Steve laughed. “I think you’d better not.”
She took just a moment to make a disappointed sound before launching into more guesses. “Are you a voyeur? Or…what’s the other half of that again?”
“An exhibitionist?”
“Yes, an exhibitionist.” She groaned when he shook his head. “We’re supposed to be sharing secrets, and you’re not sharing anything at all.”
“Even if I did share something, you wouldn’t remember it once you sobered up.”
“I’m not drunk, I’m just buzzed. I might have drunk those ciders a little too fast.”
“A little?”
“I’m just not an esp—expr—experienced drinker,” she said, carefully enunciating the syllables. Her fingers slid from his shoulders up into his hair, patting the top. “Look at you. So spiky. I love it.”
“Thank you.”
“But don’t try to change the subject. Wait, I know. Is it some kind of fetish that has to do with being a big, muscular guy?”
“Is that a fetish?”
She ran her fingers through the short sides of his hair, back up into the spiky blond top. “Your hair is so soft, Steven. Does this feel good?” She massaged his scalp, combing his hair back and forth in the dark.
“It does feel good, honestly. But you’re probably leaving cheese dust all over my head.”
“No one’s gonna see it. It’s dark.”
He sighed. “You’re an adorable drunk, kid, but you’re going to hate yourself in the morning. I didn’t think you’d take to cider so well.”
“Is there more of it?” she asked, straddling him.
He put his hands on her hips. “You’ve had quite enough.”
She didn’t want cider, not really. It was tasty and apple-y, and bubbly like champagne, but she didn’t want that now. She wanted to learn more about Steve, because he was such a wonderful friend.
With such a wonderful body.
“Look at us,” she said. “Look at us! This is so fun, sitting here together in the dark. This is more fun than a pajama party, isn’t it?” She winked at him, or tried to. “And there’s no one else here. Just us.”
“That’s true. So you should probably head to bed soon, okay?”
She tried to ease her hips closer to him, but he wouldn’t let her. What a tease.
“Let’s make out,” she whined. “Come on.”
“Let’s not. And by bed, I mean my couch, although I wish I could take you home.”
“Why? That hurts my feelings.”
“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. You’re just too…too tempting when you’re like this.”
He was hard. Erect. She could feel the thick outline of his cock whenever she pressed her hips against him. “You’re hot for me,” she said, delighted.
“I’m always hot for you, but now’s not the right time to do something about it, okay? You’re too drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
He put his hands in her hair, and she wondered if he was putting cheese ball dust there in revenge.
“You’re so damn drunk,” he said, a smile curving his lips. “So as much as I’d like to have some fun with you while you’re in this extremely receptive and energetic mood, it wouldn’t be the gentlemanly thing to do.”
She tried to follow all the words he was saying, but she got confused watching his beautiful smile. He kept saying she was too drunk. Well, he should have kept up.
“Have another beer, Steve. Just get drunker.”
“No, I don’t think that’s the way to solve things. Definitely not a good idea.”
“Definitely not a good idea,” she repeated, in her best Steve impersonation. “You’re so fucking ar-gu-men-sive sometimes. Ar-gu-menna-tive. You want me.” She shoved her hand down to stroke his hard cock through his moose-printed pajama pants. “See, I can tell you want me.”
“Okay.” He caught her hand and held it. “Yes, I want you, but I’m not going to do anything about that tonight.”
“Why?” She leaned closer, to whisper a secret. “I have already slept with the other two guys.”
“I know, when you were sober and in full control of your faculties.”
She scowled at him. “Did you just call me fat?”
“Faculties. I said fa-cul-ties.”
“Ugh.” She gave a frustrated groan. “Why don’t you just kiss me? Is that so bad? Just kiss me.”
“Okay, fine.”
She hadn’t expected him to agree, because he was still holding her hand so she couldn’t touch his cock. But he kissed her, a kiss that felt as hard and sexy as the big thing in his pants, and it made her feel energized, needy, wonderful.
Hungry.
When she rocked against his front, moaning, he ended the kiss with a tug at her lip. He’d bitten her. He wanted her. Oh, hell, that kiss had her all worked up.
“I’m gonna blow you now,” she said, moving off his lap.
He caught her and stopped her. “Oh, no.”
“I want to. It’s okay.”
“No.”
But his no sounded like a yes. She could see in his gaze, in his intent expression, that he wanted a blowjob. Why was he being so damn prissy about this?
“You’re making me mad,” she said. “Why won’t you fuck me?”