Mmm, smooth. His skin had been smooth, too, I remembered before I could stop myself. Almost hairless except for a thin happy trail and a trimmed patch around his cock. The glide of my dick inside him had been smooth, too.
Annnd there went my dick again.
“Hold this?” The brush projected over my shoulder again, startling me out of my thoughts, and I reflexively took it as Jamison went back to work braiding. We traded the brush back and forth a few times, and within a few minutes he’d fully braided the length of my hair and was proudly snapping the elastic onto the end of the braid. “There.” He dropped the braid, and I felt the weight of it slap against the top of my back. “That actually looks pretty good, considering this is my first time trying it.” He paused, then stroked a finger down my braid. “Do you want me to take it out, or leave it like this?”
“Leave it,” I managed hoarsely, then quickly leaned forward to snag my glass and take a drink.Get your mind out of the gutter, Hen, I urged myself.You’re friends.When that pep talk didn’t cool my dick down much, I stuffed a handful of pretzels in my mouth, nearly choking myself.
Well, it wasn’t fun, but it did calm down my would-be erection. I could be thankful for that. I turned out of the sideways posture I’d assumed for the braiding and sat back against the back of the couch, feeling Curie bat curiously at the end of my braid as my head came to rest near her paw. I reached back to pull it out of her grip and took the opportunity to run my hand over Jamison’s work, evaluating. “Not bad,” I told him, offering a smile. “Especially for a first attempt. Half the time when I do it I find strands just sorta hanging out on the sides afterward and then I have to decide whether to re-do it or just deal.”
“It was probably a lot easier for me considering you wouldn’t be able to see what you’re doing on your own head,” he pointed out. “I kinda can’t believe you can even do it blind.”
“Eh.” I shrugged. “You get the hang of it.”
Jamison picked up his glass, which was empty of liquid, and sucked an ice cube into his mouth. I tried not to drool at the sight. He rolled the ice around in his mouth for a few seconds, then released it back into the glass. That probably should have been disgusting rather than hot, and yet somehow…
I coughed, forcibly breaking my gaze away from his lips. “So, uh,” I squeaked out, “what now?”
Yeah, great, Hen. Demand he entertain you. That’ll make you popular.
He cocked his head to the side consideringly, then reached out a finger and pushed an escaping strand of my hair behind my ear, bringing up goosebumps on my skin yet again. The man had to be trying to kill me, there was no other explanation. “Another drink?” he suggested.
It was fifty-fifty whether another drink would suppress my libido or enhance it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to take the chance. Plus, the last time we’d gotten drunk together hadn’t ended very well. Well, it had been a damn enjoyable fuck-up, I allowed mentally, but still, there was fucking up involved and we didn’t want to do that again. I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice caught. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “We could, uh, watch a movie?”
“Netflix and chill?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me playfully. “You bad boy.” He reached out and flicked the end of my braid with the tip of one finger.
I choked on my own spit at his teasing. “No,” I hastened to get out through my attempts to clear my throat, “I just meant…I mean…we don’t…” I was turning bright red again and this time I wasn’t sure if it was the embarrassment, the choking, or both.
Jamison giggled. Giggled! “You’re fucking adorable.” He pinched my cheek, grandma-style, and I winced. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Hen. If you want me toleave, I’m happy to take my new hairstyling knowledge and go. Well, nothappy,” he amended, “but I’ll do it without a fuss. Or, if you want to hang out a bit more and watch a movie - literally - I’m cool with that too. Or whatever else you want.” There went his eyebrows, wiggling again.
I blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “I don’t have anything to eat.”
“Huh?” He looked at the coffee table, where the bags of pretzels and chips still sat alongside our empty glasses.
“No, I mean…” I shook my head and tried to gather my wits. Why did just existing in the same vicinity as this man fuck so hard with my ability to express coherent thoughts in English? “If we watch a movie,” I explained slowly, “that’s a couple of hours. By which time it’ll be dinner time, and I don’t have anything to make for dinner.”
He blinked slowly at me. “What,” he ventured, “wereyougoing to eat, then?”
Um…huh. That was a good question. “I guess takeout,” I said after thinking about it for a few seconds.
“And not having any food in the house is what’s stopping you from wanting to hang out some more with me?”
What was the right answer to that?No, mostly I’m afraid I’ll beg you to touch dicks with me, would be the honest answer, but I wasn’t sure we were in a place for that level of honesty. “Well, I mean,” I began cautiously, “I don’t want to eat up your whole day, either. And then the food. And…stuff.”
“Stuff?” His left eyebrow went up. Oh, he could move them separately. Interesting.
What had I been thinking about?
Oh, right, excuses. And whether I wanted to make them, even if I had them.
“I don’t want you to feel obligated to hang out,” I half-lied quickly. “Like, just because you’re here doesn’t mean you need to stay and entertain me.”
“Honey.” He laughed lightly and reached over to stroke a hand down Curie’s back. She arched under his ministrations and I couldn’t help thinking that I’d probably be doing the same thing in her position. “I don’t feel obligated to do anything with you. If I did, I wouldn’t have invited myself over to begin with. I’m having a good time here. And not only because I got to play with your hair.” The hand that had been running down Curie’s back stayed on its path, moving from her back to my shoulder, still stroking softly. I shuddered. “Feel good?” he murmured.
I nodded before I could think better of it.Dammit, Hen, this isn’t a booty call. He’s just a touchy-feely guy, but that doesn’t mean anything.
He picked up his hand and started the circuit again. First, Curie, who purred under his attention, and then on to me, who wanted to do the same. I couldn’t help but lift my shoulder slightly, trying to keep it in contact with his hand as it drifted away.
“So, food,” he said out of nowhere, startling me out of my trance.
