He pulls the condom off and ties the top before dropping it to the floor. Then he stretches out next to me. He runs a hand up my side to my throat.
“Sweet women who smell like flowers and who plan weddings for turtles shouldnothave magical pussies.”
I stare at him.
Then suddenly I’m giggling. “Who told you about the turtle wedding?”
He grins. “I knowsomuch about you. Everyone here loves to talk about you.”
“I’m not sure that’s good.” I did plan a wedding for turtles, but there’s a lot more to that story. Like the owner of one of the turtles having a terminal illness, and it making her really happy.
“Well, it definitely didnotprepare me for how fantastic fucking you would be,” he says.
I laugh again. “You thought it would be bad?”
“I thought it would be great,” he assures me. “But I thought it would be…”
I lift a brow.
“Not the end of my world as I knew it.”
I really like this.
“Sorry,” I say.
He shakes his head, tracing his finger over my collarbone. “I don’t think you are.”
I’m not actually. The idea of Alex in his fancy Portland apartment, in his huge fancy shower after a hockey game, jerking off and thinking of me because he can’t get over tonight isamazing.
Ridiculous. But amazing.
That’s maybe not nice of me.
“I’ll let you have a few more ‘hits’ of your new addiction,” I say.
He runs his hand down, over my breast to my ass, and pulls me in. “Oh, will you?”
“For sure.”
He starts to nuzzle my neck, but I decide to tease a little more. He’s a good time.
“But…” I say.
“But?”
“I need to refuel.”
He lifts his head quickly. “Do you have more banana pudding?” he asks hopefully.
I laugh. “I don’t.”
“Dammit.”
“But I have bananas.”
“Okay.” But he’s disappointed.
I have definitely messed up this guy’s habits and expectations.
