Page 70 of Kiss My Glass
I check around. Answer is right in front of me. Danny’s “Big Dink Energy” T-shirt is loose, and soft, and already kind of stinky. Perfect. Ideally, I’d put lube or moisturizer on my hand but I don’t think this will take long.
With one hand, I poise the T-shirt in readiness, and with the other take hold of his erection. He groans again, screws his eyes shut even harder, like he’s in pain. Poor boy. Help is on the way.
I’m only a few strokes in, when he grabs my hand with both of his and makes a sprint for the finish line. The T-shirt does its job. Except I forgot that now he’ll have to take it off, which could prove messy. Oh well. That’s why showers were invented. And cedar body wash.
“Urghh.” Danny’s peering down at his T-shirt bunched-up in my hand. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Couldn’t reach the dish towel,” I say. “Lift up your arms. I’ll be careful.”
There’s a tiny bit of leakage but could be worse. I dump the shirt on the floor. Danny can wash it later. Or burn it, whatever.
His face is relaxed and soft now, and he’s smiling at me with wry affection.
“On the way back here, I had visions of us taking our time in the comfort of my bed,” he says. “We could have done this in your car by the roadside.”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Not enough room.”
Danny’s no longer so amused. “That’s a very definitive answer.”
I give him a steady look. “Do we want to list every one of our previous sexual encounters? Or would we prefer to draw a line under them and move on?”
He’s struggling not to make the sulky-boy face. “Move on,” he agrees, grudgingly. And immediately adds, “But if you were to list them, how many would there be?”
“Fifty-nine,” I say.
“What?” Danny’s aghast. “Seriously?”
“No!’ I smack him lightly on his bare chest. “It was a stupid answer to a stupid question!”
“You’re mean,” he says. “But I’m glad you were lying.Mylist only totals fifty-five.”
I fix him with my best courtroom glare, until he gives in and grins. “Messing with you,” he says. “My list is actually only?—”
“Shut up or there’ll be no encore.”
“And it doesn’t include any time I didn’t get past second base?—”
“Shut up now.” My voice has that sing-song warning lilt to it.
“Or any time I?—”
“Right, that’s it.” I hop off his lap, scoop my panties up off the floor. “I’m having a shower. And after that, I will think about going back to bed with you.”
“I could join you in the shower?” he calls out after me. “Too soon?”
My answer is short and involves my middle finger. I can hear him laughing as I slam the bathroom door behind me. Then I lean against the door myself and indulge in a silly, goofy smile. I am happier than I’ve ever been in my life. It’s wonderful, and it’s terrifying, but I’ll do my best to ignore that part.
When I come back out into the living area, Danny’s nowhere to be seen. His T-shirt is gone from the floor, so maybe he’s hosing it down outside. Then I hear a creak above me, footsteps on the bedroom floor. I’m naked and wrapped in a towel, conveniently packaged, if you like. I hope Danny is ready and waiting. I am most certainly primed for round two.
“Hey.” Danny’s lying on the bed, one arm crooked behind his head, a pose that heightens the definition of his chest and ab muscles. He’s lean and fit, and his skin is tanned golden all over, apart from a cute paler area in the middle that’s shaped like a pair of running shorts. Lil Danny has revived in the interim. And he’s condomed up. Big Danny’s not only ready, he’s raring to go.
I drop my towel, and Danny grips the base of his erection. His eyes darken with desire, and my insides turn entirely liquid.
“If it’s okay with you, I’d like you to fuck me senseless,” I say. “We’ve got forty-five minutes.”
Danny sits up and opens his arms. “Then get your gorgeous ass over here right now.”
ChapterThirty-Eight
