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He snorts.
I kiss the crook of his arm and inhaling the musk of him, decide there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than pressed up against this man.
24
SANDESH
Iroll onto my side and watch sunlight play across the lean curves of Justice’s sleeping body. At some point, the stitches in her side bled through the bandage. The bloodstain is dry and dark now. There are other scars here and there, some savage, some delicate.
They tell a story of survival and sadness. Such an amazing person, complicated and interesting, caring and dedicated. I move closer to her, pressing my hard-on against her smooth leg.
Eyes still closed, she smiles.
I press closer and she giggles, turning so that her sleek, wet core is right against me. That’s exactly what I wanted. “Oh, Sandy, did you want something?”
Sandy? I haven’t heard that since grade school. Not a fan. “You. In every way imaginable. Back, front, over, and under me.”
She laughs in a way I don’t like. I know enough about Justice, learned through repeated exchanges, that she likes to joust. If last night was any indication, sometimes her jousting involves games of teasing. I do not want to be teased right now. I want to fuck.
Maybe she needs convincing. I run a hand along her breast and the tip perks up.
She hums an “Oh”, then grabs my hand and pushes it aside.
Yep, Justice wants to play.
She bats her big, dark, magic and mystery eyes at me and begins to sing that song fromGrease. Which is a boner-killer, nearly.
Honestly, how can anyone ever be stranded at a drive-in? Aren’t there like a thousand people there with cars? “Stop that.”
She sings faster, louder now wanting high school to be done.
The stanzas aren’t even in the right order. “You’re bringing up some really painful childhood memories.”
She laughs and keeps singing.
Smiling myself at her joy, I cover her mouth.
In a flash, flames spring into her eyes. She knocks my hand away, rolls on top of me, and glares down. “Don’t ever put your hand over my mouth.”
Why did she just react as if I’d held a knife to her throat—oh, shit. Her history comes back to me with excruciating awareness. Boundary alert times a thousand. I’m such an idiot. “Sorry, Justice, I wasn’t thinking.”
Seated on top of me, she waits like a cat for a mouse to come out of its hole.
Feeling awful and regretful, I don’t move. Well,mostof me doesn’t move. Part of me is swelling against her. I’m not sure what it says about my degenerative nature that I’m hoping we can get past this and have sex. Preferably soon.
That cat-like smile on her face and an equally mischievous glint in her eyes, she starts singing that song again. This time, there’s an air of teasing.
I guess all is forgiven and we’re back where we started: with her issuing a challenge to my manhood.
I’m game.
Driving my hips up fast and hard, I lift her into the air, shoot up into a seated position, then catch her carefully in my lap, so that we’re face-to-face. On equal terms.
She curses and glares at me, and I begin to think I’ve misread the situation. It would really help my reasoning abilities if a pissed-off Justice wasn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and if my cock understood when to stand down. Her wetness pressing against me is sending an entirely different message.
Trying to manage my feelings and hers, I put my hands on her shoulders. “Stop squirming, Justice. I want to talk.”
Her left fingers snap out, jab me in the neck, and send me into a coughing fit. I’m struggling for air when she pushes me flat onto the bed, straddles my middle, and presses her knees onto my biceps, grabbing my wrists. Damn it, how did I misread her so completely?
