back over to my station to grab my bag, stopping by Veronica’s station next to Ramona, who leaned on the short wall.
“Just text him, Pen,” Ramona said. “You’ll feel better.”
I nibbled my bottom lip. “Even if he gets clingy? Even if he bugs out?”
She laughed and kissed me on the cheek on my way out. “Better him than you.”
I sighed and headed into the sweltering sun, slipping on my sunglasses.
My problem was this: I was obsessing.
I was so predictable, I could have been a fucking atomic clock. I’d always been this way, and it was one of the many reasons why I didn’t date. I didn’t like how I felt, which reaffirmed that the three-date rule was just as much for myself as it was for them. And here I was, after only two dates, already all itchy over Bodie. He was just so dreamy and funny and smart, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
All of this was dangerous.
Of course, it was entirely possible that I’d gotten weird simply because I was holding out. Maybe if I just ripped off the Band-Aid and saw him again, it would take care of itself. Once he got all gooey on me, I’d probably lose interest anyway.
That placating and naive thought pu
t a little spring in my Chucks and a smile on my lips.
We could have our last hurah and let the chips fall where they may. Let fate take its course. Which, in my experience, meant I’d be absolutely over him and ready for whatever was next.
My heart folded in on itself at the fleeting thought that it might be me who’d be gooey over him. But I waved my thoughts away like bumblebees after the honey pot and resolved to text him when I got home.
But when I pulled open the door of the ice cream parlor, I stopped dead in my tracks as a smile spread across my face like peanut butter on toast.
I didn’t have to text him after all because he was standing right in front of me.
His broad back was to me as he waited in line, peering into the cooler at the flavors on display.
I swear to God, my heart did a roundoff back handspring and stuck the landing as I walked up to him.
“If I went binary, you’d be the one for me,” I said as I brushed against his arm, my knuckles grazing his.
He whipped his head around, blue eyes bright. And when they connected with mine, his smile could have lit up midnight.
He let out a laugh. “That was a good one. I didn’t know you spoke nerd.”
I shrugged, smiling. “I don’t. I speak Google.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“Getting ice cream. Isn’t it obvious?”
Another laugh as the attendant asked him what he wanted.
Bodie turned to me. “Want to join me?”
“I’d love to.”
“Know what you want?”
“A scoop of salted caramel in a waffle cone, please.”
The attendant nodded and looked to Bodie.
“Mint chocolate, one scoop in a waffle cone too. Thanks.”
We stepped over to the register, and Bodie pulled out his wallet to pay.
“How’ve you been?” he asked, the question tight from hiding another — Why haven’t I heard from you?
But I smiled. He was still interested, and that right there was proof.
“I’ve been good, just working a lot. You?”
“Same. Jude kicked me out since I hadn’t seen daylight in days. It’s too hot to go outside without the promise of the ocean or ice cream.”
We were handed our ice cream cones and turned to find the inside of the shop packed.
I frowned. “Way too hot, but outside we go.”
He followed me to a table for two on the patio, and we took seats across from each other.
I grinned. I couldn’t help it. I swear he’d gotten hotter in three days — his eyes were bluer, his hair blonder, his smile brighter as he grinned right back and put on his sunglasses.
Either that or my imagination was a sad, sad substitute for the real thing.
“Highway to Hell” came on the overhead speakers as I took a long lick of my ice cream and moaned.
Pretty sure Bodie was staring at my mouth from behind his shades.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” I started, sticking out my tongue to run my ice cream across it.
He wet his lips and smirked. “Me too.”
When he licked his ice cream and flicked his tongue at the top, I felt warm all over, and it had nothing to do with the ninety-five degree weather.
I crossed my legs, my mouth undeterred as I licked that ice cream like my future depended on it.
“It was so hard not to text you.” I closed my lips over the top of my scoop.
“How hard?” he teased me back.
I just kept watching that creamy ice cream on his tongue, squeezing my thighs together like a goddamn vise.
“It just kept getting harder and harder with no hope of release. Cruel really.”
“So why didn’t you text me?”
I shrugged, playing coy. “Didn’t want you to think I was easy.”
We both laughed for a minute.
“So how much did you think of me?” I asked innocently, fondling my cone.
“Oh, only about every minute of every day.” His feet sandwiched my foot on the ground and squeezed, shifting his sneakers up and down in slow, opposite strokes, just an inch or two’s distance.
Somehow, it drove me completely insane.
“You?” he asked.
“A time or two. Once when I was in the shower.”
“Mmm,” he hummed with his cone in his mouth.
“Another time when I was lying in bed, wishing you’d texted me. I thought about you a lot that night. Three times. Every time, I would think I’d gotten you out of my head and whoops — you’d pop up again.”
“Well, I can’t help popping up. Not when I remember you eat ice cream like that.”
I smiled and dragged my tongue around the diameter of the scoop.
“All that thinking and no doing,” he said. “I really feel like we should be doing a whole lot more than we have the last couple of days.”
I nodded. “Why didn’t you text me?” I tried to keep the uncertainty out of my voice.
If he’d heard it, he didn’t react.
He shrugged and echoed my words, “Didn’t want you to think I was easy.”
I laughed. “Maybe I like easy.”
“Well then, you’re in luck. Because when it comes to you, I’m so easy.”
Bodie’s elbows were on the table and so were mine, the two of us leaning toward each other.
“What do you say we get out of here?” he asked.
And I smiled back. “I thought you’d never fucking ask.”
Commando
We hurried down the sidewalk, still holding our ice cream, our free hands threaded together, fingers shifting and stroking each other’s. Only Penny could make holding hands feel dirty.
She lived just around the corner — we didn’t even have to stop for a light — and when we reached the building, we ran up the stairs, both of us laughing, bursting into her quiet apartment.
I closed the door, and our laughter faded to soft smiles as we watched each other, breathless, from across the room.
Penny took off her sunglasses and set them on the kitchen table, licking her ice cream as she kicked off her shoes.
I kicked mine off too, my eyes on her.
She wasn’t wearing a bra — her nipples were hard, the barbells of her piercing straining against the fabric of her T-shirt as my cock fought the confines of my shorts.
Her fingers trailed down her sternum, and my eyes locked on them as they hooked under the hem of her shirt. And then she pulled, dragging it up until it rested just above her breasts, exposing her tattooed torso to me. Large etched and watercolor flowers climbed up her ribs, stopping under the curves of her breasts, meeting between them in a point, like a corset, and the artwork above framed them with perfect symmetry.
She stuck out her tongue and put it to the scoop, spinning the cone to coat it, but she didn’t swallow. She left her tongue out, dripping creamy ice cream down her chin as she took her cone and dragged the scoop between her breasts and down to her belly button.
I tossed my ice cream toward the sink without looking, thankful to hear the thunk as it hit its target. There was no way in hell anything was going to stop me from getting to her.
I rushed her, closing my mouth over hers, sucking the sticky sweetness from her tongue as she moaned. It had been too long without her, too long since this. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and I stood, lifting her off the ground, her body pressed against mine like I’d been dreaming of.
“Bedroom?” I panted.
She jerked her head toward a room behind her. “That way,” she breathed.
“Don’t you dare leave that ice cream.”
She smiled and kissed me, wrapping her legs around my waist as I blindly carried her through the apartment, bumping into furniture along the way.
I lowered her onto the bed and moved down her body, sucking on her skin where she’d left a trail to the promised land, cupping her breast in my hand.
I missed you,
I thought, saying nothing with words and everything with the long caress of my tongue on her body.
When I reached her shorts, I looked up while I unfastened them — she lay there, head propped up by pillows, watching me as she ate the fucking ice cream cone that might be the death of me.
I pulled off her shorts and threw them before gripping her naked hips, my thumbs stroking that soft skin in the crease of her thighs.
“Do you ever wear panties?” I asked.
“Never. Can’t stand them.”
I laughed and pulled my shirt off, tossing it, and then my shorts, tossing them too.
One of her brows rose. “Do you?”
I smirked as I climbed up to meet her, nestling between her legs. “Nope, I never wear panties either.”
A little laugh passed her lips before I kissed her silent.
Her shirt was still hitched up to her collarbone, giving me all the room to touch her that I wanted, so I did, my lips against hers as I squeezed and cupped, thumbed and twisted until her hips were rocking under me.
Her arms were around my neck, the ice cream dripping down my back from the cone still in her hand, and after a minute, she broke away and smiled.
“Roll over.”
I smiled back and did what she’d asked, stretching out in her bed, vulnerable, waiting for her to do what she wanted.
Our eyes were locked as she straddled me, though she didn’t lower her hips — she hovered above me, and I looked over every inch of her body that I could see.
She was a work of art — pale, pale skin covered in ink, purple hair and piercings, winged black liner that made her look like a cat, full, pouty lips that parted like she wanted to taste the world, starting with me.
Penny ran that ice cream across her collarbone — I touched her thighs: I had to touch her — and down her breast to circle her nipple. Then around the curve of her breast — God, I was so rock hard it hurt — down her ribs, and then lower still, dragging it over the hood of her clit.
I wanted to move, wanted to lick every part of her until she came, but before I could, she took that ice cream and dragged it up the length of my cock.
I hissed, the pleasure of touch and the icy-cold shock a mixture of sensations I hadn’t been ready for.
She brought the cone up to her smiling lips and bit off a chunk before hinging at the waist, angling for my cock. And without any more pretense, she wrapped her hand around my base, lifted me up, and slid me into her mouth, dropping down until I hit the back of her throat.
A Kiss For You Page 28