Pouring our coffee, I leave his black – he didn’t tell me otherwise – and pour some creamer into mine. Real cream was the first thing to go on my Bee left me. I’m officially broke budget.
As I hand him his mug, Pete’s fingers brush mine, and my vagina pulses. I quickly beat a hasty retreat, sinking into the comfortable fabric of the couch, my eyes on him.
“What?” he asks, sounding amused. I shrug, my eyes dropping to his crotch. His dick is neatly hidden away, but I saw what I saw.
“Why Luigi?”
A touch of pink tinges his cheeks, and he takes a hasty sip of coffee, his eyes darting down to his covered crotch as well. I can see how the question would maybe embarrass him, but he’s the one with a cartoon Luigi from Super Mario tattooed on the side of his dick. Literally, on the side of his dick.
It’s very out of character for my mild-mannered, strait-laced suit. Of course I was going to ask. Of course, the whole… spanking and fucking outside…thing seems out of character, so maybe there’s another side to him. I’d really like to get to know that side.
“I made the mistake of agreeing when my best friend suggested we go drinking with his younger brothers.”
My eyebrows shot up. “They held you down and tattooed you?”
“Uh, that would be a less embarrassing story,” he laughs. “There were three of them, plus Andy, I could say I was outnumbered. But no. They got me drunk and talked me into it.”
My lips twitch. Definitely out of character. “It’s cute. It’s very detailed.”
“I was thankfully blackout drunk. I do not remember the pain, though Andy assures me cheerfully whenever he can, that there were tears. A lot of tears.”
My giggle escapes me before I can swallow it down. Pete’s eyes raise from his crotch, locking with mine. I’m encouraged by the heat in his stare and nod to his lap.
“I didn’t get a good look. Can I see it properly?”
Pete sighs as he hesitates. For a moment, I’m sure he’s about to deny my request. But he places down his mug on the circular side table to his right and unzips his fly.
Abandoning my coffee, I slide off the couch, eagerly crawling over as he lifts his dick out of his pants. I kneel in front of him, resting my forearms on his thighs as I tentatively touch his hardening dick.
Lifting it for a better angle, I run my thumb over the small tattoo, Pete’s breath hitching. His fingers flex beside my head, clenching as he grips the arm of the chair.
It really is incredibly detailed, down to the two gold buttons on the front of his denim overalls, the two black strokes on his white gloves to indicate knuckles, and the L on his green hat. Unmistakably Luigi. He’s waving, his mouth beneath his mustache open like he’s calling out to someone, two curved lines above the fingers indicating a waving hand.
Heavy breathing draws my attention, and my eyes, off Pete’s dick and up to his face. His eyes are hooded, his nostrils flaring as he stares down at my thumb, lazily stroking his length. I bite back a smirk, turning my face back to his dick.
When I lower my head, my tongue licking over Luigi’s figure, a groan rips out of him, one of his hands sliding through my still-damp hair, gripping lightly.
“Shit, Tinker Bell,” he hisses, his head tipping back, his mouth dropping open as I take his dick in my mouth, sucking on it and swirling my tongue around.
When he first started calling me Tinker Bell, back at the alumni event, I bristled. The annoying little fairy who can’t talk and is jealous? No, thank you. Now? Now I’m really starting to enjoy the way he says it. Like I’m a magical wonder he never saw coming. At least, that’s what I’m going to tell myself.
I start bobbing my head, wrapping my lips around my teeth to avoid any accidental scraping, one hand wrapping around the base of his dick to jack him off in time with my thrusts, the other reaching into his suit pants to massage his balls, squeezing them lightly.
When I do, he growls, his other hand sliding into my hair as well, his hips starting to thrust lightly. I run my tongue over the Luigi tattoo again, and he groans, his fingers tightening in my hair as he comes.
Lifting my head, I let his dick slide out of my mouth, sitting back on my heels and smirking up at him. Pete’s eyes are burning into my face as he moves to zip his dick away again. Pity. It’s slowly becoming my favorite toy.
I retreat to my couch, reaching to pick up my coffee when he shoves out of his armchair, crowding me, his hands landing on either side of me, bracing against the back of the couch, his face all up in mine.
“I catch you skinny dipping again, Tinker Bell,” he growls, “you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”
I should be outraged, staring him down, but I’m not. I’m just horny again. Pete’s lips brush mine, one of his hands gripping the back of my neck as he presses a hard, punishing kiss to my lips. Before I can grab him and deepen the kiss, he straightens, glaring down at me for a moment.
Turning on his heel, Pete strides out of the room, past the kitchen, and the door slams as he lets himself out. Standing, I cross to collect his coffee mug and place both in the sink. Picking up my phone, I pull up our two-sentence exchange from earlier and smirk, saving his number in my contacts.