Page 92 of The Perils of Paulie
“It’s only fair since your tongue makes my knees turn to marshmallow. To hell with it. You can just be uncomfortable.”
I climbed over the seat again, but this time I first removed the heavy blanket from Dixon, then draped it like a blanket fort over the seats so we were hidden from view. I proceeded to do an intricate and cramped shimmy that rid me of my T-shirt, jeans, and assorted undergarments. “No, don’t get up. You can sleep on the seat—after I’m done having my wicked and wholly wanton way with you—and I’ll sleep on you. Damn, man, you got out of your pants fast!”
I wasn’t even through speaking before Dixon, evidently realizing what was on my mind, had shucked his shoes, socks, pants, and underwear. I helped him pull his shirt over his head before sitting on his thighs, feeling the lovely smooth, warm flesh of his belly and ribs. “I approve of your plan,” he told me, taking my breasts in both his hands, which simultaneously pleased my boobs to no end and made me put an immediate halt to my idea of tormenting him with an endless array of touches, licks, and kisses so steamy he’d be putty in my capable hands.
“Putty!” I said mindlessly, writhing around when he sat up enough to take one breast in his mouth.
“Putty is good,” he said around a mouthful of nipple. “I like putty. I like both your putties.”
“I like a man who likes my putties. Breasts. Nipples. Whatever you want to call it, I like you liking it, but you’re not letting me like you.”
He stopped molesting one very needy breast, and I felt, rather than saw, the question in his eyes.
I slid my hands up to gently pinch his nipples. He froze beneath me. “You make me so mindless with pleasurethat I can’t do the same to you. Lie back. No, my boobs are fine now. Wet, but fine. They’re happy and want me to return the favor.”
“I don’t have the same sort of nerves in my nipples that I understand women have in theirs—” he started to protest, but the second I bit down ever so gently on one, he almost came off the seat.
“Putty!” he shouted, and dug his fingers into my hips when I attended to the second nipple.
I giggled. “I was trying to say that I was putty in your hands, but that’s all that came out. Dixon?”
“Dear god, woman, you’re stopping?” He lifted his head, presumably to glare at me. “Now? Right this minute?”
“Yes, but only because I’m going to make your eyes bug right out of your head in the very best cartoon manner.”
“You are? How are you— Lord, yes!”
I had slid down his legs while he was speaking and taken his penis in both hands. “Now, let me see if I can do this in the dark.”
“Sweetheart, you can do anything to me you want in the dark,” he said with a profound note of gratitude in his voice.
“Really? I’m going to remember that when the race is over and I want to tie you down so I can use any number of sexual devices on you.”
“What sort of sexual devices?” he asked, sounding very interested. That made me pause for a moment. We hadn’t ever talked about adult devices, and although I had a single woman’s usual collection of items that kept me from jumping every man I saw, it hadn’t occurred to me that he might have a male-oriented version of my box of toys.
“Do you like toys, too?” I asked, inadvertently waggling his penis as I spoke.
“Depends on the toy, and why are you using my dick to gesture with?”
“Oh.” I looked down to where I could barely see the dark blob of his body. “I talk with my hands. Sorry. I expect you’d rather have action now than chitchat anyway, right?”
“Are you, by any chance, nervous about something?”
I sighed and gave his penis a friendly “so glad you understand me” squeeze. “It’s the fact that someone could lift the blanket and see us. I’ve never been an exhibitionist.”
“Would you rather we tried to get sleep instead?”
Absently, I tickled his balls. “No. I don’t think anyone is going to peek in. And I really am desperate for you. The way your wet shirt stuck to your chest all day—I know it must have been horribly uncomfortable, but holy hellballs, Dixon, it just made me want to lick your entire chest.”
He squirmed beneath me, his hips moving with little jerks. “Paulie,” he said after a moment where I was remembering his wet-shirt-covered chest. He sounded breathless, as if he had been out jogging.
“Hmm?”
“If you don’t stop in the next five seconds, you’re bound to be disappointed with my performance.”
I stared at the blob that I knew was his head and wondered what the hell he was talking about, until it struck me that his hips were moving faster and faster. “Wow, you really are anticipatory. And so hot. And dammit, are you bigger?”
He laughed, a rough laugh to be true, but still a laugh. And with some maneuvering, he managed to let his fingers go wandering in happy territory, where he was greeted by my intimate parts with much cheering and celebration. “I assure you I’m the same as I’ve always been.”
