Page 50 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
“What are you talking about?” She waves her current slice at me, then takes a large bite. “Of course this is pizza. It’s got cheese, doesn’t it? And crust,” she mumbles, her mouth full, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk. Usually it’s Flynn or Rose doing that, with me reminding them of their manners. But with Jules, it’s just cute.
Without Jules, there is no way I would be so unrested for the day ahead of me, half naked, eating cold pizza in bed. No way. Yet here I am. Surprisingly at ease.
With Jules, I canbreathe. Like the world isn’t going to crumble if I don’t plan out the following day’s schedule, check the accounts, answer questions from West Oil’s board members. Like it’s okay to slack off, have a body-draining sex fest and refuel with weird, artisan pizza. Around her I feel less stiff, a little more relaxed.
Well, most of me is less stiff around her.
A rogue artichoke falls off my slice and onto my boxers. “This,” I say, pointing to the fallen vegetable. “This is why it isn’t pizza. What kind of pizza has artichokes on it? And also why people shouldn’t eat in bed.” I’m cursing myself for not bringing napkins when Jules leans forward and removes the artichoke with her teeth, wrapping her lips around it and pulling it into her mouth in a way that makes my boxers assume the tent position. She winks at me.
“Have some respect for the Florentini, cowboy,” she says. “And don’t be such a slob.” She air kisses me before inhaling the rest of her slice.
My face hurts from smiling so hard.
She smiles back, and even though it’s lopsided due to all the food shoved in there, she’s never been more beautiful. Her hair, always a bit unruly, is in a top knot, with more corkscrew curls escaped then captured. She’s sitting cross-legged wearing my flannel, the shadow under the tails of the shirt the only thing keeping me from seeing her soft center.
She looks surprisingly youthful right now. Most of the time it’s hard to remember how young she is, given how much she’s accomplished. But after a few climaxes, a cuddle, and pizza, her usual sharp edges have softened.
I smile more, thinking that maybe I had something to do with that. That maybe we could make each other happy. Long-term.
I laugh at myself for having been so stubborn about the type of woman I wanted by my side. I thought a quiet woman with an even temper who’d be happy as a housewife was exactly what I wanted. Someone very much unlike my wild, uncaring, adulterous mother.
Yet here I am, ready to throw my hat in with a loud, flirty, adventurous woman. It’s true that on the surface, Jules shares some of my mother’s more obvious traits. But whereas Celia Luanne Bellerose West didn’t have any friends or work a day in her life but still wanted everything handed to her all the same, Julie Starr has friends she would die for while living life at the top of her field because she’s worked darn hard to get there.
It’s funny how when you try so hard to avoid something, you really just end up blinding yourself to what’s really there. Because you’d have to be blind to think Jules is anything other than loyal and steadfast to those she loves. Hell, she’s willing to put up with my grumpy butt and take time off from her career, all to make her friend Jackie happy.
“What are you laughing about?” Jules asks after taking a long swig of beer to wash down her pizza. Watching her neck work while her lips are around the top of the bottle isn’t helping my boxer tent situation.
“Nothing.”
“Is that so?” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, only to lick her lips when she catches sight of my erection.
“You see something you like, space cadet?”
She picks an artichoke off the pizza between us and pops it in her mouth before closing the cardboard box and pushing it aside.
“Did you know I was in the Air Force?” she asks, shifting on the bed, folding her legs under her.
“Um, uh yeah.” Her change of topic, and the slight glimpse of heaven between her legs, has me blinking.
“Did you also know that I grew up on military bases around the country?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“And now, as a United States astronaut, I’m a federal employee.”
It’s my turn to lick my lips when she starts unbuttoning her shirt. “Uh huh.” I usually pay close attention when Jules reveals some tidbit about her past, but with each inch of skin revealed my brain dies a little.
“I’d say that makes me one of the more patriotic people in this country. I grew up around the flag and I’ve proudly worn our country’s symbol on uniforms and flight suits.” She slides the last button free and the shirt gapes open, exposing a long line of skin and the inner swell of her breasts. She leans forward, running her hands up my thighs and over my red, white and blue boxers. “I do so love the flag.” Her low, sultry voice hardens my cock further.
She finds the front opening in my underwear and pops my dick through. Happy to be in her hands again, it twitches.
Jules laughs. “Did your penis just jump?”
“It twitched,” I correct.
She does that head tilt I love so much and smirks. “Twitched?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah. It tends to do that around you.”
