Rhiannon shakes her head, delighted. “Eight thousand! And Cain touched every single one of them last night!”
Laughter erupts around the room. Alessia even chuckles too, her posture loosening as she slides her foot onto yellow but maintains her social distancing. I match her stance, the proximity growing slightly tighter now that we’ve got our limbs on two spots.
Rhiannon’s eyes glint with mischief. “Time to up the stakes. Natasha, Eden, you’re in. Go join Gabriel and Alessia.”
They jump up eagerly, and it hits me, this is about to get crowded. Put four grown adults on one Twister mat and chaos is inevitable. For me especially since I’m easily two times the size of these women and much less coordinated.
Rhiannon spins the tiny black pointer again. “Left hand, blue. Question is how often do women orgasm during penetrativesex?”
Natasha and Eden toss out their guesses, ones that I don’t pay attention to because I’d rather not know what they’re thinking, and all eyes shift to Alessia, who looks suddenly nervous and unsure.
“Um, five percent of the time?” she ventures.
My gaze darkens as it settles on her, cutting straight through that easy, offhand tone she’s pretending to wear. Five percent?
If that’s actually been her experience, then the men she’s been with clearly didn’t have a clue what they were doing.
“One hundred percent of the time if they’re with me,” I respond.
Rhiannon laughs, Natasha and Eden make some sort of groaning noise and Alessia finally looks at me.
“You’re all wrong. It’s twenty-five percent of the time for intercourse, eighty percent if oral is performed. Move your arms, kids.”
We shift. This time, I watch Alessia move first, mapping my strategy around her. Eden and Natasha claim the spots closest to me, leaving me with no choice but to stretch my arm all the way across Alessia’s back. And the position we end in, well, let’s just say I’m practically hovering over her body underneath me, legs spread wide, my body angled far too suggestively for polite company.
My pelvis brushes against her ass and it takes everything inside me to breathe and not fall on her. It’s been a long time. Okay, since that kiss that she gave me a few weeks ago, since I’ve touched a woman’s body. Since I’ve reallynoticeda woman’s body. And before that, it’d beenmonthssince I’d had sex.
“You could’ve gone under me,” she says, twisting her head slightly to meet my gaze. Her eyes are the darkest shade ofchocolate, warm and wounded, but there’s a new ease there now—something that’s a tiny bit softer. She’s having fun. And that’s what matters most to me tonight. She needs friends. My family can be her friends. That’s all she really needs right now.
I lean in slightly, “Would you like me to change positions?”
Her eyes widen a fraction. “I mean, if you think you can without falling and losing.”
I laugh. “Don’t underestimate my agility.” Or maybe she should. You hit thirty-years old and your whole body begins to crack like a glow stick which means making this change might be dangerous.
I do it anyway. I shift, slipping my arm out from over her and sliding underneath her instead. Flipping onto my back with my hands holding me up in a position that’s not comfortable and I’m certain I’ll pay for tomorrow; I splay out like a starfish. One hand is on yellow, the other on blue. My legs stretch just enough to brush against the colors in front of us, and Alessia’s hovering above me now, arms trembling as she tries to hold herself up and not touch me.
We’re in some sort of cowgirl position that looks extremely suggestive and wholly destructive.
“Um,” she breathes, wetting her lips—a move that sends my pulse spiking. “My arms are shaking. I might fall on you now.”
I smile up at her, our lips practically a breath apart. “So, fall. I’ll catch you.”
The room fades. The laughter, the game, the pizza and the margaritas, my family watching—none of it matters anymore. It’s just us, suspended in this charged space, waiting for the shift. The moment where everything breaks.
I hear Rhiannon spin the board again, barking out a question but it’s too late for either of us to notice or catch it because her arms are giving out, a surrender both literal and figurative, and she’s collapsing onto my chest.
I catch her, of course, but that means I also lose my arms which sends us both in a thud to the floor. She lands against me; her curves molded perfectly to mine in a way that feels so fucking good. I brush a strand of her dark hair from her flushed face, our eyes locking. There it is again—that tension, that pull. Wounded, nervous, but undeniable desire is shining through.
“You okay?”
She bites down on her full bottom lip and nods. “Yeah. Are you?”
I smile. “Never been better. Let’s get out of here,” I whisper so that only she can hear that part.
She nods, a little breathless, a little nervous, but fully committed now. “Okay.”
Rhiannon’s voice shatters the bubble when she deadpans, “Well, you two are obviously out of the game. You’re touching every color and spot at the same time.”
