“Kelsey, what the fuck are you doing in here?”
“Great question.” I offer him a thumbs up. “And I have an equally great explanation. You see, I went to grab my dinner when I heard this noise. I thought it was a ghost or a murderer, or even a suffering animal, like a squirrel caught in a wall or something like that. You never know in these old buildings. Anyway, I thought I’d check it out, and then when I got closer, I thought you were being stabbed. It really sounded like a stabbing, not that I listen to stabbing noises, but, you know, the movies prepare you for such sounds, so I came in here, attempting to scare away the stabber.”
He stares at me, his face falling flat. “With a wooden spoon?”
“I didn’t say I was being smart about it. I was just trying to be a hero without a plan. I see now that maybe that wasn’t the best idea.”
“You should’ve fucking knocked. Jesus.” He winces, and because I can’t help myself, I glance down at his pillow and then back up at him.
“Did you get to finish?”
“Does it look like I got to finish?”
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe you were in the middle of coming when I came in.” I reach out and touch the tip of his nipple—still not sure why. “Your nipple is hard.”
He takes a step forward, closing the space between us, and pokes my nipple, dead center.
“Ow,” I complain, covering my nipple.
“Your nipple is hard. Does that mean you’re coming as we speak?”
“Don’t poke my nipple like that. It hurts.”
“It didn’t hurt.”
“Yes, it did.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“YES, it did!” I say as I reach out and poke his nipple the same way he poked mine. He doesn’t even flinch. So, I do it again. And again. And—
He pokes my other nipple.
A gasp pops out of me as I cover that boob, too.
The actual audacity of this man.
“I can’t believe you poked both of my nipples.”
“You poked mine,” he says, standing there in a face-off, testing me.
“This isn’t a tit for tit type of thing.”
“Is this something you do often to know the rules about it? Barge in when someone’s jacking off and then start poking their nipples?” He pokes my hand.
I grow angrier and poke him back.
He pokes me in the chest.
I poke him in the abdomen.
He swats my shin with his foot.
I cry out in shock and then swat at him with my foot, followed by a poke.
He fakes me to the right and then pokes me on the left.
“Urgggh.” I release both my breasts and go in for a double poke, but he’s just swift enough to poke me in the nipple one more time before stepping away. Before I know what I’m doing, I run at him at full force and tackle him to the ground, his pillow falling to the side, me falling on top of his stomach, straddling him.
