Instead of listening to me, he half-jumps, half-falls onto the bed beside me, his stomach down. I try to ignore the curve of his ass and how beautiful it is. I even manage to resist the urge to squeeze it—barely.
"I'm sorry, Kayla, but I can't in good conscience go along with your plan," he says very solemnly, looking at me like he's completely serious, except his eyes are shining. The blue is filled with humor and mischief. This is the White Hall who I fell in love with as a kid and the White Hall who makes my heart smile now. White wears many faces in public, but I like to think that the big kid inside is only revealed to those he truly cares about.
"And why is that, dare I ask?" I question, shaking my head and trying to hold back a yawn.
"If I don't fuck you so hard that you literally make the neighbors call the cops, my mother will be trying to feed me more of that pea green soup from hell. That cannot happen."
"I am not having sex with your mom's ear pinned to the outside wall. That cannot happen," I counter. "Besides, I really am too tired for sex."
"You've left me no other choice, Buttercup," White says, getting up from the bed and going to the wall. He turns to the side to face the post on the headboard, holding it with his hands. It's hard to miss the way his dick comes out with the head curving down because, well… he's huge. How he ever fit inside me, I do not know. I really do have this voice in the back of my head questioning just how big he is every time I see him. He can't be the normal size of men everywhere. If he is, my past sex life is even sadder than I already thought it was.
"What are you going to do, White Hall? Hump the headboard? That watermelon really did do a number on you," I reply, trying to sound bored, and I'm pretty sure I'm failing—mainly because I'm wondering where I can find a tape measure.
"The only number that watermelon did to me today is keep me going to the bathroom—and not for usual fun. Watermelon is not nature’s Viagra. If anything, it's nature's Ex-Lax."
"Oh, God."
"It's true."
"With bedroom talk like this, I can't figure out why I'm not just raring to go."
"I know right? You should be bowing at my feet and calling me master."
"I think you have the wrong girl for that kind of fantasy."
"Story of my life," he says and then he grabs the post and slams it against the wall.
"What are you doing?" I hiss.
He smiles and then slams the wall with the post again.
"Oh fuck, baby, you feel so good," he groans. It’s not the voice he uses when we have sex, but it's a pretty good version. "That's it, Kayla, take all of me. Take it all," he groans and slams the headboard back again. This time it's harder than before and I think he might break the bed.
"White!" I shriek.
"Yeah, baby, I'm right here. That's it, open up for me. Take it all, Kayla! Take it all!"
"I can't believe you right now! There's kids in the house! They'll hear!" I hiss.
"There's not. River is at his dad's. Kayla, honey, I'm not drinking any more of that shit, or having Mom drum up something worse. So either play along or prepare for tomorrow," White whispers back.
Normally, I would ignore him at this point. This is Ida Sue we're dealing with, however. If she thinks White and I aren't having sex, what would be her next move? Renting porn? A sex therapist? Nothing seems too far out of the realm of possibilities with Ida Sue and that's the damn truth.
White slams the headboard back against the wall again and I find myself moaning, "That's it. Give it to me, Big Daddy!"
White's entire body goes solid. He looks over at me and mouths, "Big Daddy??"
I shrug.
"Jesus, Kayla!" he groans, and I start to know a minute of real fear when he smiles at me. He takes his palm and slaps it openhanded on the wall. "You're so hungry for my cock. You're going to break it off."
"Hungry for it?" I mouth back, and this time, he shrugs and looks way too satisfied with himself.
"You're beggin' for it, aren't you, baby? You've never had a dick as good as mine," he adds.
"Beggin' for it?" I mouth again, and I know he's trying to get to me. Maybe even embarrass me.
If I stop to think about his entire family listening to us, maybe I would be. Maybe I would die of mortification. Instead, the challenge I see in White's eyes spurs me on and, as usual when it’s the two of us involved, I forget the outside world. I stand up on the bed, stick my tongue out at him, and begin jumping up and down, smiling broadly as the mattress springs start squeaking. White gives me a look of approval.
"I am. God, I'm dying for your dick!" I groan, and this time, White's eyes go large. He grins like the big goofy child he can be at times.