Kip
“That guy is going to be your boyfriend—just follow my rules.”
“Which rules? The rules we made up to keep you in line or the ones you’re about to pull out of your ass?”
She has no faith in me, none whatsoever. “The ones I’m about to pull out of my ass.”
Teddy crosses her arms over a perfect set of tits, and they push up into the low neckline of her black, off-the-shoulder top. It’s tight, tucked into a pair of jeans, a simple pair of black boots skimming her kneecaps.
Understated and sexy, not that anyone here will notice.
Don’t get me wrong, she looks pretty tonight, but she’s still a tad too unassuming, with that I require dinner, a drink, and long-term commitment before I’ll let you fuck me vibe, despite her efforts to the contrary—despite her obvious attempt to look sexy.
“At least you’re honest.”
“It’s my only virtue,” I admit, setting down the red cup I was handed on my way into the house tonight.
If I’m going to be playing matchmaker—correction: if I’m going to be her hairy godmother—I’ll need to face this whole thing sober.
If you thought the idiots who lived and partied here were annoying sober, imagine how annoying they are when they’re drunk.
Though they’d be easier to tolerate if I got piss-ass drunk along with them.
Half the time, I want to plant my fist right into the faces of a majority of these dickless morons, so I need all the sobriety and inhibition I can manage.
I can’t believe I’m trying to set Teddy up with one of these douchebags; it’s such a shitty thing for me to do, knowing what I know about them. Take Ben Salter, for example—the creep is almost flunking half his classes, only able to maintain his enrollment status by sleeping with any and every TA who will fuck him.
Male or female.
And Derek Lawson? Last year he was on meds for the various STDs he claims originated from public toilet seats. Right. Sure.
Another two are spoiled, pompous, trust fund babies.
Granted, technically, I’m one too, but I don’t go parading my parents’ money around, flaunting it like a little asshole. My parents might be loaded, but I’m not a completely classless fuck.
Only some of the time.
“What do you think of my outfit?” Teddy asks from below.
“It’s good.”
“Just good? I had to borrow this shirt and these boots from my friend Tessa—I don’t have anything that shows skin.”
“Yeah, it’ll do.”
“Wow, okay—thanks for the vote of confidence. I thought I looked nice.”
“You do. Relax.”
“What the hell, Kip? You know I’m not good at this, and you said you’d tell me if my outfit was shitty.”
“It’s not shitty—you look cute.”
Her hands are on her hips now as she faces me, red-faced and disgruntled, the lines between her brows deep. “Whatever. Can we just get this over with so I can go home?”
“Don’t be a quitter, Teddy.”
“You know what? I put in a lot of effort tonight and you… That hurt my feelings.”
“What did?”
“God, why are you so clueless?” She throws her arms up, defeated. “When I asked how I looked, you said ‘It’ll do.’ That was so freaking mean.”
“Hey, don’t get upset. I can barely see you down there, shorty. Is that a dress or a shirt? I can’t see the bottom.”
“Shut up.” She relents, giving in to a laugh.
“Seriously, Teddy—you do look really cute. Don’t listen to me. I’m an asshole, remember?”
“Yes, you are.”
“You’re not supposed to agree with me.”
“Agreeing with you isn’t one of the rules.”
“Rule Eleventy…”
***
TEDDY
“You’re hovering.” He has been on my ass since I got here, grunting and snorting throughout every conversation I’ve tried to have.
“No I’m not.”
“Oh my god, Kip, yes you are. Who is going to talk to me when you’re shadowing me like a lurker—it’s weird. We said three feet, but could you please go away!”
He hasn’t left my side all night, and he’s definitely come closer than the mandated agreed upon footage. I can literally feel the heat from his body on my back.
“You don’t have to get all pissy about it. I’m trying to help.”
“How is tailing me going to help? You’re scaring people away—and not just the girls. No one wants to talk to me.”
“Shut up, I am not scaring anyone away—Tyler Wheatly had no problem coming over.”
I huff, crossing my arms. “To talk to you. You’re huge—no one even notices I’m down here.”
“I notice you’re down there.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you don’t count.”
I catch his long sigh. “I can see down your shirt, you know. Of course I’m going to trail you all over the room. It’s not a bad view.”
He can see down my shirt? “Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?”
“Teddy, I can see down everyone’s shirt—it’s not like your tits are the only show in town tonight.”
“I don’t know how to reply to that.” I glance down at my chest, at the lackluster cleavage peeking up above my modest neckline. “I barely have any skin showing.”
“Bullshit. If those were popping out any farther I’d see nipple.”
The nerve of this guy! “You told me to wear something that would show off my boobs! I even put on a push-up bra, and trust me, the straps are digging into my skin. I should find the bathroom and take it off.”
That does the trick, and he backpedals. “I changed my mind. A guy should want you for your brains, not your tits. Pull up the shoulders on your shirt.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” My palm goes up and I pop it in his direction to shush him. “Know what? I can’t deal with you right now.”
“Well you’re going to have to, because we have an ironclad agreement.”
“Agreements are meant to be broken.”
“Iron. Clad.”
“Ours was made over eggs and sausage—I was hungry and tired. That has to count for something—duress, maybe?”
Arguing with him is worse than trying to have a serious discussion with a drunk frat boy—out of hand and impossible.
I poke him in the bicep to get his attention. “Did you have to be such a jerk to Mariah before?”
“Yes.” Nonchalant and unapologetic, Kip leans against the wall. “She deserved it.”
When I arrived with my roommate not too long ago and we found Kip waiting for me on the far side of the room, Mariah wasted no time leaning into him, crooking her finger so he had to lean down to hear what she had to say. I watched, dismayed as her lips grazed the shell of his ear, followed by her tongue. Watched as his glower deepened with every word she spoke until he straightened up and told her she was a shitty human.
To her face.
“She was hitting on me.”
“No she wasn’t. She was just flirting.” In her special way. “She’s always like that.”
I mean, maybe she was hitting on him. I have no way of knowing; Kip refuses to tell me what she whispered in his ear…before licking it.
“She was hitting on me, Teddy. Not flirting.”
I poke him. “What did she say to you?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
He’s right. I don’t.
But I kind of do?
“Maybe you misunderstood her?” God, what am I saying? Even I know whatever she said to him, there was probably no way for him to misinterpret.
“Teddy, she was hitting on me, knowing you were here to meet me. She licked my fucking ear and bit the lobe—that is fucked up.”
She bit his ear lobe?
I blanch.
He’s right; she did know I was coming to hang out with him and she did it anyway. Licked him. Bit him.
A little knot loops itself around my stomach and tightens. Squeezes into a dull ache that moves to my chest.
Kip’s truth hurts.
“But she knows it’s not like that with us.”
He studies me, stroking his beard. “Did you tell her that?”
No.
I don’t have to say it out loud—he can see it written on my face, and he smirks, one corner of his lips tipping up…I think? His beard is covering his mouth, only the bottom lip jutting out in an irritated fashion. Briefly, I can’t help but wonder what his top lip looks like, if he has an arched bow, if the rest of his mouth is full or thin.
I give him a once-over, starting at his booted feet, moving up his long stretch of leg. Glancing over his red shirt and unzipped blue sweatshirt. The tan skin. The hair.
He’s kind of…
A sight to behold.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” His brows are raised. “Please stop.”
His tone makes me laugh, and I jump at the opportunity to change the subject.
“You look like Thor, for heaven’s sake. Thanks for doing yourself up tonight.”
“Doing myself.” I can hear his chuckle over the sound of the music. “Sounds about right.”
“You’re so immature.”
“You’re so welcome.”
“That wasn’t a compliment, Kip.” My eyes land on the royal blue hair band around his topknot. “How the hell did you get your hands on a scrunchie?”
“My sister is an asshole and sent me a box of them, okay? Because of my man buns.” He fingers the scrunchie in his mop. “I thought this crushed velvet one suited the occasion nicely.”
“First of all, how do you know that’s crushed vel—you know what? Never mind.” I squint up at him. “What’s the occasion?”
“Our debut as a team.”
“Jeez, please don’t call it a debut. I predict this will be our one and only hurrah.”
“It’s a debut—unless you have a better word for it?”
“No, I don’t.” Frustrated, I throw my hands in the air. “Because we do not need to be calling it anything! My god, why are you like this?”
Kip cocks a brow. “Okay, now you’re starting to sound like my sister.”
“Someone I bet I would really love from the sound of it. Tell me more.”
“I’d really rather not. She’s a pain in my ass.”
“Is she tall?”
“I guess? Five ten or something.”
“Whoa. Are you parents tall?”
“My dad is, not my mom.”
“Hmm.” I consider this. “So it’s like a family of giants.”
“Basically.”
Just then, we’re interrupted for the first time in an hour—since we’ve been here, it’s just been the two of us entertaining ourselves with beer, banter, and small talk.
The guy is tall too—though not as tall as Kip—and handsome, in a pretty boy kind of way, a gash in his lip lending a rugged air. Hair tussled, he’s got on a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and jeans that look like they could stand to go through the wash.
“Hey Sasquatch. What’s up?” He gives me side eye and a smile, holding up two red cups.
“Not much, Lynwood.” Kip steps forward, inching farther into what’s supposed to be a three-foot chasm, chest bumping my back.
I step away.
He follows.
Dammit!
“Who’s your friend?” the guy asks.
“This is Teddy.”
Lynwood smiles. “Like the bear?”
“No, dipshit.” Kip is already irritated, and his friend has only been standing here for about seven seconds. “Like the name.”
Oh lord.
Lynwood ignores Kip, turning to me; giving me all his attention. It’s weird, in a way, his brown eyes shining a little too bright. His smile a little too wide. Wolflike.
I don’t think I trust him.
“Teddy, I’m Steve.”
I shyly brush a lock of hair behind my ear. “Hi.”
“Jesus,” I hear Kip grunt, and I want to elbow him in the abs—then I remember rule seven. I’m not allowed to punch him in the gut. Crap.
I need him to stop acting like a dick.
“You thirsty, Teddy?”
I hand Kip the cup in my hand and return my gaze to Steve. “Sure.”
He hands me one of the two red cups he brought over.
“Thanks.” I go to put it to my smiling mouth. Aww, how thoughtful of him to bring me a drink.
But it’s yanked out of my hand and away from my lips.
“What the hell, Kip?” He is such a savage.
“Give me that.”
He plucks the cup from my grasp, hands it back to Steve, and then looks down his nose at me.
Sniffs indignantly before flaring his nostrils. “Rule number eighty that everyfuckingbody knows: never accept beer from a dude handing it to you at a party. Ever. It could have drugs in it.”
My brows shoot up—I hadn’t thought of that. Then again, Kip has been with me most of the night and I haven’t had to. He’s the best watchdog a girl could have.
Steven’s lip curls up. “What the hell, Carmichael?”
“I’m not saying you drugged her, dipshit—I’m talking generalities.” Kip side-eyes Steven, shooting me a pointed look. “But still, I mean…he could have.”
“You are so unbelievably fucked up, man.” Steve huffs.
“What-the-fuck-ever, dude—she should know better.”
“You’re an asshole.”
The curse words keep coming as they begin to argue, in the middle of the living room, for the entire party to see.
“Piss off, Lynwood.”
This sure escalated quickly.
“You think you’re tough shit because you’re ten feet tall, but you ain’t shit.”
Kip’s nostrils flare. “How about you walk away—she’s too good for you anyway.”
“Fuckin’ A, Carmichael. I wasn’t even interested in her to begin with. Look at her, Jesus—she looks like a kindergarten teacher.”
Wait—what does that mean? Did he just imply that I was homely? My mouth drops open—I’ve never been insulted to my face before.
“What did you just say?” Kip moves forward, chest practically bumping Lynwood’s if not for their drastic height difference. “How about you watch your fucking mouth.”
“I’ll say whatever the hell I want, you giant freak.”
“Get the fuck out of my face,” Kip thunders.
“Not a problem, asshole.”
Kip rolls his eyes, tired of the conversation, appearing so bored I expect him to check his fingernails. “You called me an asshole already, you asshole.”
Steve storms off, weaving his way back through the crowd, and I watch his brown head bobbing above the throng until it disappears from sight.
“What. Just. Happened?”
“Not worth your time. He’s an idiot.”
Obviously.
I clear my throat, trying to appear unruffled and unaffected, even though Steve Lynwood’s drunk, biting words will haunt me the remainder of the evening: I wasn’t even interested in her to begin with. Look at her, Jesus.
What the hell did he mean by that?
“Okay, well he’s the third idiot you’ve scared away tonight.”
“Uh, yeah, because they’re all fucking idiots.”
“I’m sure not all of them are…”
“Nope. They are.”
“Including you?”
“Especially me.” Kip lifts the red cup in his hands, putting it to his lips. I watch his throat constrict as he swallows then lowers it, crushing the entire thing in his giant claw. “This party blows, and so do these guys.”
I rub my chin, tapping it. “There’s a blowjob joke in there somewhere.”
“Please don’t make it—the last thing we need is me thinking about you giving blowjobs.”
“If you knew this party was going to blow then why are we here?”
“We’re here because you need practice.”
“Or, I can just find a nice guy in one of my labs, because this…apparently this is not my scene.”
“Or you broaden your dating pool by swimming outside the dork pond.”
“Stereotype much?”
“Yes. Don’t you?”
I scoff. “Pfft, no.”
“Liar—you stereotyped me.”
“Well…how could I not? Look at you—you look like Bigfoot’s cousin.”
“Bigfoot isn’t a real person, Theodora.”
“But if he was—”
“He’s not.”
“For the sake of argument—”
“He’s not though, so we can’t argue about it.”
“Kipling, I swear on all that is holy—”
This agreement is never going to work, and why on earth I thought it would is completely lost on me.
I open my mouth and tell him, “You’re fired.”
“What?”
“This isn’t going to work. You’re too confrontational, and you’re not going to like anyone who talks to me—plus none of these guys are my type. So you’re fired.”
“I’m free labor—you can’t fire me.”
“So we agree this isn’t working? And that we’re done.”
“Fine. Can we just stop arguing now and go to my house?”
He wants to leave? Fine by me, I’ve spoken to almost no guys anyway, haven’t had the chance to flirt, and haven’t seen my friends all night, either.
I’m exhausted.
“You want me to come over?” I can’t hide the surprise in my voice. He wants me to go to his place—again? I thought he didn’t like people there.
He gives me a wide-shouldered shrug. “Sure, why not. You already know where I live—not that I want you dropping by unexpectedly.”
As if I’d do that. “Like I’d be able to find it on my own.”
“Whatever. Just get your shit and let’s bounce. This party sucks but I’m not tired. We can watch a movie or play a game or something.”
Play a game?
“Yeah okay, I could do a movie. And we can leave now, because I didn’t bring any shit. I could stand to run home to grab some sweats, though.”
Kip jingles his glittery car keys. “Sure.”
“Then let’s go.”
I can text Mariah later to let her know I’m not staying.
To be honest, she won’t even notice I’m gone.
***
KIP
Ronnie: Doing
Kip: Why do you do that?
Ronnie: Do what?
Kip: Ask what I’m doing by only using that one word. It’s so freaking annoying.
Ronnie: I know LOL
Ronnie: So? What are you doing?
Kip: Why?
Ronnie: Can’t I check in on you?
Kip: It’s midnight on a Friday—what do you think I’m doing?
Ronnie: I know what you’re NOT doing—a GIRL HAHAHAHA
Kip: You’re funny.
Ronnie: Hey, speaking of girls—what happened with that stray you brought home last weekend?
Kip: Teddy isn’t a stray. And right now she’s in the bathroom peeing.
Ronnie: Whose bathroom?
Kip: Mine.
Ronnie: SHUT UP. SHE IS NOT IN YOUR HOUSE AGAIN??? What?! Stop it.
Ronnie: WHY? Who is this girl and what has she done to you?
Kip: Knock it off.
Ronnie: CLEARLY she has a magic vagina.
Kip: I wouldn’t know.
Ronnie: SHUT. UP. Two weekends in a row and you haven’t slept with her? You have issues, you know that right?
Kip: Yes, I know that.
Ronnie: So you put her in the friend zone? Is she cool with that?
Kip: Trust me, she’s not into me.
Ronnie: Hmm, are you sure?
Kip: She changed out of the dress she wore to the party and into a cow onesie. It’s really unflattering.
Ronnie: Oh. Seriously?
Kip: No. But trust me, she’s not into me.
Ronnie: Did she invite herself over or did you invite her over?
Kip: I invited her.
Ronnie: Okay…
Ronnie: Why would you do that?
Kip: I don’t fucking know, Ron—to watch movies? That’s what people do with their friends.
Ronnie: At midnight on a Friday. Because you always invite your “friends” to the house. Righhhht…
Kip: That’s what normal people do, Ronnie. They have friends over.
Ronnie: NEWSFLASH KID: You are not “normal people” and you don’t ever have people over to your house. Does she think it’s weird you’re not living in a shithole?
Kip: I think so, but she’s been cool about it. She doesn’t gush over it or anything.
Ronnie: Well that’s good.
Ronnie: Does she know what you look like without all the hair? Has she seen any photos lying around?
Kip: There are no pictures lying around, give me a damn break.
Ronnie: So she has no idea how cute you are?
Kip: How do I respond to that? No, I guess Teddy doesn’t know what I look like without the hair—and she’s not going to.
Ronnie: Hairy beast mode.
Kip: Yup.
Ronnie: Suit yourself, baby brother.
Kip: I will.
Ronnie: Still not getting any action, either, are you? Still celibate as a monk?
Kip: None LOL
Kip: TTYL she’s coming.
Ronnie: Coming! Get it! But not from you though…
Kip: **eye roll** Go to sleep.
***
“Why is it so damn cold in here? Kip, I’m freezing!”
“The furnace went out last night and I haven’t gotten anyone to come fix it yet.” I would think that was obvious—it’s not like I’m purposely living in a cold house. “Did I forget to mention that?”
“Yes! You forgot to mention your house was sixty degrees!”
“Huh. Well, whatever—put on a sweatshirt.”
“You invited me over to your place knowing it was an ice box? Thanks so much.”
“Relax! Relax. I’m going to try to fix it myself in the morning.”
“But it’s cold right now.”
“But it won’t be in the morning.”
Her raised brow conveys her skepticism. “Do you even know how to fix a furnace?”
Hell no.
“It’s called YouTube—ever heard of it? I’ll watch a tutorial like everyone else on the planet. How hard could it be?”
Her scowl deepens. “Do you really think fixing it yourself is a good idea?”
“It’s worth a shot before I call someone.” I toss my jacket on the chair in the kitchen and bend to untie my boots.
Teddy does the same, unzipping the gold zippers going down the back of her black boots.
“Far be it from me to judge. You look like you might know your way around a woodshed, but not a toolbox. After seeing you in your natural habitat—white marble tile and high-end everything, I’m not so sure you can fix it yourself. No offense.”
I pause to look up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean…I’m sensing you haven’t really had to lift a finger growing up.”
Obviously she’s correct—I didn’t have to lift a finger growing up. We had cooks and gardeners and maintenance crew to do those things for us. We had a cleaning staff, tutors, and…
In a nutshell, my parents weren’t doing my sister or me any favors preparing us for the real world—something I’ve grown to resent. I can’t even fucking fix a furnace, or unclog a toilet at two in the morning (another thing I had to google), or use a Skilsaw when I wanted to build a shelf in the spare room I use as an office.
I stand, crossing my arms, affronted. “Based on what?”
Her eyes dart around the room then land on the expensive faux fur throw blankets draped over the back of my couch. My mother bought them for me.
“Um…” Teddy bites her bottom lip. “Based on the fact that you probably have a cleaning lady. I bet someone does your laundry and grocery shopping.”
“I do my own grocery shopping.” Most of the time.
“But you have a cleaning lady?”
My lips pull into a tight line.
“Oh my god, stop it. You do not!” Teddy practically shouts into the otherwise silent room. “Do you? Stop. Do you?”
My cheeks flush; I can feel the heat rising up my neck, suddenly embarrassed by my privilege.
“Yes,” I grind out. “Can we not talk about it?”
Another long stretch of silence follows—and for a bit, I think she is going to say something more about it. Am pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t. Relieved, actually, when instead she laughs and says, “That would explain why there is no pee around your toilet bowl.”
I pee mostly in the toilet, thank you very much miss know-it-all.
I walk farther into the living room, knowing she’s going to trail behind after me. “I can totally take you home if you don’t think you can hack it in this cold house.”
She glances down at the leggings and hooded sweatshirt she changed into when we got home. Pulls at the thick material and huffs. “I don’t have anything on underneath—no layers, and these leggings are thin. I think I might actually die.”
“It’s called a blanket.” I lean forward, nabbing one of the fancy throws from the end of the couch, toss it at her. “Use it.”
Teddy huffs again when it pelts her in the face, throwing herself into the corner of the couch. “Fine, I’ll stay.”
“I can take you home if it’s going to be a problem,” I say firmly, repeating the offer.
“No, no, I’ll get over it. Just let me be super dramatic about it for a few more seconds—then I’ll drop the subject.”
I plop down next to her and palm the remote control, pointing it at the television while she sighs and squirms on the cushions next to me, making a bit of a racket, trying to get comfortable. Makes one or two brrr sounds.
Shivers, finally settling on her ass, arms wrapped around her legs.
The look I shoot her is one of exasperation. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I have a few more seconds, remember? Let me be.”
I grin, shaking my head. Fuck she’s sweet.
I jump when she uncurls, her feet sliding across the couch cushions in my direction, moving under the blankets like a snake, icy skin grazing mine and making me yelp.
“Get your cold feet off of me! Warn a person, Christ.”
Teddy laughs. “Let me stick them under your thighs. Please? They’re frozen.”
I can feel her wiggling them before she pokes my thigh with her big toe.
“Jesus, you should go to the doctor and have that checked out.”
“Shut up.” She laughs. “They’re not that bad.”
“Yes they are.” They really are—cold, that is, and they’re cooling down my mesh athletic pants where she’s brazenly slid them under my leg. “You clearly have poor circulation.”
“I do not.” She doesn’t sound concerned, not one bit.
“First thing Monday morning, I’m taking you to the clinic.”
I love hearing her laugh. I love the way her feet are tucked under my legs, body stretched out next to mine, our size difference conspicuous. But nice.
I might be a goddamn giant compared to her, but hell if I don’t feel protective because of it.
We stay like this for over an hour, wrapped up in furry blankets, talking through the movie, chatting and laughing until we’re both yawning.
“I don’t know if I’m tired or suffering from hypothermia,” she quips, dragging the blanket to her chin.
“Both. Definitely both,” I tease, admiring the bridge of her nose backlit by the kitchen light. It slopes gently, the tip of it pert. Cute.
The bow of her lips, bottom one full.
Wisps of hair, gathered up into a topknot just like mine—yeah, we fucking match—some falling out in messy disarray.
She doesn’t give a shit what she looks like in front of me, doesn’t care because she’s comfortable.
When her head tips back onto the couch, her cheek hits my shoulder and I catch her giving me a sniff. Catch her biting down on her bottom lip, head lifting and turning away.
Busted.
Okay, maybe not so comfortable with me after all.
No fucking way is she attracted to me; I would know.
Wouldn’t I?
Guys know this shit, and she’s definitely not interested. Her speed is more the science dorks and history geeks, lab rats and guys with middle-class parents who fish and play kickball on the weekends.
I don’t do any of that shit.
Teddy would shit a solid gold brick if she knew where I grew up and what we did for fun on the weekends, and it sure as hell wasn’t kickball.
Still…
I can’t help imagining what dating her would be like.
Nice.
Normal.
God, normal—what’s that even like?
I’ve been trying to figure that shit out for the past couple years, starting with my move from Notre Dame back to Bumblefuck, Iowa. This house I could do nothing about; my parents insisted on a place where they could install a security system in a safe, discreet neighborhood, a place where reporters and all that other bullshit weren’t likely to look for me.
For a story.
My sister has managed some normalcy in her personal life, marrying a dude she met on a dating app instead of one of the men my parents tried setting her up with—guys they’d hoped would help expand their empire.
Ronnie moved clear across the country to a small town, population three thousand. Bought a house on a lake, doing it all herself. Raising her own kids, doing her own laundry. Regular shit.
Normal shit.
The shit that I want, if even for a while.
I pluck at a strand of Teddy’s hair—the curly tendril falling to her shoulder, rubbing it between my thumb and middle finger.
I expect her to pull away and ask what the hell it is I think I’m doing, but for whatever reason, she lets me play with her hair. Watches me, a sleepy half-smile on her face.
Man she’s pretty.
***
“Teddy…you awake?”
A loud gasp comes out of the dark, from the general area of the bed, and when I flip the hall light on, I find Teddy sitting straight up, squinting toward the hallway, shielding her eyes.
“Dammit, Kip! Did you have to sneak up on me like that? You scared me half to death and jeez, turn the damn light off! You’re freaking blinding me!”
She sure is feisty when she’s woken up.
I lean against the doorjamb. “I’m six foot four—it’s humanly impossible for me to sneak up on anyone.”
“Bigfoot can sneak up on anyone he wants to sneak up on,” she grumbles, trying to burrow deeper into the pillows. “No one has caught him yet.”
“He’s not real.”
A finger flies into the air, pointed in my general direction. “Do not start that crap with me right now or I will kill you.”
“Just sayin’, I prefer the name Sasquatch if it’s all the same to you.”
“Why are you like th—” Her words cut off. “God, listen to us. It’s…what the hell time is it?” She leans toward the table next to the bed, fumbling for her phone. “One o’clock. We’ve only been in bed for half an hour—what’s going on? Why are you in here? Is the house on fire? Is the heat working again?”
“No.”
“Well—what then?” The blanket clutched to her chest gets pulled to her chin.
“Are you doin’ okay?”
“No, Kip. I’m f-freezing my ass off is what I’m doin’.” She mimics my tone. Far be it from me to point out: that is not how I sound.
“I can’t sleep either. You want me to take you home so you can sleep?”
She squints at me impatiently, shielding the light from her eyes with one hand. “Kip, it is one o’clock in the morning. By the time I get home and settle in, it’ll be two. I’ll tough it out—I’ve been camping in colder weather than this.”
“Camping in a tent?”
The look she shoots me is one of pure disgust. “What other kind of camping is there?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
She sits up. “You’ve never been camping? Wow. Considering you look like a yeti, I am somewhat shocked by this news. What else haven’t you done?”
“Can we have this conversation in my room? I’m fucking cold.”
“Like…in your bed?” Pause. “Why?”
“It has a better mattress and a thicker comforter.” Do I really need to explain this? “Come on, I’m freezing. The body heat will keep us warm.”
“Did you read that somewhere in a survival guide? ’Cause we know you’re not outdoorsy. You only wear plaid to throw people off.”
“Very funny, smartass.” But also true. “Get up—come on.”
I give the blanket on her bed a hard yank so it flies off, landing in a heap at my feet, forcing her out of the bed. Haul her covers down the hallway toward my room, the sound of her screeching echoing after me.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Give me back that blanket—I’m not wearing any pants!”
Now I’m the one who’s disgruntled. “You’re cold so you took off your leggings? Where’s the logic in that?”
“Stop talking before I murder you!”
She is so loud when she’s fired up. “I don’t feel sorry for you anymore. Throw your leggings back on and come warm me up.”
“I hate you right now.”
“No you don’t—admit it, you’re relieved I came to rescue you.”
“This is stupid,” she bickers, dragging her feet across the threshold to my room. “We could have gone to my apartment and actually had a decent night’s sleep.”
Pfft. “And risk the chance of molestation by Mariah? No thanks. I’d rather freeze my testicles off.”
Besides, no way would I fit in her bed. Or on her couch.
Her laughter rings out, accenting the sound of her bare feet padding toward my room across the carpet. “That sounds like a definite possibility.”
I toss the extra comforter atop mine and whip back the covers, climbing into my side while she hobbles down the hallway corridor, hopping into her tight bottoms.
Struggle bus, jeez.
“Hurry up, dude.”
I’m almost positive she’s glaring daggers in my direction. “You did not just call me dude.”
“I did. Climb in, slowpoke.”
“Hold your horses—your bed is like, five feet off the ground. I can’t deal with this at one in the morning.” I watch in the shadows, across the mattress, as Teddy attempts to hoist herself off the ground, up onto my California king. “This is way too much work.”
“I’m tall—what did you expect? A mini twin?”
“No, but…maybe. I don’t know anyone with a bed like this.”
“Then you should get out more.”
She finally makes it up, sliding in under the covers and pulls them over her body, leggings back in place, toes rooting their way around underneath the sheets.
In my direction.
“Please don’t touch me with those,” I warn.
“Why?” She sounds whiney. “You let me do it before on the couch.”
“Because you’re a brute and made me let you.”
“They’ll warm up in no time if you let me just…” I feel her toes hit the side of my calf muscle.
I pull it back. “This isn’t a slumber party, Theodora.”
“You think this is what girls do at slumber parties? Tickle each other with their toes?” She laughs. “You are so far off. Besides, I wouldn’t be in here if you had heat. So this is your fault.”
True. “What do girls do at slumber parties?”
“Uh…talk about boys, eat, and watch chick flicks, mostly.”
“That sounds really fucking boring.”
Another musical little laugh comes trilling out of the dark. “Whatever, Kip. Let me stick my feet under you.”
“No way. Get away.” My protests are getting weak, mostly because it’s her, and I find her pretty fucking adorable.
“Well then move closer—you said you were going to share body heat with me. Don’t be a liar, Kipling.”
I haven’t been in bed with or lain next to a girl in—I do a mental tally of the weeks, months—years. A long fucking time is what it adds up to, and I can’t stop my body from reacting to Teddy being under my covers. Smelling her perfume. Breathing the same air. Wanting to share heat.
Body heat.
Shit, this was my dumb idea—what the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t.
I didn’t expect this to be a big deal. Share blankets, stay warm—simple, easy. Any idiot could do this without a problem.
I should be able to do this without a problem; I’ve been keeping people at a distance for years. I friend-zoned Teddy within seconds of meeting her, and she has no interest in me, either.
Except…
Maybe I’ve been fooling myself.
Maybe I’m not as immune to women as I thought I was. Or maybe I’m just not immune to Teddy Johnson—sweet, beautiful, naïve Teddy.
Maybe I knew as soon as I saw her at that first party that we’d end up here. Because she’s different.
She yawns beside me, nestling her toes deeper into the crux of my bent legs, their temperature having climbed twofold.
I don’t exactly hate it.
“You don’t think it’s weird that we’re in bed together?” Her question comes out of nowhere.
“Why would I think it’s weird?”
“Uh, because it’s weird? We’re not even friends—not really. And we’re not dating, but you have this weird…” Pause. “I know you’re protective of me, and I can’t figure out why, but I also know I don’t hate it, either. It’s…nice.”
Right.
“I just didn’t think I’d ever be in some guy’s bed platonically, that’s all. College guys are such pigs sometimes.”
“I’m not a pig.”
“I know you’re not—that’s what I’m saying. Sometimes it’s confusing. You’re not gay, but you don’t date, and you’re not sleeping with anyone. You must spend a lot of time…you know.”
The word she’s looking for here is masturbating.
“Don’t you?” I’m curious. “Spend time doing that?”
“No!” She’s shocked.
“Why?”
“I don’t know how? God, Kip.” The answer—which is in the form of a both a question and a confession—comes out halted. “I can’t believe I just said that. I must be delirious.”
The air around us crackles. Kip bolts upright, twisting his body toward me.
“What do you mean, you don’t know how? Everyone knows how—you put your hand down your pants, move it around, and boom, orgasm.” Sounds like she needs a tutorial of Masturbating for Dummies.
“I don’t think it’s that simple.” She giggles, patronizing me.
“Oh, but Teddy, it is. It really, really is that simple.”
“Yeah, probably because you’ve been jerking off since you were like twelve, and all you really have to do is move your hand up and down on your penis. There’s barely any work involved.”
No comment.
Suddenly I twist my body to face her, bending my elbow and propping myself up in her direction. “So let me get this straight—you’ve never touched yourself?”
“Of course I’ve touched myself.”
I roll my eyes. “The shower to get clean doesn’t count.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, she says,” I tease. “You’re really missing out if you’re not rubbing one out a few times a week.”
She groans, embarrassed. “Rubbing one out? That’s one I haven’t heard before.”
“It’s all part of self-love, Teddy.”
“And I bet you love yourself a whole lot,” comes her low chuckle.
She has no idea.
“Why do you even care?” she asks.
“I don’t. You’re the one who brought it up—I’m just the one who ran with it.”
“Actually, I didn’t.”
“Yes you did. You were all”—my speech gets high-pitched as I mimic her girl voice—“You must spend a lot of time blah blah blah…you know.”
“I do not sound like that.” In the dark, I hear her eyes roll.
“But you did say it.”
“Fine. I’m curious, all right? Sue me. You’re this giant of a guy, who must be—”
She stops herself.
“Spit it out, Teddy. Stop hesitating.” It’s driving me nuts!
“Fine! You’re this giant of a guy who must get…excited a lot. There, happy now?”
“And by excited you mean…”
“Horny, okay?” The words burst out of her. “Thank god it’s dark, my face is on fire.”
Yup. I made her say the word horny, and she sounds horrified, and it’s perfect.
“And you’re not? Horny?”
“Uh…when would I have the time? And please stop saying that word—it’s awful. It’s worst than the word moist. Or squirt.”
She hates the word moist? What’s wrong with the word moist?
“You hate horny? You don’t have time to be horny?” I say it again, twice, just to embarrass her. “You’re shitting me, right? Everyone has time to be horny. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“It’s perfectly normal not to be turned on all the time.”
“No. It’s not.” At least, I don’t think it is.
“How would you even know? You’re not a female.”
“No, but I’ve seen enough of them around campus and at parties to know most are sex-crazed lunatics.”
“Are you high right now?” she barks at me through the shadows. “Who are you hanging out with? Absolutely no one is running around campus like a sex-crazed lunatic, except maybe the guys.”
“False. I am not a sex-crazed lunatic.”
“What are you then? Because I doubt you’re a virgin.”
Definitely not a virgin. “No. I just swore off girls when they became too much trouble.”
“Trouble? How?”
“You know, wanting to get serious and shit.”
“Ah, so you’re one of thooose.” She drags the word out, as if she’s finally cracked my code, satisfaction lacing every syllable. “A commitment-phobe.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Pfft. Try me.”
“Nope. We are not having this conversation.” Especially not in the middle of the night.
“Oh, but we are.” If we were seated at a table, she’d be crossing her arms and leaning back, waiting for my reply like a boss. Giving me the stink eye. Puffing on a cigar, killing me with silence.
“Let’s just agree to disagree, okay? I don’t need to justify why I’m not into dating, and you don’t need to justify why you don’t like touching yourself downtown.”
“Oh my god.”
I uncurl myself, rolling to my back, gaze staring up at the ceiling in the pitch black.
“I have a question for you: what if I like it so much I never want to have sex with a guy?”
“What if you love jerking yourself off so much you never want to have sex with a dude? I don’t even know how to respond to that, Teddy.”
The thought is inconceivable.
“But that’s what happened to you, right? You masturbated yourself single. You don’t need a female. You have two hands to keep you satisfied.”
There’s probably an element of truth to that, but, “Sometimes it’s not enough.”
Jesus. Why did I admit that out loud?
“I could have told you that, and I’m not even doing it. You can’t replace real intimacy, Kip, no matter how hard you try.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Teddy only gives me a few seconds of reprieve before she hits me with her next assault. “Why don’t you like having people over?”
I sigh, long and loudly into the dark, tucking my arms behind my head. “Who said I don’t like having people over?”
I feel her shrug when the mattress dips, though I can’t see it.
“I just assumed since you never have people over.” She pauses, uncertain. “Is it because you’re embarrassed?”
Is she serious? “Embarrassed about what?”
“That you…that your…” She falters, searching for the right words.
I wait her out.
“It’s pretty obvious you come from money, okay?”
Teddy has no idea.
“I don’t think you should be ashamed of it,” she goes on in the dark.
“I’m not.”
“Whatever you say, Kipling Carmichael.” Teddy laughs, wiggling her feet. They’re dainty, and small, and feel good still tucked beneath me. “God, even that name sounds…rich, like you should be on a yacht somewhere in the Pacific.”
The Atlantic, actually. That’s where the boat is docked, at some marina with a yacht club, near one of several Carmichael vacation homes.
“It’s not a crime coming from money, just like it’s not a crime for me to be—I don’t know, poor, I guess. A scholarship kid. I’m not ashamed, though I used to be. Not anymore. I work my ass off, and so does my mom.”
Her body shivers.
“You can move over a little if you’re still cold.” I know I am. My nuts are shriveled up, practically ascended into my body.
“No funny business.”
As if.
“Just scoot your ass over here.”
“Okay, okay. So bossy.”
Teddy’s feet pull out from under me and soon the heat from her flat stomach, from between her legs, and from her tits are burning my skin where she’s pressed up against me.
Goddamn. When I told her to scoot over, I didn’t mean Singe me with all your best parts. How the fuck am I supposed to sleep with the apex of her thighs straddling my hip?
Next, she throws her arm over my chest, fingers casually resting on the bicep opposite, hand falling limp.
“Oh my god, you are so warm! This feels so amazing.” She hunkers down closer, squeezing me. “Mmm, heaven.”
Her long, dark hair tickles my nostrils, and I draw in a breath to sniff it as discretely as I can.
Clean and fruity and I want to bury my nose in it.
And my hands.
Those lie limply at my sides, one buried beneath her, the other on the mattress—
“Your beard tickles.”
“So does your hair.” Hair I’m tempted to sink my fingers into, to test its weight and feel how soft it is.
We lie like this for who knows how long, my chest heaving up and down, heart rate accelerated like I’ve just run a mile. I wonder if she can hear it beating—if she knows she’s the reason it’s racing.
“I’ve never been this comfortable in my entire life.” She sighs, content. “I could lie like this every night.”
“Only because your survival instincts kicked in.”
“Or because you’re like a giant teddy bear.”
Suddenly, Teddy pulls away. In the shadow of the moon shining through the window, I watch her sit up and pull the fabric of her sweatshirt up and over her head, tossing it to the end of the bed.
What’s left is the silhouette of her breasts veiled in a thin T-shirt, and when she lies back down beside me, the hard peaks of her nipples graze my ribcage.
“It’s warm enough under these covers I don’t need that anymore.”
She settles back in, curling into my side, really making herself at home against my body. Hikes her leg over my thigh, the warmest parts of her boiling my skin.
“Mmm.”
I can literally feel the fucking heat from her pussy against my leg.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
What I should do is shove her off the bed, onto the floor, and get the fuck out of my own room. Fast.
She pats me on the chest, her touch more of a caress than a chastising reprimand.
“Relax! You’re like one of those pregnancy body pillows I’ve seen in Target. Stop moving around so much or you’re going to mess up my positioning.”
A pregnancy body pillow? What the fuck is she talking about?
I can’t concentrate when her delicate hand, which was previously resting innocently on my arm, begins to wander, finger trailing over my left pec, hand pressing into my skin. Poking. Kneading at my muscles.
“Could your body be any harder?”
Yup.
Yes, I can be harder.
Keep that shit up and you’ll find out just how hard I can be.
“Jeez, Kip—how often do you work out? All day, every day?”
“Please stop.”
Poke.
Poke.
“Teddy, stop.”
“Oh please—you’re immune to me, remember?”
I’m only immune to you when your perky set of amazing tits isn’t pressed against my body in the middle of the fucking night, reminding me how fucking long it’s been since I’ve boned someone.
“I never said I was immune to you, Teddy. I said I wasn’t dating anyone or having sex.”
“And I said I was curious. It’s harmless, I’m not going to try anything—I wouldn’t even know how.”
That does not make me feel any better; in fact, that makes this whole thing worse, because now all I’m thinking about is being the one who can teach her…stuff.
“Did you know I haven’t ever seen a guy this close up before? I want to take advantage of the opportunity—since it’s you.”
A few things hit me at once. One, she doesn’t realize touching me, roaming her hands all over my body is going to eventually make me hard.
And two: Teddy just admitted she’s a virgin.
My brain kicks into overdrive, reacting to the soft glide of her palm over my cotton T-shirt. The path it takes down the center of my ab muscles, pausing when they involuntarily contract. Flex. Tighten.
Oh shit.
Ohhh. Shit.
“Wow, I knew you were ripped, but these are…” Her voice is low, full of wonder, the hum inside her throat one of appreciation. “Ridiculous.”
She makes another little sound of pleasure.
I don’t know what to fucking do—take her hand off me and tell her to respect my boundaries? Do us both a favor and roll away, creating distance?
Or let her explore and see where those curious fingers roam next?
Inside my mesh athletic bottoms, my dick stirs.
Twitches.
“You really are a gentleman, Kip.”
“I’m really not.”
She has no idea.
It stretches toward the fabric, alerted to the presence of a foreign hand, to the soothing female voice not far from my ear.
“Uh huh.” Her arms snakes around my middle, hugging me, body pressed so tightly against mine it’s as if we were one person. “Your skin is so warm. God you feel good.”
God you feel good?
Those are sex words, those are sex words, my body screams, even though Teddy isn’t being sexual—is she?
Nope. She’s snuggling me, for fuck’s sake.
Unless she’s not?
No, she definitely is.
Or maybe she’s not?
Shit, shit, fuck my life.
“Why are you so tense right now?” Comes a low, soothing voice. “Should I rub your back?”
“Jesus no!” I shout. “I mean—no thanks, I’m good.”
“You really must be tired, ’cause you’re so grouchy all of a sudden. Close your eyes and I’ll rub your shoulders.”
As she lies next to me, her innocent hands are already there, slowly rubbing circles over my collarbone, clavicle, and deltoid. Goddamn, it feels good.
Still…
“Please don’t.”
“Mmm, why not?”
“Because…” Because you just went Mmm, and it made my dick stiffen up, that’s why not. Does she really not get it? Or is she playing dumb? She can’t be this clueless.
Can she?
“Just relax, okay?”
“That’s not gonna happen.” I bark out a laugh, wanting to move away but paralyzed.
Her fingers brush the bottom of my beard then lightly caress my cheeks.
“Your skin is so soft where you don’t have hair—too bad there isn’t much of it showing.”
“Yup, just how I like it.”
“You know what girls always talk about when they see a guy with a beard?”
“How repulsive it is?”
“Uh, no.” Teddy laughs. “They talk about what it would feel like between their legs.”
“What?” Another laugh from her and I’m ready to fly off the damn bed. “You’re lying.”
“Did you not know that?”
“No.”
“Kip, they make T-shirts that say Bearded for her pleasure. You should get one—I’d get you one myself, but I’m broke, ha.”
“Wait—what?”
“Have you been living under a rock? Beards are so trendy right now. Even I know that, and I’m the untrendiest person I know. That doesn’t mean I like beards, but everyone else does—girls, I mean.”
That would explain so many things: girls still approaching me at parties, wanting to touch my beard. Touching my mustache at the bar. Making lewd comments. Telling me I should enter contests.
I always thought they were joking. Shit, maybe I have been living under a rock—otherwise known as the Midwest.
Teddy drones on, fingers at the base of my neck, kneading at a knot. “…and I saw a girl wearing one that said My other ride is a beard. Get it?”
She says it so casually, yet the sudden image of her sitting on my face while I suck on her—
Her throat gives a little mew, fingers still massaging my sensitive skin. “You’ve heard of a beardgasm before, haven’t you?”
“Stop.”
Her fingers stop.
“I didn’t mean you had to stop doing that, I meant stop saying shit like that, about beards and orgasms and crap.”
“Why?” She sounds about as perplexed as I’m feeling right now. “We’re just talking.”
“Because it’s getting me hard.” Er. Hard-er.
There. If that doesn’t scare her off, nothing will.
Seconds of silence pass.
Then minutes.
“Is it?” Her voice is barely a whisper. Fascinated.
“Yes.” Mine is gruff.
“Why?”
“Why?” I deadpan. “Because I’m in bed with a pretty girl, in the middle of the fucking dark, and her hand is on my body—one that hasn’t been touched in years, by the way. And you’re going on and fucking on about oral.” I pause to take a breath. “That’s why.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
I lift my arm, hand searching for hers in the dark. Remove it from my shoulder, clasping her fingers. Place it back on my stomach, where it belongs—away from my chest and nipples and face.
Where I hope it will stay.
But apparently, I’m a fucking moron, because it doesn’t.
Back and forth on my abs it goes.
Back.
Forth.
My hand—the hand lodged under Teddy’s torso finally makes its way out, feeling along the cotton of her leggings. Lands on her ass.
Settles there, at least momentarily.
Back, her hand caresses.
And forth.
Until it meanders south, grazing the hemline of my shirt. Drifting back up inside it.
Skin on skin.
Palm against my tight abs.
“We should go to sleep.” I sound so pitifully weak.
“We should.” She agrees. Yawns.
Back.
And forth.
My cock throbs, the hand on her ass giving it a little squeeze. Then another, as the muscles in my thighs contract, because every single nerve ending throughout my entire fucking body is humming, alive and alert. Buzzing.
God I want her to touch it.
Fuck, just for a second, and then I can finish myself off in the bathroom.
Christ, what am I saying? I’m not going to jerk myself off with her in the house, as much as I want to.
If only she’d…
Just a little lower…
Please Teddy, please…
I count to ten—then ten again so my goddamn leg doesn’t start bouncing like a jackrabbit’s, tension-filled and nervous.
Slowly I take my hand, working it up her back. Underneath her shirt. Stroking the warm skin of her spine, fingers grazing her side boob. The tits pressed into my ribcage.
For fuck’s sake, please touch it.
Graze it.
Flick it.
Anything.
Christ, I’ve never wanted anyone to touch my dick so bad. Or suck it, or stroke it, or…
Teddy says nothing when the pads of all five of my fingers brush her tender skin again. Only her sharp inhale of breath gives away the fact that she felt it. She holds that breath, waiting.
One second.
Two.
Four.
Five.
Her hand moves.
Down.
God, what is she doing? What are we doing? This is such a bad idea. I don’t want her to stop.
That’s it, Teddy. Lower. Lower. Oh fuck…
***
TEDDY
“That’s it Teddy, lower…” Kip’s low groan cuts into the dark, his guttural plea sexy and deep, hitting me right in the ovaries as he lays still beside me.
God, his voice. His words.
I doubt he realizes he’s even saying them out loud.
Not Kip—he has too much self-control, and he’s kept me firmly at arm’s length the past few weeks. There is no way he would purposely allow this to happen, unless…
Unless he really wanted me to. Or I was making him crazy, which I doubt, because—look at me. I’m the opposite of the girls who hang out at the rugby house. I’m wholesome and studious and, well, virginal.
The feel of Kip’s hard, warm skin beneath my gliding fingertips is amazing. Warm, hot, and cool—all at the same time.
Him lying here motionless, allowing me to explore—it must be driving him insane; even I know that. I’m playing with fire and we both know it.
We should not be doing this.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m the one with my hand practically down Kip’s pants, running my palm along the happy trail I discovered under the soft fabric of his shirt.
I love those.
I think they’re so sexy and masculine.
He obviously doesn’t shave his junk like a lot of guys these days do. Metrosexuals.
His entire body stiffens when I skim the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, trail a path with my hand, back and forth along the fabric. Teasing as I debate what the hell to do next.
One thing is for sure: I should not be doing this.
The thing is…I’ve never done this before. Not with a guy like this. They were boys, really, and it was mostly just making out and some heavy petting. Got fingered only once, in high school, with a kid named Devon, who was just as awkward as I was. Fumbling around in the dark with all our clothes on—two virgins who stayed that way—the closest I’ve gotten to having sex was him sticking his hand down my pants and shoving two fingers up my—
“Lower. Oh fuck, Teddy…”
My name on his lips.
It spurs me on, and suddenly, all I want to do is touch it. No harm in that, right? He obviously wants me to. Feel it. Maybe grip it, run my hand up and down its hard length (like I’ve seen in the few pornos I’ve snuck peeks at) just to see what it’s like.
To hear what he sounds like when I do.
So I know.
I want to know what the other girls know, what it feels like to turn a guy on. What it feels like to make a dick hard. To make him come. The weight of a dick in my hands.
Yeah, that might sound gross, but I’m twenty-one and I have no clue what it feels like to hold one.
I don’t want to be clueless anymore.
Kip seems to be a willing participant now that his dick is rock solid and my hand has somehow gotten wedged inside his boxers. He shifts his hips on the bed, gives a little thrust upward. Even without seeing them, I know he’s flexing his thick thighs.
Ugh, those thighs make me stupid.
For weeks, I’ve been trying not to notice how they flex when he walks, how track pants and jeans don’t quite fit properly because the muscles there bulge.
His giant, callused hand eases out from its spot under my body—I’ve been lying on it this entire time—and creeps to my ass. Palm splayed, fingers gripping my butt cheeks. Squeeze.
Leisurely, little by little, it makes its way up my back, under my shirt, slow circles along my spine. Up, up. Down under the thin cotton of my leggings, middle finger blazing a hot trail to my crack.
With my head on his chest and his beard flirting with the crown of my head, I finally snake my eager palm all the way inside his pants. It bumps the tip of his penis, its head straining against the layer of underwear, and I trace it with the tip of my finger. Run the pad of it round and round then go lower, feeling my way to the underside.
Trail along the shaft.
Entire palm closing over his…uh, balls.
Kip inhales again. Groans, fingers digging into my round butt cheeks. Breath coming hard and fast above me.
Timidly I stroke him through the material, not quite brave enough to stroke his actual…dick. Or touch it. Or—
I gasp when that thick finger of his that was grazing my rear is now firmly between my crack, easing its way to my pussy, causing my legs to ease apart.
“Get on top,” he rumbles.
“Wha…?”
Swiftly, two arms are pulling me, rolling me, resting me on top, stiff erection cradled between my thighs. Large, masculine hands gripping my hips.
Pushing at my leggings.
“This would feel so much better if you pulled your pants down.”
Wonderful idea.
Fantastic idea.
Two sets of arms and hands fumble to remove my leggings until they’re low enough for me to kick off. Until I’m lying on top of Kip in nothing but a flimsy t-shirt and skimpy thong.
“Let’s take yours off too,” I hear myself say. Desperate to feel every inch of him without actually…feeling every inch of him.
I lift my hips as he shucks his track pants off, marveling at how intimate the whole thing is. We’re not naked, but somehow we might as well be.
This is Kip, the guy who has become my friend in the past few weeks. The guy who has given me dating advice—albeit shitty, but advice nonetheless.
Kip, whose large, hairy body reaches for mine once his pants disappear into the bedroom. I hear them hit the floor somewhere in the distance at the same time his arms pull me down.
Line our bodies up like it’s second nature.
Kip’s hips begin a slow revolution until that dense, throbbing tip of him finds the fold between my legs and settles there.
“Oh my…fucking…god.” Kip exhales when his hands are back on my body, skimming gently over the globes of my butt. Over the back of my thighs. Up my shirt. Ribcage.
The sides of my breasts. Wanting to cup them but holding back.
“Can I touch them, Teddy? Just for a second?”
I want him to—so bad.
“Please.” His plea is a whisper, a sexy, aching whimper.
“Okay.” Yes, yes…!
“Sit up. Straddle me.”
Kip adjusts himself on the mattress, taking me along with him, rising to a seated position. If we were naked, I’d be fully impaled on his cock.
I experiment, swiveling my hips.
He groans.
Grabs my shirt by the hem and lifts it all the way off.
In the dark, giant man paws find my shoulders, float their way down my biceps, then—
“Jesus, Teddy, your tits,” he moans, palming them both, thumbs circling my stiff nipples. My mouth drops open as my head tips back, his lips and tongue flicking my skin. Mouth latching on and sucking, only coming up for air to say, “These are so perfect. I could suck on these all night.”
“They’re not perfect.” My hands brace on his hard thighs for support as he continues to pull and draw my nipple into his greedy mouth. “You can’t even see w-what they l-look like.”
He lifts his head, beard scratching my chest. “I don’t have to see these tits to know they’re perfect, Teddy.”
My arms go around his neck and I let him devour me, the throbbing between my legs unsatisfied. My lower half rakes back and forth over his dick, pushing and dragging and desperate for the tip to dig itself deeper into my pussy.
Somehow, our mouths fuse. Our first kiss, in the pitch black of his freezing cold bedroom, in the middle of the night—is frantic and hot and wet and dirty.
Tongues and lips and teeth. Beard scraping my face.
“Let me push your underwear to the side.” His raspy tone is desperate. “It’ll feel so good.”
That’s flirting with danger.
“Kip…” I might be protesting, but when his thumb reaches between us to push the barrier of my panties aside, we both sigh with relief. He was so right—it does feel amazing. So amazing, so amazing. Euphoric.
“I wanna be inside you so bad, fucking you.” He pants, mimicking sex, pelvis gyrating, hands working my hips.
“No you don’t. You’re talking crazy.”
“No, Teddy, I want to fuck you—I want to fuck you. I need to fuck you.” He’s repeating himself and sounds half crazed, nothing like I’m used to. He is losing control of the situation and dragging me down with him—except I’m all too eager to follow. I’m on top, dry humping him.
“Stop begging me, Kip.” Before I lose control too.
“Let me eat you out, then, please.”
Eat me out? Oh…
“Let me put my tongue inside your pussy, Teddy. Let me put my beard between your legs.”
That has my attention. My full, undivided attention. My vagina’s too, because it clenches at the thought, getting me hot all over again.
“Um…”
“Come on, baby—please. As long as it takes, just let me taste you.”
“But, won’t your beard get all…” Messy?
“Yes—fuck yeah it will.”
K, well, that’s kind of gross.
Still…
When he lifts me off him and lays me on my back, any protests die on my lips.
Kip’s mammoth body eases down my petite one, shoulders nudging my legs apart.
A large finger draws down the center of my—
“NNNmm…” I gasp when the flick of a scorching tongue meets my clit. Presses firmly down. Mouth sucks. “Oh…god.”
I have no idea what to do with myself right now, what to do with my arms, hands, body. Am I supposed to just lie here and let him…lick me like this? Do I move my hips around?
I feel so selfish letting him do all this work.
It’s dark, so I can’t see his head, but I can feel it—the messy mop top tickling my skin while his beard tickles my inner thighs.
Mustache and lips wreaking havoc on my clit.
My whole bottom half is going to have the equivalent of carpet burn, I just know it—but it’ll be worth it.
I grasp at his shoulders as his elbows push against my knees, holding me open.
“You’re so wet,” he mumbles. “You taste so good—I’m going to be able to smell you for days.”
Uh…thanks?
I try not to think about what I might smell like down there—I mean, I showered today, so that part is taken care of, right? But last night I had a fish sandwich for dinner, and oh god, what am I even saying?
Stop thinking and enjoy it, Teddy! Who knows when the next time is going to be that you’ll have a chance like this. Mariah, Cameron, and Tessa are always bitching about how no one they date wants to go down on them, and here I am, legs spread while Kip goes to town on my…
Downtown.
He’s groaning, and the sounds? Primal, as if we were actually having sex and he wasn’t just performing oral.
Oral.
There is a guy with his head between my legs, and it feels so good it feels so good it feels so—“Uhh…uh…”
I can barely get any coherent words past my lips. Can’t even be bothered to moan, my head thrashing on the pillow, fists clenched in his thick hair. Clenching the blankets. Clenching the pillow beneath my head.
Kip’s tongue flattens, pushing deeper. Rolling. Licking. Sucking. And I swear, my legs quake.
“Come on baby. Come for me,” he croons into the gap between my legs, the hair on his face doing crazy things to the nerves in my body, the soft yet coarse strands driving me nuts.
Jeez, how am I going to know if I’m coming or not? I’ve never done it, how could I possibly kn—
Yes, yes, that, right there!
That spot.
Keep doing that thing, that…that right th-there…
Everything inside me tightens and clenches and pulses and feels like heaven and, “Oh god, Kip, don’t stop, don’t stop whatever that is.”
His voice is incoherent, his face—I imagine—entirely, thoroughly buried in my…in my…in…
When spasms rack the lower half of my body, I try to back away, push his head out, but he holds me down, continuing to suck the life of the orgasm from me.
Holy shit, holy mother of all that is holy.
I’m grateful for the dark, sure my mouth is hanging wide open when my head snaps back, my back arching.
Then, with a few casual licks against my sensitive nub, and a loud kiss to the middle, Kip releases my body.
I sag.
***
“You don’t have to snuggle me now. It’s okay.”
His body wedges behind mine as soon as he crawls back up into bed after washing up, against my lifeless form, enveloping me. Hot, warm. Huge.
Kip’s dick is still hard, pressed into the apex of my thighs, but he hasn’t made any passes to remedy that, instead just letting it literally poke me in the ass.
“Maybe I want to.”
His beard tickles the blades between my shoulders, and I shiver.
“Besides,” he continues, “you’ll freeze otherwise.”
“I’m not cold.” Not after that little show he just put on for me. On me.
“Not yet, but you’re shivering.”
“Kip, that isn’t because I’m cold.”
“Oh.” He laughs into my back, mouth and mustache nuzzling the crook of my shoulder.
What the hell is going on? He’s being all affectionate and sweet and we’re spooning and now I’m confused. How did we get to this place?
I thought he hated shit like this.
I thought he didn’t want anyone getting attached to him, and if that’s the case, doing this with me is a terrible way to keep me at a distance.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the dark, at the wall I’m facing.
“Why are you sorry?” His hand moves to stroke my hip.
“This was such a bad idea.”
“No, actually, it was a really good idea.” His heavy arm wraps around my middle, hand cupping my naked breast. Thumb traces my nipple.
“You’re going to regret this in the morning.”
“I promise you, Teddy, I won’t.”
Somehow, I don’t believe him.
“But what if you want to do it all the time now, and it’s my fault you broke your vow of celibacy?”
He pauses before speaking. “I didn’t take a vow of celibacy. I just don’t want to date or screw any catty, greedy bitc—uh, girls. I think my virtue is safe with you.”
“Because I don’t fall into those categories?”
“You definitely don’t fall into those categories.” My hair gets brushed to the side, and my eyes slide closed when his beard lands on my skin as he rests his chin. “My sister thinks so too.”
What? He told his sister about me? “You told your sister about me?”
“I tell my sister everything.”
He told his sister about me?
“What did you tell her?”
Kip yawns. “Just that you’ve been coming over. She’s really protective, so…” His voice trails off, tired.
How am I going to sleep with his hot breath on my back? With his dick in my ass? With his broad chest heating my body like a damn furnace?
I’ve never slept in the same bed with a guy, never had one touch me like this before. The whole thing screams Cozy! Domestic! Coupledom!
Or maybe I’m delirious and have no idea what I’m talking about because I’m naïve and think the best of people and have no clue what I’m doing.
Honestly, I don’t think Kip has any idea what he’s doing, either.
And that makes it easier to fall asleep.