“Mm,” she hums in appreciation. The bottle that was brought to us is much more expensive than what she ordered. I’ll thank Paul tomorrow.
Scooting up a little, I grab one of the strawberries and hold it up to her lips. She takes a bite and catches a piece of chocolate on her thumb.
Calypso leans forward, sliding her pussy against my dick as she does, and slips her finger in my mouth. I lick the chocolate off, letting the sweetness melt on my tongue, when Calypso takes a larger swig of the whiskey and kisses me.
There’s no timid introduction to this kiss. With her hand at the base of my throat, she pushes me further into the pillows and bites my bottom lip, demanding entrance. The lingering taste of whiskey blends with the chocolate, but it’s the familiar sweetness of Calypso that is the most intoxicating.
With my hands on the back of her thighs, I roughly jerk her body up a few inches and she lets out a low whimper at the friction.
She stares down at me with a heady gaze, her strawberry-blonde hair creating a curtain around us. Her tongue skates along her bottom lip, considering if she wants to kiss me again.
Instead, she whispers, “Let’s play a game.”
Amused, I tilt my head, waiting for her to continue. We’ve played those silly college games with her siblings a fewtimes. Lexi and Vivi love them. Usually, something new or funny comes from it regardless of how many variations we play.
Calypso has never been the one to suggest it though.
“Which one?” I ask at her silence.
She takes another sip, thinking it over. “Two truths and a lie.”
I shrug and reach for the glass. “Sure.”
After I take my drink, she grabs it and refills it. “If you guess wrong, you have to drink.”
“You first.”
Thinking it over, she mindlessly unbuttons my shirt. Only the first couple but she doesn’t notice herself doing it. Her hand slips through the fabric, resting on my bare chest.
“I don’t know how to ride a bike; I was fifteen when I lost my virginity; and I thinkAnywhere but Hereis one of the best albums ever.”
Squinting at her, I think it over. She has a lot of Mayday Parade memorabilia, so that seems more than reasonable. I lost my virginity at fifteen, so that doesn’t stick out to me either.
What kid doesn’t know how to ride a bike?
“The first one is the lie,” I say.
She hands me the glass and shakes her head. “I never cared to learn, and I’ve never needed the skill once in my life.”
I take a drink and tip the glass at her. “Fair enough. What was it then? Your virginity?”
She shakes her head. “No, I was fifteen.” She doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t need the details. Knowing it wasn’t Stefan is enough. “Anywhere but Hereis a great album, butA Lesson In Romanticsis one of the closest things we have to perfection.”
“The only correct answer,” I joke and lift the whiskey glass back to my lips.
Her fingers brush against my skin while I think, and her other hand sits suspiciously close to my zipper.
I’m hard as fuck. I have been since she first climbed onto my lap, and I don’t try to hide it. I’m also not going to fuck her on the sundeck.
Unless she wants to be.
Clearing my throat, I say, “My first girlfriend broke up with me because a psychic at the mall told her to; in middle school, Paul had to tell me to stop coming in my socks; and I was arrested three times in high school.”
Her mouth drops with each word. “Oh my God,” she says and snickers. “I don’t know because there’s no way I heard any of that right.”
Smirking, I shrug. “You have to choose one.”
Taking the glass from me as if she anticipated the drink, she taps her nails on the side.
