“No.”
“What if I’m willing?”
“Are you willing?”
“That depends. Does the pirate king look like you?”
“He looks exactly like me.”
“Does he smell like you?”
“Yes.”
“Does he like his head rubbed?”
“Yes.”
“Does he need a pirate queen?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m willing.”
“Then you can have some fresh air.” He pursed his lips and blew into her ear.
“Stop!” She shrieked and wiggled underneath him.
“Your struggle is futile.”
“Is it?” She wiggled some more. “But futile means producing no result.”
“Yes.”
“I think I’ve produced a result, George.”
“You have?”
“A result that’s getting bigger and harder by the second.”
“What do you think we should do with that result?”
“We could ignore it, and it would go away eventually.”
“Not the right answer.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper as she moved her legs out from under him and pushed her hips up against him. “We could put it inside me.”
“But if I let go of your arms you might batter me with your little fists.”
“Or I might use my hands to rub your head.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He released her arms and raised himself off her to bring one hand to her mound. “Is this where you want your result?” He touched her, slid one finger into her wetness and teased her.
“Mmmm.” She bit her lip as her own fingers traced lines from his forehead to his occiput and back and she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Yes, please.”
