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“Do you generally win your games by getting naked?” I asked, adding the cards to my stack.
Flippantly, she tucked her bangs behind her ear and said, “It’s a new strategy.”
“Not a very good one.”
“That tent in your trousers begs to differ.” Tap, tap, tap. She lost her battle with a nervous little giggle when I narrowed my eyes on her, tonguing at a molar to keep from bursting out laughing. She paused after my turn to sip on her cocoa, and I did the same. Only, her hand swatted out with cat-like efficiency, pushing the cup up and dipping my face in whip cream.
Yep. Should’ve seen that coming. Fighting a smirk at the elated laugh that burst from her lips at the sight of my whipped cream beard, I slowly set aside my drink, snatching hers and adding it to the tray before pushing it back to a safe distance.
My eyes locked on hers for a beat before she yelped and tried to flee. Too little too late, because I already had her wrist gripped in my fingers, locking her in place as my other hand snaked around her waist. She reared back, trying to keep her face away from mine as I dove forward, pinning her to the couch, scrambling to secure her wrists above her head and transferring them into one hand before burying my mess of a face between her breasts. She shrieked with laughter, and I smiled as I popped up, shifting my weight over her body, making sure she could feel that erection she kept pointing out.
“You know, when I’ve thought about covering you with whipped cream, it was in a much more dignified manner.”
Her frantic giggles came to a breathy end as she grinned up at me, full breasts heaving against my chest. “Is there a way to be dignified while covered in whipped cream?”
“Laying naked on my bed so I can decorate those tiny nipples before sucking them off sounded nice to me.”
“I agree. Much more sophisticated than you motorboating my boobs,” she said firmly. My brows rose, smirk hooking wide as her gray-blues went round and she barked, “Don’t you dare!”
Her attempt to squirm away just got me harder, and I ground my hips into hers to hold her steady, still pinning those delicate wrists in one hand as I bent down and did exactly that, coming up with a full face of whipped cream and my woman cackling so hard tears formed in her eyes.
“You know, I thought you on your knees for me would be the only time I enjoyed seeing your mascara run, Pix,” I said as I leaned onto my elbow, releasing her wrists. “This might be better.”
El couldn’t compose herself long enough to articulate a comeback. Every time her laughter tapered off, she’d make this hilarious little humming sound before erupting back into giggles. One delicate hand found its way to my face, and she smudged away the sugary topping, popping a finger between her lips as hysterical machine gun bursts of laughter escaped.
I shook my head, snatched her hand and slowly slid a finger in my mouth, sucking it clean and reveling in her mouth hanging open and eyes sliding closed, before ruining the illusion of the moment by releasing her hand and lapping straight up the valley between her breasts instead.
Elora
Our whipped cream war resulted in an impromptu shower, and me wearing Broderick’s oversized hoodie and my lace undies with nothing else, while we cuddled up back on his gray sectional to watch Inception. By the time the movie ended, we were both teetering on a sugar coma and completely exhausted. Broderick finished brushing his teeth and ducked into his room before I’d wrapped up my skincare, so I wasn’t shocked to find him already gloriously shirtless and in bed when I came out of the ensuite. He had one knee propped up to brace a book where he could keep it at eye level, but his eyes strayed to mine as I closed the distance.
“Gosh, it doesn't matter how many times I watch it, it’s just one of those films that leaves you questioning everything you think you know, isn’t it?”
“Kinda the point, Pix.”
“It’s like a dream inside a dream inside a… well, you know. And fuck, that ending gets me every time.”
“Maybe we’re living inside someone else’s dream right now,” he teased, waving a conspiracy hand around, his book falling to rest on his thigh.
“Maybe! You don’t know,” I insisted as I flopped onto the mattress beside him. “I hate open ended plots. Unless there’s a sequel to tell me how it concludes, I can’t deal with it. Because then the questions just torture me forever.”
Patting the pillow beside him, Broderick skipped my dramatics with a subdued smirk and said, “Come on, baby. Under the sheets.”
“You probably love open ended plots.”
“I do,” he confirmed simply.
“Endless room for theorizing.”
“I do enjoy theories. Come on, come get under the blankets with me, and then I won’t make you move until morning.”
“Ugh,” I whimpered. “My abs hurt. You laughed me new abs and now they hurt.”
He chuckled before admitting, “Actually, my face is sore, now that you mention it. Are smile-ups a thing? Because my cheeks feel all bruised.”
“Serves you right.”
“You started it.”
