26
VALENTINA
Pain in my ass: Are we sleeping at your place or mine tonight? I need to know if I need to pack my pj’s and chips.
Me: It’s a game night. We’ll be sleeping but not together. Don’t you guys have to stay in a hotel? I thought Waggers likes you all together.
Pain in my ass: He’s not making us this week. He put us on a curfew. So what’ll it be? Fuzzy teddy bear onesie, or silky black boxers?
Me: You do not own either one of those.
Pain in my ass: image attached
Me: Of course you would. What was I thinking? A sleepover isn’t a good idea.
Pain in my ass: Why? Don’t you miss me? It’s been days since you drooled on my chest.
Me: You asshole! I do not drool.
Pain in my ass: Yeah, and you don’t snore either.
Me: Wow. You must really want to sleep alone tonight?
Pain in my ass: image attached
Me: What’s that?
Pain in my ass: Matching jammies. So what’s it gonna be? Teddy bears or black silk?
Me: You’re crazy.
Pain in my ass: I know, and you love it. Pick one or I’m bringing both and we’ll have a little intermission costume change before act II.
Me: Intermission? What, you don’t have enough stamina to last all night?
Pain in my ass: Oh, mi Reina. You’re going to get yourself in trouble. When I finally get to have all of you, time will become just a concept. I’ll bring both and we can decide later.
Me: Big promises from such a young boy. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.
Pain in my ass: I didn’t know you liked biting. I can nibble on you, no complaints about that. See you soon, gorgeous. Wear something sexy.
Me: How can I wear anything when you have my clothes?
Pain in my ass:
I push the empty chip bag down into my trashcan, underneath other wrappers and discarded banana peels to make sure the evidence can’t be found. Rushing to the bathroom, I swish around some mouthwash and do a second round, just to be safe.
If Nic smelled or tasted the remnants of those damn pickle chips on my tongue, I’d never hear the end of it.
Especially because he said I ate like a bird at dinner.
I had salmon and squash for crying out loud.
But by the time I got home, the carb craving kicked in.
And since I thought our goodbye at my front door was the end of our night (where I pushed him away because he has a game tomorrow, and we can’t stay up all night) I ran to my pantry to pull out the half full bag and quickly devoured them.
Now this fool is saying that he’s planning to sleepover at my place and I’m dressed in my bum clothes and pickle chip dust all over my face and fingers.
I grab the room spray and spritz my room to clear away any smell –can they do that?-- and put everything back into its place before he can see even a hair out of place. It’s a problem, I know. My sisters called me Monica Gellar growing up. And yes, I have a closet no one is allowed to touch.
The doorbell rings and I take a few calming breaths before that man takes it all away. He’s got my head spinning and my feelings turning topsy turvy. The strength I thought I had a grip on so well has weakened, and I assume it will be any minute now that my heart goes too.
Getting to know him, the deeper him, has my brain checking off all the items on her “must” list.
Must be a good listener – check.
Must be compassionate – check.
Must be responsible and value success – check…for the most part.
Must take my breath away – checkity check check.
Must be good in bed – yet to be determined.
Due to my own convictions of making him work for me, I’ve left that door closed.
It’s not locked and to be honest, it’s cracked open.
And the man has definitely worked. One minute he’s sweet and funny and pretending I don’t swoon when he surprises me with my favorite drink, or some flowers, or a bag full of candy that I tell him I don’t need when I so desperately do, and then next he’s walking across the field with those thick thighs, chiseled arms, licking and biting his lip while he stares directly at me before he winks.
Every inch of my body, inside and out, is on fire for him and I’ve just recently run out of water to douse it. He’s about to engulf me with no chance of surviving the aftermath.
I straighten my spine and put a pleasant smile on my face. Nothing that matches what I’m feeling inside, but says “hey. So glad you made it.” When I open the door and see him standing there, that composure elbows me in the throat and says “fuck off bitch. He’s mine!”
He stands in grey joggers –I’m pretty sure men get a handbook and a few pairs of those when they get inducted into the hot men hall of fame– a Drillers t-shirt, and a backwards cap.
A large duffle bag hangs off his shoulder and in his hands he holds a garment bag and in the other…
a grocery bag stuffed full of those damn chips and ice cream.
It looks like a go-to emergency kit for a pregnant woman. It’s not, but I’m just saying.
“H-hi.” My voice is breathy and I tingle so much my toenails quake.
“Hi beautiful.” He smiles and leans in, planting his lips on mine with a tender kiss. “I was expecting you to open the door in just your birthday suit.”
Biting my bottom lip, I decide to just go for it. “Maybe you could help me out of this and into something…less constrictive.”
The look in his eyes changes in a flash and he advances on me like a cheetah spotting a wounded animal in the open savannah. I stumble backwards and he kicks the door closed, dropping everything he’s holding and scoops me up, tucking me close to him as if I’m the game winning ball.
I’m rushed past the living and practically hurled onto my bed once he crosses the threshold of my room. I barely have a second to gather myself before he’s attacking me once more.
“I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to push you, but you’ve gotta know…” He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s in pain. “My sanity is crumbling, Valentina.”
My eyes search his, seeing nothing but hope and truth and even pain. I’ve teased him, given him just enough to “ hold him over ”, and he’s respected every ounce of my hesitation. But why am I hesitating?
It’s silly because I want what he wants. I feel that same pain because my body is begging my brain to quit over-analyzing everything, but that’s just who I am. The few times I broke free from my own restraints, I ended up with a broken heart and an even stronger resolution to not let any man in.
But I’m tired of being the strong one. I’m exhausted from holding up this ice exterior. Nico’s heat has set fire to it all, and the snow queen is about to take a great fall.
“Let me help you pick up the pieces and make you whole again.” I stroke his stubbled jaw and bring his mouth down to meet mine.
His usual rapid style of attacking me fades away and in its place slips the patience of a man who knows that taking his time will be worth the wait.
Carefully he rises, his nostrils flaring as he inhales, and he runs his hands up my thighs.
They skate over my hips and slip under my t-shirt.
The rough skin on his fingertips scratches my skin and I shiver.
He lifts the shirt and I raise my arms, allowing him to pull it up and over my head.
Cool air rushes over me when my breasts fall free and my nipples harden.
Slowly he descends and begins laying soft kisses all over my face.
From my closed lids to the tip of my nose, across my cheeks and finally stopping on my lips.
He licks the seam, coaxing them open. When his tongue caresses mine, I melt.
The way he kisses is so sensual. Too many men are in and out like a serpent.
Not Nic. The way he kisses is like a slow, passionate fuck.
Yes I said fuck because his soft kiss is also deep and fierce, strong enough to suck the soul out of my body.
He continues his journey down my body, stopping to worship my breasts and running his tongue over each rib. It’s like he’s letting his prey know that there’s no stopping him from devouring it. A warning.
When his fingers dip into my leggings, he rolls them down one inch at a time, and glides them smoothly off of each foot. He’s too good at this and I don’t want to know how he became such an expert. But an expert he is when he runs his nose up my leg, sniffing my scent and tasting as he goes.
My body trembles and I wonder if he’s going to go to the place he has yet to enter.
His fingers have become well acquainted there, but his mouth has yet to meet.
I don’t have a leg to stand on because my hand is the only thing he has felt.
But tonight I plan to change that. And thankfully to my intrusive friend, the floors –as she said– are freshly waxed and ready to be danced on.
I dare to look down where he lies and find him looking up at me. Our eyes hold each other, unblinking and unmoving. He’s focused solely on me, and me on him. My breathing is shallow and I feel like I just can’t grasp enough air.
One side of his mouth quirks up in a cocky lopsided grin and a gleam in his eyes fills me with nervous energy. Still watching me, he sticks his tongue out and swipes slowly through my seam. I moan and drop my head back, my elbows falling out from under me, too weak to hold my body upright.
His thick and nimble fingers hold me wide and he continues to lap me up.
My fingers dig into the bed and I fist the sheets, gripping them as I try to anchor myself.
But it does little good when my back arches and my heels dig into the mattress.
The way he sucks and licks and nibbles on me has me climbing the walls.