“You’re going to be so good for me, aren’t you?” He rewards me immediately, picking me up and helping me move over to his lap. I settle my back against his chest, my ass against his cock.
He eases my knees apart, kissing my ear. My eyes roll back. This must be what heaven feels like. Then Alex’s fingers slip down my panties, parting my seam, and circle my clit. He uses the specific pressure that he figured out weeks ago and has been using against me ever since. This time, I don’t even bother to stifle my moan.
“There’ no one listening,” he says. “You can be as loud as you want, Freckles.”
By the time Mothra makes her entrance, I am gripping the armrest with one hand and fisting hisshirt with the others. My hips work steadily, my head is tilted back, and the air is full of my moans. His fingers work me in slow, relentless circles while he murmurs things against my ear in that low voice that nobody else gets to hear. Things about how good I feel and how wet I am and how he's been thinking about this all day.
I thrash, trying very hard not to make a sound in this empty cinema. Trying to act like a person with dignity, and I’m losing badly.
"Come for me," he says, almost a whisper. "Right now."
Mothra destroys downtown Tokyo as I press my fist against my lips and come so hard my vision goes white at the edges.
As I come down, Alex adjusts my clothing, pulling my panties back into place and smoothing down my dress. I sit there for a full minute, just breathing him in while the film continues.
"Feel good?” he asks.
"I hate you," I tell him. It sounds weak, even to me.
He picks up his drink. "You really don't."
He's right. I really don't. That's the problem.
After the movie is over, Alex and I take a walk, strolling aimlessly in the dark late summer night. He offers me his hand and I hold it as we amble through downtown. He keeps stealing looks at me, like he’s notsure if I’m real or if I’ll disappear between one block and the next.
I squeeze his hand. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
He runs his thumb over his lip and shakes his head. "Going out with you has been a fantasy of mine for three years. Taking you to a movie, holding your hand, all of this stuff is just… surreal."
I pull at his hand, stopping him. He's watching me with that steady blue gaze of his. Tilting my head, I slide my hands around his neck. He’s tall enough that it’s a stretch for me.
Three years. Before I joined the team. Before the fire and the houseboat and the Godzilla marathon and all of it. Before the stalking even started, presumably.
I tug on the string of his hoodie, drawing him closer. I always seem to need him closer, no matter where he is.
“Alex,” I tease. “Should I ask you to be my boyfriend or something?"
It comes out like a joke. I mean it as a joke, I think. My heart is doing flip-flops in my chest and I'm using humor to manage it. Which is a thing I do, which I’m sure he knows.
“Well, Freckles.” He pins me in place with a look. "It seems like the logical next step, don’t you think?"
My jaw drops. "You're serious?"
He purses his lips and takes his time to answer. "I'm always serious when I'm looking at you like this."
My heart squeezes. "Okay," I say.
"Okay?"
"Okay, yes. Will you be my boyfriend?" I feel delirious. "This is a very strange way to ask someone out."
"It was going to happen eventually," he says. "I meant what I said. It seems like the next step."
I lick my lips. "And what about Beck? What should we tell him?"
“I’ll tell him.” A flicker of unease lights his face for a moment. “Unless you don’t want me to?”
I can’t help but giggle. Alex never seems to lack confidence or question if he’s doing things the right way. But just now, he’s a nervous teenage boy. And it’s pretty damn endearing.
