After a long morning in the water, Rae cooks up some amazing stew and serves it with her own homemade bread.
“Holy hell, lady!” I exclaim. “You baked this?”
“I have a bread maker. It’s really not that complicated.”
I marvel at my lack of serious kitchen expertise and shake my head. “How does anyone have time for that stuff?”
“I just like to cook,” she says. “Otherwise, y’all would be having cold cheese sandwiches, I’m guessing.”
“Mmm,” Jonah says as he reemerges from the shower, his floppy ginger locks slicked back and dark. “Cold cheese sandwiches.”
Rae throws a crust of bread at him. “Yeah. Your favorite when I’m not home to feed your lazy punk ass.”
He wraps his arms around her from behind, kissing his way around her long neck and chin. I’ve always thought she looked a bit like a dark-skinned Botticelli, specifically The Birth of Venus. Of course, her hair isn’t long like that; it’s a bouncy, curly mass. One that I’m super jealous of, but I have no doubt it would look ridiculous on me.
“It’s a sad, lonely time,” Jonah says softly, more for her than anyone else in the room. “It’s just me, Brutus, and an overflowing drawer of cheese.”
Brutus is their cat. He’s ten pounds and super fluffy. Jonah lives to say “Et tu, Brute?” to him. Every time I’ve ever been at his house, he says it at least once.
Rae giggles and turns in his arms to kiss him. They continue talking quietly between the two of them. I ignore the weird urge I get to snuggle up to Fox. What is it about seeing couples being affectionate, intimate even, that makes you want to grab the nearest body and do the same? Not that Fox is just the nearest body. He’s—never mind. I don’t like where my mind is going.
The audience grumbles. I tell them to shut their faces.
We take our crazy awesome stew and eat on the patio. Aside from sounding like a choir of orgasms while we eat, we also manage to discuss the possibilities of a bonfire that night. The pit is huge, so of course Fox and Jonah want to make it look like a Viking sacrifice by the time we’re done.
“The stars will dim and the s’mores will disappear in the blaze of glory we will create!” Jonah yells.
Their manly verbal renderings leave Rae and I making faces at them, and I am compelled to remind them that we might not have the lumber for a scaffolding of such a sacrificial magnitude. They give me dirty looks and insist I will be the first to be offered up.
“I offer up double middle fingers,” I say sincerely, said fingers on display. Rae chuckles.
“I may have married you, darling,” Jonah says, “but I will not save you from the flames of Valhalla.”
She narrows her eyes, pushing some of her tight curls behind one ear. “Good luck getting laid tonight.”
Jonah looks legitimately concerned. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”
Regardless of my doubts, the fire they manage to build is, well, fucking huge. It’s quite likely that if there were a neighbor closer to us, they would have called the fire department by now. Any ships looking for a lighthouse will be ashore right before us at any moment. It feels that big. I’m sitting pretty far back, but I’m convinced my marshmallows will spontaneously combust just from the heat kicking off this fiery teepee.
“Christ on a cracker, guys,” I say. “It’s like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. But in hell.”
Everyone laughs at that, but Fox’s eyes are gleaming. He’s stupid proud of this and is very obviously logging away everything they did so that he can recreate this at his house—where he will almost certainly be ticketed, fined, and possibly arrested for it. He doesn’t even have a legal fire pit, for Chrissakes. Luckily the fire settles some, burning down a bit, so it’s not so much like a funeral pyre anymore, and I’m less afraid that we will be jailed because of it.
I eat my weight in s’mores, but as it is with some desserts—thank goodness—I’m no fuller than I was before I started eating them. Just slightly nauseated, but not bloated, so there’s a bonus. Rae eventually passes out on one of the oversized lounge chairs we dragged off the deck. Jonah picks her up and carries her inside sometime before midnight.
Once they’ve gone in, Fox not-so-stealthily joins me under my blanket on my chair.
“Hi,” he says, grinning like a madman.
I breathe strategically through my nose, trying to keep a straight face, but I lose—my smile tears across my face. “Hi. Can I help you with something?”
“As a matter of fact,” he starts, lifting the blanket as if to show me something very particular I can help with.
“You’re such a pervert,” I tell him, but the effect is ruined because I’m snickering. Goddammit, I sound like such a girl. Which is fine, of course, but I mean like girlie girl. One of his substanceless girls.
“And that’s bad?”
“I’m just making sure you know.”
His teeth shine in the firelight. “Well aware, Lolls. It’s why we’re friends.”
“No it’s not,” I argue playfully, turning toward him onto my side. “We’re friends because I’ve known you forever, so it’s kind of like a grandfather clause. You’re my friend no matter what, unless you pull something heinous enough that I can’t even look at you anymore.”
He leans his head against the cushy back of the chair. “Like murder someone?” he offers, bugging out his eyes so he looks ridiculous. As if his sarcastic tone of voice wasn’t enough.
“Pfft! Only if it was someone dear to me. Otherwise, I’d probably help you bury the body,” I say. “You know, good friends will bail you out, but only the best friends will be sitting in the jail cell next to you.”
He makes a low throaty sound. “Christ, do you even know how hot that is?”
That comment makes me laugh so hard I almost fall off the chair. Fox twists and grabs me, his hand conveniently landing on my ass. Not to mention, our bodies are flush and I’m now physically aware of what it is he wanted to get my help with. It’s kind of poking me in the belly, as a matter of fact.
“Why is that funny?” he whispers, his mouth at my ear. I feel his lips tracing my neck. Immediately, my heartbeat picks up, heavily obvious in certain erogenous zones. A set of waves wallop the sand several yards away and I feel my pulse everywhere.
Breathy, I tell him, “So covering up a murder with you is a turn-on? I think you’re a little twisted.”
He turns his head to face me, our lips millimeters apart, our noses brushing. “I think you like me that way.”
All I can do is breathe right then. It’s not like I don’t know where this is going, but ever since I woke up this morning, I’ve been doubting my decision to move into this so-called “benefits” situation. I agreed too easily, I know how Fox works. He doesn’t fall for the women he sleeps with. He doesn’t do commitment.
Not that I want that from him. I don’t. Really. I’m pretty damn sure… ish.
Based on their rude and presumptuous commentary, I am forced to gag the audience.
The gap in conversation is all the invitation Fox needs. My mouth is suddenly occupied, quite masterfully, in fact—I wasn’t kidding about his kissing expertise. He shames everyone else I’ve ever kissed.
My leg lifts up and over his hip, but not by my own doing. Fox is somewhat crazed, pulling at me from every direction. “Should we go inside?” I suggest when his lips are suctioned to my neck.
He detaches himself briefly enough to grunt, “No.”
I huff. “Rae or Jonah could come out at any second.”
“That’s part of the fun, though, right?” He pulls back to hold my face in his hands. “We got these great blankets, the most bodacious bonfire ever, and no one needs to go running for condoms!”
I can’t help the peal of laughter. “You make an excellent point, sir,” I tease. My fingers leave his back and find the hem of my sweatshirt and tee underneath. I pull them both up, and Fox helps me out of them. From there, I’m not even sure how we get naked and remain under the blanket, but I’m going to chalk it up to luck if not crazy nimble skill.
And then we are a mess of limbs, feeling and touching, groping and caressing. I bite his lip, he squeezes my ass. I grip his hair, he pins me to the chaise. It’s a veritable tit for tat. Or tit for tit. For dick. For—
The audience removes their gags to groan. These are the jokes, people!
“What are you doing?” I ask when his lips and tongue shift their attentions away and below my breasts. He moves lower, kissing my belly button and tracing it with the tip of his tongue. Finally, before I yank him up by the hair, he lifts his face to look at me.
“I want to taste you.” All my blood rushes to the pussy pearl so fast, I think it might just explode before he gets there. I mean, I didn’t think about all the things we could do outside of the sex. The sex was the point, right? Can’t get pregnant from oral, so it never occurred. Now that our agreement has expanded, the possibilities are endless. Unless he suggests butt stuff. I mean, I’m always open to suggestion, but that’s just… I might need some significant material coaxing like, I don’t know, a house in Tahoe to pull out those stops. When I say nothing, he asks, “Please, Lolls. Can I?”
I nod simply and watch as he grins crookedly and disappears under the blanket. I let the cover drop below, exposing my chest and stomach. My nipples pebble instantly. They tighten almost to the point of pain, but my skin is on fire, so the cool air is a relief. I can’t help but call out when I feel his lips find their intended target. He seems to cover all of me with his mouth, but his tongue slides slowly and firmly up the middle to the center. He kisses me before he flicks the tip of his tongue at my most sensitive part, and I call out stupid loud. I take the initiative and slap a hand over my mouth, fearing discovery by our friends. So, yeah, if someone else walked by on the beach, I’d be less concerned. I feel a bizarre vibration on my not-so-mossy grotto and I realize he’s laughing at me.
I decide I want to see what he’s doing. Unable to feel the cold, what there was of it, I throw the blanket away, revealing Fox and his outer grip on my hips. His face is burrowed in my oyster cloister and I cackle just because I’ve not felt this good in an age and all I can think of is ridiculous names for my lady parts. Instead of pulling away from his serious work, Fox retaliates by inserting two fingers and moving them around in search of that special spot. His lips center on the pearl and suck. Hard.
I come like a goddamn freight train, barreling toward nowhere and fast. Everything goes dark before my eyes until I swear I see stars—and yeah, I know we’re outside and sure, the sky is clear. But these stars move erratically and rather quickly. Pretty sure comets and even meteor showers have a more organized and steady path, so if these were actual celestial bodies in psychotic motion, I’d fear for the state of the planet. But I digress.
I remain completely relaxed on the chair, something like a blissed-out paralyzed jellyfish. You’re welcome for that comparison, by the way. At some point, Fox moves up next to me and brings the blanket back over us. I still don’t need it.
When I’m able to speak, my only word is “tongue.”
Fox guffaws. Sexy, right? He leans in and kisses the base of my neck. “You were so loud,” he tells me.
I make some sort of “grr” sound. It’s sad. Finally, I have enough effort accumulated to form a real sentence. “Your pillow talk blows.”
He chuckles some more, pulling me close. His body feels as hot as mine and suddenly I’m a hair’s breadth from overheating. “Omigod, so hot—sweaty,” I say, irritated that my brain is having so much trouble offering enunciated speech. “Going for a swim.”
I try to get up, the intention being a quick dip in the likely very cold water, but Fox fastens me to his increasingly slick body.
“Too cold, too dangerous at night,” he insists.
“Chicken,” I say.
“Beach shower off the shed is better.”
“But is it secret? Is it safe?” I tease.
“Is that from a movie? Are you making fun of me?”
I nod happily, so he takes the opportunity to throw me over his shoulder like a caveman and carry my naked ass to the outdoor stall. Instead of screaming for him to put me down, I reach down to smack his ass repeatedly the entire way. He doesn’t stop, and frankly, I’m guessing his erection is now leading the way. I laugh myself almost hoarse by the time we reach the shower.
He sets me on my feet and my knees are still jellyfish-y, so I wobble a little. I grip his waist as he leans to turn on the water. It’s warm enough so thankfully we’ll not freeze our asses off. This far from the fire, I’m feeling the chill.
I follow him into the spray, realizing there are two spouts—one from each direction. “Fancy fucking showerheads,” I say.
“Funny that you put it that way,” he says, his eyebrows waggling.
I smirk, a humming sound vibrating in my chest. When he leans in to kiss me, my arms automatically wrap around his neck. I then remember my ridiculous flirting this morning in the water and decide to fulfill it. I don’t know if he was banking on this or not, but I know he was into the idea. His palms are firmly cupping my ass, and it seems like he’s about to lift me up for some standing shower sex. Before we get there, I pull away, peck his lips, and drop carefully to one knee. The floor of the outdoor shower is a simple cement slab, so I’m not about to tear my knees to hell if I can help it. I push Fox closer to the wall surrounding us, and he groans in a way that indicates he’s been reduced to low, grumbling vowel sounds. Words are now out the window.
Gripping his hips, I start with a long, slow lick to the underside of his cock. Once I reach the head, I flick it with my tongue—earning a very manly outcry. And by very manly, I mean he sounds like a preteen. Before the sound fades away, I slide as much of him into my mouth as I can. Not very quickly, but with a firm suction. His knees buckle just a little. I nearly smile and break momentum, but I maintain. From there I lose myself a little, but he leans back on the wood panels, his fingers gently guiding my head to follow—and not let go. I stop planning and take inspiration from his noises and prodding. My pace is slow, my technique is involved—it’s not just my mouth, and I’m pretty sure it’s driving him crazy because he’s mumbling quickly and incoherently. His hands weave into my hair, but I will not be led. It frustrates him, clearly, but I wager he enjoys it all the more because he comes seconds later. I have to stand up to press him against the wooden wall before he slides down and gets splinters all up his ass and back.
A few moments later, I note the lack of abrasions on my knee—thankfully, and he grabs my face to kiss me. I’m kind of shocked because I didn’t think he’d do that after what I just swallowed—like a goddamn champ, by the way. But he does, and he doesn’t seem to care. He wraps his arms around me and cuddles me close.
“You have skills, Lollipop,” he whispers. “Mad, mad skills.”
“Aww,” I tease. “You’re just saying that because it’s been a few months.”
He scoffs, but smiles brightly, warming me from the center on out. “Trust me. I’ve had biters, scrapers—”
I stop him there. “Okay, okay. I don’t need the list. I’m glad you enjoyed it, but I’m getting cold,” I say. “I’d like to get dry.”
“Got you,” he says. He runs back to the fire pit and grabs our clothes and the blankets in a big pile. “You’re staying with me tonight in case I get a second and third wind.”
I shake my head with a smile as he cocoons me in one of the blankets. We head inside and sleep like the dead in his massive California king until dawn. I wake up to find him sleeping with his head literally on my butt, which is disturbing enough until I notice he’s also drooling like a teething baby down the cheek. I want to smack him, but I need to sneak out before Jonah or Rae gets up. No sooner do I free myself from being his ass pillow when Fox grabs my wrist to stop me. He pulls me back for a “quickie” that is anything but.