A Kiss For You

by Rachel Van Dyken

  I drew a shuddering breath with one hand on her shoulder and the other cupping the back of her head as her hot tongue dragged a lump of freezing cold ice cream up my shaft and down. And then, she bobbed her head again, sliding back down.

  My fingers tightened in her hair — I wanted to slam into her mouth until I came, but I closed my eyes, trying to breathe.

  Closing my eyes made it worse.

  Over and over again she took the length of me, humming and sighing through her nose, eyes closed, long lashes against her cheeks, purple hair in my hands, her body rolling and shifting like its only mission was to make me come.

  My cock flexed in her mouth, and I squeezed her shoulder in warning.

  She let me go and crawled up my body — apparently she didn’t want me to come yet either.

  I sat up to meet her halfway, and my hands holding her jaw, tilting her head so I could get deep into her mouth, wanting to take her. I twisted to guide her onto her back, and when I broke away, her mouth hung open like it didn’t know I was gone.

  I reached off the edge of the bed for my jeans and growled, “Take your shirt off, Penny.”

  She opened her eyes lazily, ice cream cone somehow still in her hand, and half-reached for the nightstand. “Condom,” she murmured.

  “I’ve got it. Now take your fucking shirt off.” I ripped the packet open and slipped that fucker on so fast it was a blur of hands and motion before she was shirtless, the ice cream had disappeared, and I was between her legs again, resting at the tip of her heat for a moment as we stared at each other.

  “Oh God. Do it,” she begged.

  I flexed with a moan, and her head lolled to the side. I pulled out and flexed again, slipping in even easier as my lips found trails of ice cream on her body and licked her clean. Then again my hips pumped, and I hit the end with a jolt that ran up her thigh, jerking her leg. I grabbed that leg and pushed it open wider, spreading my own legs to get low, and when I slammed into her, her breasts jostled.

  She gasped, head kicking back into the bed.

  “God, Penny,” I huffed. “I could fuck you all day. All night.”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Do that thing—” Another gasp as I ground against her piercing. “Oh, fuck. Yes, please. That. Oh God. That.”

  I didn’t stop the motion once I knew what she wanted, only pressed harder, moved faster until her brows drew together, her lips parting, and she came all around me like thunder.

  That face, her face. I couldn’t stop myself, no matter how bad I wanted to. Three pumps of my hips and I came with her hands in my hair and my name on her lips like a prayer.

  When I pressed my forehead to hers, when she trailed the tip of her small nose up the bridge of mine, I caught a glimpse of just how deep the deep end was.

  And I had no idea how to swim.

  It took me all of about two minutes to come down from my orgasm with Bodie in my arms and the glorious weight of him pressing me into the bed before I freaked the fuck out.

  I liked him.

  I wasn’t supposed to like him.

  And now it had to end. All the fun. All the happy. All the Bodie. All that glorious D and laughing and excitement. Over. Poof. My three dates were up, and now my carriage was gonna turn into a pumpkin.

  I had to walk away.

  I didn’t want to walk away.

  Fuck.

  My heart hammered, and I clawed my way through my thoughts. How could I tell him it was over? Did I even have to? Could I let him leave and just let the whole thing die?

  I told myself I could. I also told myself I was a liar.

  He propped himself up, holding my face in his hands as he smiled at me, and my insides trembled and fluttered in response. I was smiling back, betraying my freak-out so easily, I almost got whiplash. Or dicklash.

  What is happening to me?

  “I’m glad to see you, Penny,” he said, his eyes on my lips.

  “I can tell.”

  He kissed my nose and rolled away.

  I sat up in bed and leaned against my pillows, pulling the covers over me as I watched him walk out of my room, stark naked. He turned the wrong way for the bathroom, and I forgot all about my anxiety, laughing when he passed the doorway again, pointing in the other direction.

  God, I was in the deepest of shit. All the way up the creek of shit with no paddle.

  Screwed.

  Fucked.

  And only partly in the literal sense.

  I sat there, panicking over what to do. I should have been ready to tell him goodbye, but I wasn’t. But I had to. It had to end.

  Didn’t it?

  Maybe if he bugged out on me, everything would be easy. I would probably follow the old pattern, and I’d be turned off so fast, I could wave sayonara without question. There was still time — his dick was barely out of me, which was something I was really, really missing already.

  But then again, maybe he won’t bug out at all. Maybe he doesn’t actually like you, a little voice in my head said.

  I’d named the owner of that voice Peggy about eight years ago (thanks, Rodney!). My psychotic alter ego smoked Pall Malls and whispered around her cigarette, shuffling around me in her bathrobe with rollers in her hair, reminding me that I was a good lay and that was it. Because that was what I was good for — sex and tattoos. The good-time girl.

  He’s probably got another girl or two in his rotation, one who’s less of a mess. Once he leaves, I doubt he’ll ever speak to you again, she said, which was a point that should have given me a modicum of comfort but gave me absolutely none.

  That sick feeling in my stomach was back. I fucking hated Peggy. She ashed on my soul and existed solely to make me miserable.

  Peggy was why I wasn’t allowed to have feelings.

  I stole her imaginary cigarette and put it out, which shut her up long enough to light another one. It was the only thing that worked to keep her quiet — making sure she was stocked with beer and cigarettes and all the dick she could eat.

  And when she was finally quiet, I wondered if I would be the one to bug out.

  That thought sent my heart chugging so fast, it hurt.

  He came back a second later with a cool, wet washcloth for me, which he handed over with a smile that panicked me even more.

  Bodie made his way around the room, gathering his clothes — first his shorts, which I mourned as his ass disappeared into them, and then his shirt, another sorrowful moment of my day. And then he climbed back in bed with me, flopping down on his stomach at my side.

  “I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “Okay,” I said, waiting for him to profess his undying love or pledge to cherish me forever or admit that banging me was nice but he really thought we should call it.

  But instead, he smirked. “Do me a favor and hit me up sooner rather than later next time, okay?”

  I laughed, surprised and relieved and filled with traitorous hope. “That’s it?”

  His smile fell. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean …” I paused, not sure what to say. “You don’t want … more?”

  His brow quirked. “You said no strings. This is what no strings looks like. Penny, you don’t owe me anything.”

  I watched him, unsure if it was a trap. “You really mean that?”

  He laughed at that. “Yeah, I really mean that.” He crawled half into my lap, his arms on either side of my thighs as he looked up at me. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. It doesn’t have to be hard. It can be easy. And I’m around. Whenever.”

  As I sat there in my bed with the most beautiful man I’d ever known smiling up at me, I believed every word he’d said. I heard Veronica’s voice in the back of my mind, telling me the three-date rule was stupid, and in that moment, it was.

  Bodie had said it could be easy, and being with him was fun. Being with him made me happy. Being with him was like a balm to my blistering crazy.

  But was that enough to throw my rule out the window and risk the conse
quences?

  There were so many reasons to say yes, including:

  1. That smile.

  2. The warmth nestled in the middle of my ribcage.

  3. That wonderful wang that had dicknotized me.

  In fact, I’d been dicknotized so hard, that list was all it took to punt my rule into the end zone and do a victory dance. It was stupid and irresponsible and I didn’t give a single shit. I wanted to be with him, and I foolishly believed I was safe and strong enough to know my limits.

  So I answered him with a kiss full of relief and thanks and absolute pleasure.

  When I broke away, he was smiling again.

  “Hit me up, Penny.”

  “I will,” I said.

  And as he left, I reassured myself that I could have fun and keep seeing Bodie with no strings.

  I couldn’t even blame him for the fact that I was already falling for him, and I was so naive that I didn’t even realize it.

  Easy Peasy

  I hit the bed with a thump and a bounce, naked and out of breath and grinning from ear to ear.

  The bed jostled as Bodie flopped down next to me, smiling just as wide as I was, looking just as sated as I felt.

  It had been four days of nothing but work and Bodie. Somehow I’d found myself at his place every night, plus once during my lunch break. Ramona had moved out, a tear-filled, horrible day that I ended in Bodie’s bed. The void of her moving had been filled by Bodie and his smile and his jock and his big, muscly arms.

  He was absolutely perfect.

  There were no strings, not a single longing gaze, not one second where I felt the itch to ditch.

  It was a goddamn miracle. I’d found the unicorn of men — a smart, snarky, magical sex creature who made me want to stay put for a minute — and I didn’t think I’d been so happy in my whole life. I didn’t feel crazy, and neither did he. It was easy, just like he’d said.

  I hadn’t laughed so much in ages. I hadn’t felt so good in ages.

  Bodie let me lead under the promise that I wouldn’t wait too long between us seeing each other. As if I could stop. I was addicted. A-dick-ted.

  I giggled stupidly to myself at the thought, and he somehow smiled wider, deepening his dimple.

  We rolled to face each other at the same time, and I curled into his chest, his arms wrapping around me as our legs scissored.

  “You sure are something else,” I mused.

  He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into me.

  My smile falling as I thought about leaving. “Ugh. I wish I could stay for a while.”

  “Well, you can hang here as long as you want.”

  I frowned — in part because the thought of staying didn’t bother me at all, which bothered me, and in part because I couldn’t actually stay.

  “I’ve got to head back to the shop to film an interview.”

  “I thought you weren’t filming until the wedding?”

  I snuggled deeper into his chest and smelled him shamelessly. “We aren’t, but we have these interview things we have to do for a recap on what’s been going on since the break. They’re going to film a little for a montage at our dress fittings in a couple days.”

  “Is it weird being on TV?”

  “Not really. I mean, every once in a while someone will know who I am, which is really strange. Like, they feel like they know you because they watch you on TV, and they know all this stuff about you, but you have zero context for who they are. Mostly I just smile and listen and take the occasional picture with them.”

  He laughed again. “You have fans.”

  “I do. So strange,” I said with an echoing laugh. “Otherwise though, it’s kind of fun. I like to show people what it’s like in the shop, and our show is different from the other parlor reality shows — we don’t focus too much on our personal lives. Sometimes it’s unavoidable though. Like when Annika and Joel started banging on the sly. They had this huge blowup on film. Like, Joel ripped a camera out of a guy’s hands and threw it across the shop.”

  He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I saw that episode. I bet that wasn’t cheap.”

  My mouth popped open. “You watched it?”

  He nodded, smiling with his lips together. “I did. Is that weird?”

  “Not at all. What’d you think?”

  “Well, I binge-watched it in a day, so I guess you could say I liked it all right.”

  I chuckled as my cheeks warmed up.

  “I liked seeing you work. And I liked your pink hair, too. But I think I like the purple better.” He ran a strand through his fingers.

  I sighed, smiling like a fool. But it was gone in a poof when I remembered I had to leave. “What time is it?”

  He shifted to look, not letting me go. “Four thirty.”

  I groaned. “I’ve really got to go. I’m sorry.”

  He laughed, kissing my forehead before he let me go. “What are you sorry for?”

  I peeled myself off the bed and moved around the room, putting on my clothes and gathering my things as I spoke. “Bailing so soon. I really do wish I could stay.”

  “Penny, you can come over for a quickie anytime you want.”

  He was propped up in bed, smiling back at me in a way that made me want to jump right back into bed with him.

  In fact, once I was dressed — somehow in my mind, clothes could actually stop us from having sex again — I did climb back in bed to lie on my stomach next to him with a smile on my face and a secret in my hand.

  “I got you something,” I said mysteriously.

  One of his brows rose with one corner of his lips. “Oh?”

  I nodded and extended my hand, opening it to reveal a calculator watch.

  He busted out laughing and took it, holding it up for inspection. “Where did you get this?”

  “Chinatown. I was there buying hair dye and thought of you.”

  “I love it.” He chuckled and leaned forward to kiss me. “What color hair dye did you get? Thinking about switching things up?”

  “Oh, I think I’m happy where I’m at for now.” I raised my feet into the air and crossed my ankles behind me. “I’m off tomorrow. Maybe we can see each other?” My eyes trailed over the tattoo on his arm and shoulder, which flickered as he put the watch on.

  It capped his shoulder and ended mid-bicep, an octopus drawn to look like a Victorian-era etching, framed by swirling waves in the same style. He had a few other smaller pieces, but this one was my favorite.

  “Yeah, I’ll be around.”

  I touched his arm, tracing the artwork. “You got these done in LA, I’m guessing?”

  “Venice Beach. Do you approve?”

  “Mmhmm,” I hummed, admiring it.

  “Good. I’d hate to think I got ripped off.”

  I chuckled. “Does it mean anything in particular?”

  He shifted to look at it. “I’ve always thought octopuses were interesting. They’re the smartest creatures I’ve ever come in contact with. My dad caught one once and put it in our tank at home — he was always bringing home starfish and sea cucumbers and fish to add to the tank. I named him Stephen, and he was an escape artist. I’m pretty sure he was a whiz at game theory too.”

  I laughed, and he trailed a finger down my arm. “How about yours?”

  “Mostly they have stories, but some are just pretty, like the flowers on my stomach. Ramona, Veronica, and I all have tiny tacos here.” I pointed at the little line drawing of a taco about the size of a dime on the front of my shoulder. “Because what says friendship more than tacos?”

  He let out a little laugh through his nose.

  “This one is for my aunt.” I ran my fingers over the two elephants that wound around my forearm, the smaller one holding the bigger one’s tail. “She collected elephant things. After she died, I sketched this up, and Ronnie tattooed me. Now I can carry her around all the time. Elephants don’t forget.”

  His smile fell. “I’m sorry, Pen.”

 
“It’s okay. Cancer fucking sucks,” I said with a small smile, not wanting to get into it. “This one is self-explanatory.” I held up my arm to expose the inside of my bicep where it said, Oh yes I can.

  “What about this one?” He touched the Latin running down the back of my other arm.

  “Veni, vidi, amavi. We came, we saw, we loved.”

  His smile was back, and it sent a slow burn through my chest — it was the smallest of things, a firing of a few muscles that shot a hint of understanding at me and hit me deep. So of course I changed the subject again.

  “Thinking about getting more?” I asked.

  “I actually had another one on the books, but then I lost my job and moved out here before I could get it done.”

  I perked up at that. “Really? What of?”

  “A Japanese woodcut design of a wave, here.” He gestured to his bicep and shoulder that wasn’t inked.

  “With the wave curling around your shoulder?”

  He smirked. “Yeah.”

  “Still have the design?”

  “I do. Why?”

  “Because I can do it for you,” I said, chipper and grinning. “Tomorrow. I’m off, remember?”

  He laughed, and his cheeks flushed a little. “Yeah, but I can’t ask you to do that for me, and not on your day off.”

  “You didn’t ask. I want to.” The thought of making my mark on his body sent a tingle through me I couldn’t ignore. I silently did the math to see if I had time to jump him again before I had to go. I didn’t.

  He didn’t look convinced, staring at me like I was a quantum physics equation.

  “I mean it. And I want to see you tomorrow. Meet me at the shop, and we’ll do your piece. Can I have it?”

  “Are you sure, Penny?”

  I shrugged. “Why not?”

  He shook his head and swung his legs off the bed, making his way to his closet. I watched his butt like a creep without a single fuck to give. Then I watched his dick as he walked back.