Chapter Twenty-Five
Joey
From superhero to robot
Who knew I’d be turned on by Shakespeare quotes?
Or that I’d enjoy being fucked while hearing it from Theo’s mouth?
Hottest thing ever.
It reminded me of that scene from the movie I watched in my teens with Jamie Lee Curtis and John Cleese,A Fish Called Wanda. Where she creamed her panties whenever he’d speak in a foreign language.
Except for me, it was when Theo began throwing out lines from the various plays he’d memorized from college and I’d literally jump his bones.
It was almost comical, had it not been so sensual and erotic.
But the contradiction between how Theo used those lines and what we’re watching now makes it very difficult for my brain and body to reconcile. I’m sprawled out on a blanket on the park lawn, in between Theo’s legs, as we watch a live performance ofThe Taming of the Shrew.
My back is pressed against Theo’s chest as I stretch out in front of him, a light blanket placed over my lower half to ward off the chill in the night air. There’s a short intermission and we’re just lounging, chatting and drinking some wine, while other’s stand and stretch around us.
To make matters worse, his fingers have been absently stroking up and down the length of my arm, and he nuzzles my neck with his nose from behind, nipping and biting my earlobe.
Goose bumps breakout over my body and it feels like my body is a livewire. I close my eyes and wish all the other people around us away so he can have his way with me.
Theo chuckles behind me, his nose nudging my ear as he whispers. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
I turn my head to the side and peer into his hazel eyes, which are more golden tonight than they normally are. Perhaps it’s from the stage lights or the stars above.
It strikes me how much I like Theo. We’ve only known each other for a short while, but I can’t imagine my day-to-day life without him now.
I’ve dated my share of men, but never wanted or needed anything stronger than some sex and affection. Being on my own was liberating and I didn’t have to conform to anyone else’s expectations. Perhaps that’s left over from growing up in my mother’s house. The constant nagging to be someone I wasn’t.
It’s entirely different with Theo, though. He likes me for who I am. Not who he wants me to be.
I admire his tenacity and aspirations.
He’s told me how down on his luck he’d been – where all he’d hear was rejection after rejection of his work. But instead of giving up when the going got tough and it seemed everything was a loss, he picked himself up by his proverbially boot straps and kept going. He hasn’t let obstacles detour him from his charted course.
Not only that, but he’s just a kind hearted, gentle man. My first impression of him was all wrong. Okay, maybe my entire impression of him was warped from the beginning and I was way off base. Theo wasn’t anything like I thought he was.
In this moment, I know I want more. I don’t want this to end after we’re done with the play and after Patrick returns home from China.
But I can’t say any of this to him now. It’s too new between us. And everything feels like it’s on a balanced scale. One slight adjustment on either side and it could tip us over.
Theo’s naughty grin has my belly doing flips. His lips are within inches of mine and I want to suck his bottom lip into my mouth and tug and lick it. And then I want other parts of his body – much plumper than his lip – inside my mouth.
“I don’t know about you, but I was thinking what a twisted man Shakespeare was. His plays are so messed up.”
Theo ravishes my mouth and when he lets go, he says, “That’snotwhat you were thinking.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Oh really? And how exactly do you know what I was thinking?”
His hand slides stealthily down my arm, past my waist and underneath the blanket, where it lands at my center. Where everything tingles.
His voice is low and husky, the warmth of his fingertips penetrating through the material of my shorts, hitting me smack dab between my legs.
“I can read you. And you were telling me what I already know.”
