“That is such a guy thing to do,” he says.
“Don’t be sexist,” I tell him, punching him in the armor. It kind of hurts. “Girls are allowed to do stupid shit too.”
“I don’t know if you’re allowed to do them but you do them anyway,” he muses.
I raise my fist. “Don’t make me punch you again.”
“Hey, you’re Phoenix. You can change the whole damn world with your mind, just as you can with your writing. Why do you think I wanted you to come dressed as her? You can do anything you put your mind to, whether it’s making a fortune on erotica or writing something very dear and personal to you. You’re practically a superhero. And you’re really good in bed.”
I swallow hard, the butterflies in my chest taking off. “So…it’s not too late?”
“For what?”
“For us.” I say feebly. “You stopped calling me.”
“Just because we write about stalkers, doesn’t mean I am one. I wanted to give you space and time to figure your shit out. I wasn’t going anywhere. We’re writing partners.”
“And sex partners.”
“And friends.”
“And dorks.”
“Speak for yourself,” he says, raising his head high. “I’m the king of mischief.”
“Well the queen of mischief needs a beer,” I tell him.
He grasps my hand. “My queen,” he says gallantly and we head toward the beer garden. The battle rages on and Blake fends off a charging warrior with a fell swoop of his staff. We keep walking.
“My hero,” I tell him as we step over the fallen, writhing soldier.
We give each other the nerdiest smiles and my heart feels like it’s a big, bright balloon, too large and grand for my chest.
“Hey, is that Ana?” Blake says as we approach the bar.
I look over to see her putting blue body paint on some buff, half naked Avatar. She’s giggling and he’s flexing and it looks like she’s having the time of her life.
“Is that Kevin and your dad?” I ask because further down the line of people who want Ana’s face slash body paint, there they are. “I didn’t know your dad was coming.”
“Neither did I,” Blake says. “Just was well, now we can enjoy these beers.”
We find ourselves a spot on a picnic table between some wenches who are completely hammered and Neo and Felicity from the Matrix and we drink in the sunshine and we talk and catch up over everything that happened over the last week, from family, to our new fame, to book world drama (and there’s always book world drama).
Two beers in though, we’re both feeling pretty loose.
“Hey, come with me,” I tell him, grabbing his hand and leading him from his seat and out of the beer garden.
“Where are you leading me, my queen?” he asks, playfully smacking me on my ass.
“It’s a secret,” I tell him, glancing up at him over my shoulder. “You know how to keep those now, don’t you?”
He rolls his eyes in response.
I take him over to the white cloth tent that Zaphod mentioned earlier and cautiously pull back the curtain. It’s empty inside except for an inflatable couch covered with faux furs while royal banners that say Senate of Calgon hang from the ceiling. I’m not that surprised to find that the place doesn’t look used at all. Seems no other maidens have fallen for his proposition.
“Where are we?” Blake asks, his horns nearly razing the top of the tent.
“The Senate of Calgon,” I tell him, leading him over to the couch. “Or the site of every nerd girl fantasy.” I sit down and stare up at him, opening my legs wide.
His eyes nearly fall out. “You have a hole in your suit.”
“I know that,” I tell him. “And I’m not wearing underwear.”
“I can see that,” he says, practically salivating. “Was this all for me?”
“You get panty lines if you don’t go commando,” I tell him, beckoning him down with my finger. “And this is a full bodysuit. I’m not taking the whole thing off every time I have to pee.”
“Right,” he says, not even hearing me anymore. His eyes keep roaming from my bare pussy, over my spandex covered breasts, to my lips and back down again. I feel like he’s going to have a convulsion just standing there. “This is seriously the hottest thing I have ever seen in my whole entire existence.”
“It’s about to get hotter,” I tell him as he drops to his knees and runs his hands up my inner thighs, squeezing as he goes, his eyes burning and locked on mine. He’s about to dip his head but I reach up and grab his helmet, taking it off before the horns spear me.
I put the helmet to the side and out of the way. His hair flops forward on his forehead. “Not up for the horns?” he says with a grin.
“Maybe later.”
He lowers his head between my legs and I lie back, the sun streaming in through the parting in the tent door. Out in the distance the battle cries go on but in here there is nothing but Blake’s tongue on my clit, tentative at first, then his mouth opening right over it, gently sucking me in.
I feel the air sucked out of me.
His tongue runs down me in broad, warm licks and I raise my hips, wanting more purchase, more tension, more relief, more of everything.
Two fingers come inside me, holding me open, while his tongue still works, alternating between gentle sucks and languid laps. His teeth raze me at some point and I cry out loudly but the pain has never felt sweeter.