Chapter 12
TWELVE
Penny
There was a moment out in the snow where I thought he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t.
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do.” I say, falling onto the couch.
Hazel watches me, book in hand, and shakes their head, “I’m not a relationship expert by any means, but have you tried talking to him about it?”
“This isn’t a logical sort of talk, Hazel, I’m looking for you to bring me down to earth, not feed my delusions.” I grab a throw pillow and clutch it to my chest.
Our meeting seems almost clandestine, with the low light from the lamp on our father’s large hardwood desk, the deep jewel-toned wall and the dark wooden bookshelves lining the far end of the room.
It’s always been our father’s haven and his favorite room in the house.
I have fond memories of doing my math homework in the large comfy chair, despite it being my least favorite subject in school.
My twin nods and continues to make a show of reading.
“The book is upside down, by the way.”
Hazel sets it aside then leans back against the desk, “I knew that.”
I smile so big it almost hurts. They have always known how to make me feel better, ever since we were little. The R2-D2 to my Threepio. Hazel isn’t only my twin, they are also one of my best friends.
Of course, now I’m thinking of Asher. He knew exactly when I was feeling uncomfortable downstairs and pulled me back. He’s been coming to my rescue since the first day back in Harrington Park.
“I’m just saying, Penny. I don’t know any man who would brave being taken home for Christmas, let alone to meet our family, if he didn’t have feelings for you.”
“And I complicated things by sleeping with him,” I shove the pillow over my face.
“Hold on. Rewind.” Hazel stands and crosses the room to sit beside me. “You should have led with that.”
“I was in heat and we agreed it meant nothing. We even said it was a pause in our arrangement,” I explain into the fluffy fabric.
Hazel tosses the throw pillow onto the floor, “Who brought it up? You or him?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters.”
“I did, I think.” I furrow my brow and groan, “Ugh, I don’t remember.”
“If you did, you closed the door yourself. No level of delusion can remedy that.” Hazel places their hand over mine. “Talk. To. Him. You’ve been like this since we were little. Sometimes you have to ask the world for what you truly want.”
Hazel’s right, and I’m mildly annoyed they’re right.
We leave the study, and I climb the stairs up to my childhood bedroom. I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve had a man in there. Though I doubt Asher is going to be searching for my nonexistent diary to find out who I was crushing on in the 10th grade.
When I open the door, Asher has changed into a pair of festive plaid lounge pants and a plain black t-shirt to sleep in.
It almost seems surreal, seeing his large form there with my light blue walls, white bookshelves and purple floral sheets.
At least most of my stuffed animals are at my apartment or down in the garage.
He finishes zipping up his suitcase, a smile already playing on his lips like he’s got a secret. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah, I got caught up talking to Hazel downstairs,” I say, taking the time to admire his wide muscular shoulders and the hint of his soft stomach as he leans over.
“Good.” His eyes do a slow sweep down my body, and his smile grows.
There’s no way my pink holiday pajamas with candy canes and cutesy presents are that entertaining.
“Okay, what is it?” I fold my arms across my chest. “What did you find?”
“Nothing embarrassing.” He shakes his head. “Though I am curious, are you more of a Justin or a JC girl?”
“Oh my gods.” I groan and rush over to fling my closet door the rest of the way open.
There in its eternal glory is my altar to NSYNC, composed of magazine articles and promotional images I printed out on our family printer and then secured to the back of the door with a mix of bright pink and blue decorative tape.
Maybe it would have been better if he had found my diary after all.
“They were very popular.” Asher says.
I sigh and then level my finger at him, “You don’t get to judge me. You have boy band hair.”
“What do you mean I have boy band hair?”
“It’s all wavy and shiny and effortlessly falls into your eyes” I flail out a pantomime.
“Is that the reason you like me?” There’s a deeper, almost teasing quality to his voice which sends a rush of heat to my stomach.
“One of many, actually.” I blurt out.
Our eyes meet, and his playful expression is gone, replaced with something more serious. As though I’d called his bluff and we’d both ended up showing our cards. The truth catches in my throat, and I’m stuck in his gaze like a deer in headlights, counting out the seconds before my next breath.
This time, Asher is the first to crack. He blinks and looks away, “So I was thinking you should take the bed and I will sleep on the floor.”
"What? Why?" I follow his gaze to my full XL mattress, which was always enough space for my 5’3” self, but might be a tight fit for both me and Asher. With a bit of human Tetris, I’m sure we can manage. “Someone could walk in, and then I’d have to explain why you were banished to the floor.”
There is a ghost of a smile as he nods to himself, “Yeah, you’re right. Get in first and get comfortable, and I’ll turn out the light.”
I slide under the covers, the cotton sheets are cool against my bare calves. It takes everything in me to resist the urge to rub my legs together and burrow under the blanket like a nest. Instead, I roll over onto my side and stare out the window at the snow-capped trees, bright from the full moon.
Asher turns off the light then the other side of the mattress sinks down and I’m enveloped in his muscular arms. His breath feathers against my ear, “Is this okay?”
“Uh-huh,” I murmur, my body going as stiff as a board.
“Mmm, good.” He sighs and then drapes his arm across my stomach and pulls me closer against his chest.
It feels amazing. I wanna stay here with him, in this exact position, for the rest of my life. However, there is one slight problem. I can’t sleep.
I’m wired from the mix of excitement and anxiety from today to the point my body wants to jump up and do a couple of laps around the house, preferably barefoot in the snow. To make matters worse, based on the steady rhythm of Asher’s breathing, he’s already crashed out.
There is no other option but to stay perfectly still and count sheep until exhaustion takes me.
“Penny?” Asher murmurs. The sound is too close to a moan; it momentarily short-circuits my brain. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m having trouble falling asleep.”
“What helps?” His fingers trace lazy circles against my stomach.
Don’t say, masturbating. Do not say masturbating.
“Princess.”
The combination of the stern tone in his voice and the nickname causes the response to fly out of my mouth. “I usually masturbate.”
Asher moves behind me, and there’s a change in his breathing, “I could help you, like before, if you promise to be quiet.”
I turn my head and whisper, a breath away from his lips, “I promise.”
Slowly his fingertips drag over my pajama top, they catch along the bottom hem and pull the material up as his palm finds the edge of my breast, those smooth, scaled fingertips teasing my nipple into a hard peak.
Asher kisses my neck down to my shoulder, his low moans setting me on fire. “You’re so soft.”
The sensation was like sinking into a warmth bath, heat spreading through my body until I’m arching my back begging for more contact. I pluck his hand from my breast and direct it down under the waistband of my shorts.
His large fingertips snake under the elastic of my panties until he drags a single digit through my folds and over my already aching clit.
I bite off a whimper, pulling my lower lip between my teeth to silence myself.
“You promised you’d be quiet.” He whispers in my ear.
“I—”
Before I can react, Asher shifts and positions his large membranous dragon wing over my side of the bed. It blocks out the moonlight and causes his voice to echo slightly.
“We don’t want to wake up the rest of the house, do we?” He drags his finger along the seam of my pussy to gather my slick then circles my clit with firm strokes. “I love how you’re always so wet for me.”
I let my legs fall open and move my hips to grind up into his palm, greedy for more pressure, the blunt tip of his claws a tease along my entrance.
“Hmm, is that what you want?” He asks. “Do you want me to fuck this pretty pussy?”
I close my eyes and nod.
“Tell me, Princess. Tell me what you want.” He groans in my ear and kisses along my jaw.
“Yes,” I whimper, “fuck me.”
Asher continues to rub my clit, his circles slowly move lower until he slides his finger to its hilt, before pulling it back out, repeating until I am rocking into his thrusts. He laughs, the sound low and addictive, then hooks a second finger into my pussy and draws out a moan.
The pressure of his palm against my clit winds me tighter, and my orgasm takes me by surprise. I have to bite my lips again to keep from crying out until I’m nearly panting.
“Such a good girl.” He whispers and slows his movements, then his fingers slip out of me and cup my pussy possessively. “Get some sleep, Princess.”
I want to protest, but I close my eyes and fall asleep, safe in his arms with his wing draped over me.