“What the hell?!” Ford screams viciously. “What. In the. Actual. Hell?!”
“You have to be the worst gamer in the history of gaming,” I mutter while adjusting the shape of the head I’m drawing.
He drops the controller onto the couch beside him. “How can you say that to me? I would never say something like that to you.”
My head snaps up with a sarcastic look attached. “You said something like that to me last week.”
“I did not.”
“You did too! When we were playing beer pong with Blake and that pair of fake boobs he was trying to impress. You turned to me and said and I quote, ‘Baby you are the worst at beer pong’.”
Which I probably am. I’m not coordinated enough to play normal sports let alone one that requires me to have to drink at a frequent rate. Oh! And guzzle down a drink I don’t even care for, though Ford’s beer is truly amazing. I never complain when he brings some home for us.
Ford’s face cringes. “Shit, I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you were drunk, so I chalked it up to mostly that and punished you by making you sleep on this very couch.”
He didn’t object, but the next morning was filled with groveling, pancakes, and aspirin.
“Speaking of this couch, what do you say we get rid of it, and replace it with mine? It’s much more comfortable.”
I give him a teasing smirk. “Well, you’re the one who is going to have to sleep on it when you’re an asshole so…”
He laughs and gives me a gentle bump.
Afterwards I state, “If I’m going to be honest, it’s probably not all your fault you suck at this game.”
“Thank you?”
With a short sigh, I drop my sketchbook onto the coffee table, and reach for my gaming laptop. “When games are made for both the PC and the console, some of the great game play, along with the graphics gets dumbed down. Often those who suck on the console are better on the PC. Not to mention this game looks much more incredible on the computer, even if it was made several years ago. Let me show you.”
Ford shakes his head. “You have too many computers.”
Once my password is typed in, I cut him a sharp glare. “Excuse me?”
“Too. Many.”
My glower deepens.
“You have one desktop at home, one at the office, one laptop for work, one for gaming, and one for personal use, which I guess is shopping? I don’t know. But I do know, that’s three too many.”
A dramatic hand lands on my chest. “That’s like trying to tell you you have too many cows or chickens, Farm Boy.”
“No…” He says between chuckles. “Completely different.”
“I don’t expect you to understand. You would’ve lived in the flip phone era forever if given the chance.”
“They were just simpler!”
“Your lack of technology love is frightening…”
Yet adorable. As much as my life revolves around what I can create on paper, as much as what I can make come to life on screen, I appreciate Ford’s appeal to be away from it. To look around at what’s happening in the real world. I love how he demands we leave cell phones at home when we take Princess Pinky for a walk or how he drove us down to the lake a couple weekends ago and made us leave them in the car. I love how his life doesn’t revolve around the beeping of a message or the obnoxious scrolling of a newsfeed. I love how we balance one another out. I need those things and he needs to enjoy the ability to stay home to engage in things like alien shooting tournaments.
It only takes a minute more before the game is pulled up on the screen. Sweet Bloody High’s intro begins to play and the shock on Ford’s face is intoxicating. His surprise spliced with his pride of knowing those were my art designs has my thighs floating together in an attempt to stop the inevitable desire of wanting him between my legs. Having someone so thrilled over my achievements, especially ones I don’t even consider worth mentioning any more, is a huge turn on. Hell, just having someone be supportive of me on the level he is, is one of the biggest turn ons I’ve experienced.
I clear my throat in the process of cooling down my heated thoughts. “Anyway, so as you can see, the game is the same, but the graphics are much sharper on the computer. The game play is as well. You might actually survive longer than a horde on easy.”
He gives me a playful smile. “That’s twice you’ve basically told me I’m a shitty player, baby.”
“You are a shitty player, Farm Boy. But I love you anyway.”
The casualness of the comment brightens his beam even more.
It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve said it. We exchanged those the night after our first time together. It wasn’t forced or predicted. We were falling into bed and they just fell out of us. It was the first time I’ve ever said those words to someone I was dating. Surprisingly enough it wasn’t as scary as I was imagining. Like everything else with Ford, it was easy. Natural.
Ford tosses his head at the sketch pad. “What are you working on now?”
“Boss infected. I prefer to work backwards when it comes to design. Highest level, ugliest monsters, and then each one a little less terrifying.”
He nods, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Care to explain why that one looks like Carol Ann?”
I pretend to give him an innocent look. “Hm?”
His chuckle is followed by a swift pulling of me into his lap. “Let me get this right. One of your boss monsters looks like Carol Ann, meaning another probably looks like Daryl.”
My arms twirl around his neck, but I remain silent.
“And the hero looks like me…Which must mean the woman he’s saving looks like you.”
“No.”
“What?”
I give the edge of his hair on the back of his neck a gentle stroke, knowing how turned on he gets from the soft touch. “I am not something that belongs in a video game, Ford. Heroes are hot and strong and burly to give those obviously not the ability to feel that way for the hunk of gameplay they are submersed in, while the female characters are the embodiment of what the average male wants to see naked. So…larger than average boobs-”
“Which you have-”
“Perky-”
“Yours are perfect.”
“Flat stomach-”
“Prefer the way yours curves.”
“Exaggerated hips, thighs, and ass to be the traditional coke bottle figure but in a flattering way.”
His frown deepens. “But I think you look better naked than that does.”
I ignore his comment. “She’ll also probably be in something tight. Most likely long hair and blue eyes. I’ve yet to design her, but there’s a formula to fill out in the traditional third person, RPG games.”
Ford’s fingers begin to slide up the sides of my thighs. “Why don’t you create something untraditional?” When they cup my ass, I helplessly moan. “I have no doubt many would enjoy the change.”
I smirk, trying not to get caught up in the divine feeling of his fingers sliding under my sleep shorts. “It’s about insuring they see a hefty profit from their product. The best way to do that is to pay attention to what people love that’s on the market and are constantly praising…Which isn’t women who look like me.”
He grunts and leans forward to graze his lips along my collarbone. “Their. Loss.”
Agreed. But in all honesty, before Ford helped open my eyes to see that, not sure I would’ve been so inclined to.
The feeling of his teeth nipping at my skin grabs another heavy moan. I rock eagerly against his cock at the same time I suggest, “Quickie?”
His tongue slowly drags itself towards my hardened nipple. Ford gives it a tug between his teeth before replying, “Is that my only choice?”
After he repeats the action on the other side, I whimper, “Yes…”
With a hempy smile he lets his eyes meet mine. “Yes that’s my only choice, or yes do that again?”
I offer him the same expression. “Yes…”
Almost immediately his chuckle transforms into a deep groan when I grind myself on top of his cock again. Ford leans over to the end table, ruffles around in the drawer, and pulls out a condom, reminding me once more why I’m grateful he insisted on leaving some in various locations around the apartment. He swiftly unbuckles his jeans and unzips them. The moment his cock is free through the small opening of his boxers, my hand curls around it, captivated by the stiffness as much as the pre-cum covering the tip.
He grumbles in ecstasy and lets his head hit the back of the couch.
My face lights up in delight.
I love I can do this to him. I love how one touch from me and he melts to a million pieces…
It takes a moment for Ford to gather his senses again, but once he has, he tears the wrapper open. The moment it hits the tip of his dick, I promptly take over the process of rolling it on. Another heavy groan reverberates around the room, and I take pleasure in his enjoyment of the action.
I like to assist because it gives me a sense of power. Just as much control over his cock as he has. I love the way he tries not to shudder through it. I love watching his face build in anticipation of what we’re so close to.
After it’s securely on, Ford yanks my shorts to the side and slips himself in.
My head tips backwards while I roll my hips forward, anxious to have him deeper. A possessive groan greets me seconds before his hand wraps around the nape of my neck to pull my lips to his. Our teeth gnash together in the desperation of our tongues’ hasty reunion. Despite the insatiable hunger to taste one another other, our mouths drift apart to catch our breath as my body begins to vigorously bounce. Ford instinctively cups my ass to assist in the process and my pussy clamps on tighter in gratitude. I allow my hands to latch themselves onto his shoulders while I succumb to the enraptured feeling pounding through my system. Each time he thrusts, grazing the orgasm he knows belongs only to him, my pussy quivers, ready to hand it over with little argument. My body repeatedly tenses exerting all efforts to stop from crumbling too soon. To hold onto the euphoria for just a minute more. Ford battles against the request with even more feverish pumps. The combination of his dick diving mercilessly deeper and the edge of my shorts frantically brushing against my sensitive clit send me hurling over the edge long before I’m prepared. I drop my head onto his shoulder and ride the wave of the orgasm rolling through me.
“Damn Ollie,” Ford’s strained voice praises, hands mimicking the fight for staying in control. The continuous whimpers of my satisfaction quickly become his undoing. “I’m coming…”
His protected cock swells and my pussy copies the action, begging to be joined in the heavenly whirlwind. The two of us spiral together until we are nothing more than a sated mess of tangled limbs and gracious groans.
How the hell did I get this lucky? How on earth did I, of all people, become the valued prize of the heroic cowboy? I know life isn’t a video game, but his earlier comparison has my mind now wondering. What will be the big boss battle that tries to tear us apart? And just how hard is he willing to fight? How much is he willing to risk? The real question is…how much am I?