AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh, I don’t know… that makes sense.”
“Should I apologize?” Nick asked, not panicked, not worried, but inquisitive, almost daring me to say yes, as if doing so would have consequences. I crossed my legs again.
“No need.”
“Then I’ll go next.” Nick reached for a first base card, which he seemed to immediately appreciate.
“I’m already dreading it.”
“No, no. It’s a good one. You can tell a lot about a person by how they answer this, and you only have two choices, no context… ‘Top or Bottom’?”
Seriously?
“Mmmm. If I were with you… I’d ride on top.” I reached for a card to move on, but Nick’s hand hovered over the stack. I stopped short of touching him.
“Why top?”
I slowly removed my hand, then rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “Just… better control.”
“Over me?”
“Over… how I’m entered.” I avoided his face, scanning his shoulders down to his massive hands. “You’re a big guy. I’m not sure if I could take all of you. On top I can slip down easier.” Did I really just say that out loud?
Nick furrowed his brow. “You a tight girl, Elena?”
God, his deep voice was enough to cause my bad decisions to play out. “Maybe.” I maintained a poker face. “I mean… with the right person I can get wet easily, but it takes a while to adjust.”
“And by adjust you mean, stretch?”
The way he enunciated the word stretch was as sharp as it was precise, his inflection settling into my stomach. I had bit my tongue to keep from laughing, not that it was funny, but completely surreal.
“Yes. That way I can move my hips. Bounce. Rub.” I paused, then spoke quickly. “If I can fit you completely inside, then I can grind myself on your body. And that’s something I like.” I said matter of fact. The alcohol was clearly bringing out my honesty, “Or, on anyone’s body for that matter.”
Nick’s nonresponse was just as much of a response than anything. His cheekbones chiseled and creased with a spontaneous dimple. I wanted him on the receiving end of embarrassment, taking my chance and immediately reaching for a second base card. I expected the look of fear on his face, but his narrow focus seemed to hone on the potential challenge to come.
“Nick,” I began confidently, “‘Fuck me, marry me, or date me?’”
“Seriously?”
“Blame it on the cards.” I flicked it in his direction.
“And if I don’t answer that?”
“Then… you remove a piece of your clothing… one of my choosing.” I pointed in his direction, hoping he’d answer, but also secretly hoping he wouldn’t.
He dragged his hands down his face, contemplative, his large index finger tapping the dip below his nose.
“I’ll skip that one.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I won’t answer that.”
“Bit of a prude?”
“Not in the least,” he chuckled. “I’m just more curious as to what piece of clothing you’d choose to remove…”
Conservatively speaking, I had a lot to choose from. Jacket or boots were an obvious and kind choice, possibly turning me into the very same prude I accused him of. A part of me wanted him to regret his choice, and a part of me wanted to enjoy something new I haven’t seen of him before.
