Then she pulled me out of my euphoria with something else, “And your face—I didn’t have a type until I saw it, now my type is green eyes, a straight nose, a jaw like this,” she poked mine, and then did the same to my mouth, “and lips like these. I can’t even go to my happy place thinking about Bane.”
What the fuck? “You have a crush on Bane? As in Batman bane?”
“Yeah,” she sighed, her eyes going unfocused. “Well, not him, but the guy who plays him—Tom Hanks.”
Now, it had to be said, I wasn’t fully drunk, but I wasn’t just buzzed—I was somewhere in the middle. But for the love of fuck, even I knew Tom Hanks didn’t play Bane.
“Uh, Tom Hanks was Forest Gump, pixie, not Bane.”
The unfocused look shifted out of her eyes as she glared at me. “I think I know the man I’m having babies with, Elijah, and it isn’t Forest Gump.”
“But Tom Hanks played him,” I stressed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “He wasn’t Bane.”
“Oh,” she hummed. “Then I mean Tom Cruise.”
“Maverick from Top Gun didn’t play Bane either. Tom Hardy did.”
“That’s the one! I knew I’d get it in the end.”
Something uncomfortable occurred to me, if she was so drunk she couldn’t remember who the actor she had a crush on was—was I taking advantage of her right now?
“On a scale of one to ten, how drunk would you say you were right now?”
Closing one eye, she looked up at the ceiling. “Three. No, a five. No, wait, a four, definitely a four.”
Four wasn’t bad. Heck, even five wasn’t bad, was it? “Do me a favor, touch your nose with your fingertip.”
Sighing, she did it without even giving it much effort. “Now, you do it.”
Thinking I was smart, I did it and ended up poking myself in the cheek. “Okay, we’ll forget that. Now, you mentioned wanting to do something in the living room?”
A huge smile took over her face, and she nodded her head rapidly. “Do you have to do it differently with piercings in?”
Thinking about it, only a couple of things stood out—along with my dick. “Normally, teeth are a matter of preference, and that’s still the case here, but you need to be more careful with them so that you don’t tear the piercings out.”
Eyes wide, she glanced down at my crotch, smiling slightly when she saw exactly how excited I was, and then nodded.
“Also, rolling your tongue around them or even moving them with it is okay, but try not to pull on them. There’s a fine line between pleasure and pain with my two, and it’s easily crossed.”
“Pleasure and pain, don’t pull them, watch teeth, got it. Now gimme!” she held her hand out to me and waved me over.
Closing the distance between us, I couldn’t help wondering how we’d gotten into this situation while I did everything I could not to move in case it distracted her. Hell, at this stage, even breathing was a movement that worried me so much that I tried to do it as shallowly as possible.
What if she decided she didn’t want to do it? Would I survive?
Surprisingly, her hands didn’t shake as she lowered the waistband of my sweats to the base of my shaft, the length of it trapped down the jersey leg against my thigh. I could also say that, at that moment, I was never so grateful for the fact that I was a huge advocate for ‘manscaping.’ All it’d taken was a round of training exercises when I’d first joined the Coast Guard, ones that’d involved midnight calls and yanking a front closing wetsuit up with an accidental handful of pubes. I’d been a convert for life.
And it’d all led me to this one moment with the most beautiful woman I’d ever met in my life, who was staring wide-eyed at the base of my cock.
Call it nerves, call it stupidity, but what came out of my mouth made me want to punch myself in the face. “There’s more—tucked down to the left.”
She swallowed loudly as she looked slowly up my torso until she was eye-to-eye with me. “Your left or mine?” The expression that followed it was much as I suspected mine had been seconds ago—a ‘why the fuck did I say that?’ look.
Deciding I was safer not to say anything out loud, I gently took her hand in mine and lowered it until it was resting on my hard length through the jersey material. A length, incidentally, that jumped when he realized whose it was.
Whimpering quietly, she looked back down again, this time at where her hand was slowly moving up and down my dick. It was torture. No, it was heaven and torture. Heaven because I finally had her hand on me, and torture because I had her hand on me, and I was still wearing my sweats, so there was a barrier between her skin and the rest of mine.