“Yes, like . . . I want to know the benign things about you. I feel like I know you on a deeper level from the conversations we’ve had, but what about the stuff you’d put in your dating profile? I don’t know those things.”
“Well,I love having sex with Blakelywould be something on my profile.”
She gives me a look. “If you like having sex with me there better not be a dating profile.”
“I’ve told you before, Blakely. I found what I’m looking for. I’m good.”
That brings a smile to her face as she leans forward and lightly kisses me.
When she pulls away, I continue, “But if you want to know the—as you call it—stupid stuff, I’d be more than happy to tell you whatever you want to know.”
“Okay . . . how about this? Why don’t we ask questions and for every question answered, we get to remove a piece of clothing.”
“I’m down,” I say. “You took my shirt off so I think I owe you an answer.”
“Good point.” She sits back on my lap as she asks, “What’s your favorite color?”
“Agitators purple,” I answer.
“Are you just saying that?”
I shake my head. “No. I really like the color. And I think I’ve seen it so much that I’ve become accustomed to it now.”
“Oh, that’s cute then. Okay, your turn. Ask me a question.”
“Who’s your celebrity crush . . . besides me?”
She rolls her eyes. “Uh, well, depends on the kind of mood I’m in. If I want someone big and burly, I really have a thing for The Rock.”
“Solid choice,” I say.
“But if I’m looking for someone on the smaller side but could still carry me around if I needed to be shuffled through a jungle like Tarzan and Jane—”
“A circumstance that happens quite often.”
“Obviously.” She taps her chin. “I think it would have to be Tom Hiddleston.”
“Do you think he could Tarzan you around the jungle?”
She nods her head. “I truly do.”
“Okay, then Tom and The Rock it is.” I tug on her shirt and bring it over her head, revealing a see-through lace bra. “Christ, Blakely,” I mutter as my hands find her breasts, her hard nipples pressing against the thin fabric.
“You’re growing hard.”
“Your fault,” I reply.
She plants her hands on my chest and starts to rock over me.
“Keep doing that and you won’t get all your questions answered.”
“Try having some patience, Halsey.”
“When it involves your wet pussy, I have zero patience.”
“Question time. Focus. If you weren’t playing hockey, what would you be doing?”
“Melting away into nothing,” I answer.
