“I did do you last weekend, yes.” He grinned. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.” He leaned forward and licked his lips. “That day is nothing I will ever regret.”
“You’re a pig.” I shook my head, mesmerized by the movement of his tongue, so pink and pointy. I shivered just remembering it between my legs. I groaned inwardly as I recalled the feeling of it slipping inside of me. I know, I’m horrible. I should have been shouting at him or slapping him, but instead I was remembering every vivid detail of how rough and gentle his tongue had been. I was growing wet just remembering how much pleasure his seemingly innocent tongue had given me. I hoped that the moisture would cool me down in hell, because those fiery flames were exactly where I was headed.
“I don’t oink.” He teased me and for a second I thought he was about to kiss me.
“You sure about that?” I licked my dry lips and took a step back.
“Nervous Liv?” He raised an eyebrow at me and took another step towards me.
“Stop saying my name like that.”
“Like what, Liv?”
“Like you’re some sort of Spanish conquistador and I’m the conquest you’re after.”
“But I’ve already had you.” He grinned. “The conquest is over. Done. Complete.” He stepped back and looked around the room. “Nice.” He nodded to the poster of the Backstreet Boys above my bed.
“Everyone I know has a poster of the Backstreet Boys.” I muttered.
“Really?” He looked at me in surprise. “Everyone you know still has a poster of boy bands on their wall?” He wiggled his eyebrow and I made a face at him.
“Of course not now. This is my childhood room. This is where I slept as a teenager. I don’t live here anymore. I have my own apartment and I don’t have posters of the Backstreet boys up there.” I said defensively.
“I think you’re protesting a bit too much.” He laughed. “Are you sure about that?”
“Of course I’m sure about that. I’m very sure I know what’s hanging in my bedroom.” I turned away from him, hoping he couldn’t see the red in my face. I did have some photos of Matthew McConaughey in a scrapbook in my bedroom that I’d cut out from celebrity magazines. And those weren’t from my teenage years. They were from the future husband scrapbooks Alice and I had made in college. Matthew McConaughey was my dream man. He was perfect: rough, handsome, had a sexy country drawl and he loved his mama. If he weren’t married, I’d be on a plane to Texas or California doing whatever I could to meet him.
“Liv?” Xander’s voice was hesitant. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, why?” I turned to look at him and his eyes were curious as he stared at me.
“You seemed to drift away just now and I was wondering what had occupied your thoughts so deeply? Surely not having day dreams about Justin Timberlake?”
“Justin Timberlake was in N’Sync, not the Backstreet Boys.” I rolled my eyes at him and he laughed.
“Ask me if I care.”
“I didn’t say you cared. I was just correcting you because what you said was wrong. Ugh.” I shook my head in frustration. “What do you want, Xander? You’re annoying me.”
“You. Again. In your bed. Under your Backstreet Boys poster crying out my name and singing ‘Quit Playing Games with My Heart’.”
“Oh.” My jaw dropped at his presumptuousness and at the fact that he knew the name of a boy band song.
“Cat got your tongue?”
“You have five seconds to tell me what you really want, then I suggest you leave my room. I’m this close to telling my sister about you, you dirty pig.”
“Telling your sister what about me?” He laughed. “That you met me at a wedding last weekend and then proceeded to have sex with me at the church?”
“We didn’t have sex at the church.” I protested. “We, we...” I sputtered out at him, not sure what to say. “You’re a pig.”
“You said that before.” He grinned. “And I stand corrected, we didn’t have sex at the church. Well, not technically. Not if you mean my cock in your—”
“Xander.” I cut him off, my face officially the color of fire truck engine red. I could be in one of those picture books that they made for toddlers to learn the colors. When everyone thought of bright red, they would think of the color on my face during this conversation with Xander, miracle tongue worker and jerk.
“Yes?” He laughed. “I was just agreeing with you. Technically, my tongue inside of you doesn’t qualify as fornification. Though what we did in the church is a type of sex right? If we’re being absolutely correct, I believe that oral sex is still sex, but I don’t know how technical we’re being.” His eyes mocked me as he continued. “So yes, you’re correct we didn’t have sex at the church. Not the full, we could be in a porn movie type of sex. However, we did have my mouth between your legs making you come quasi-sex and then we did have full on porno movie sex later that night, in my hotel room.” He paused. “Does that make you feel better?”