Someone to Love(70)

“No”—I press a kiss in close to his ear—“not that kind of hat. I mean, you know, a condom.”

“A what?” He pulls back clearly confused by my bizarre request. His brows pinch as though the entire concept were vexing in nature. “No thanks. This is the first time I’ve gone natural, and there’s no way I’m ever going back.”

“Oh, right.” I close my eyes a moment as he hedges his way near my procreation station sans the appropriate Cruise missile shield. “But I can’t truly appreciate it like you can,” I say it weak because for one, its sounds stupid. “Don’t you think I should try it both ways? You know, see how the other half, lives.”

“Other half lives?” He spikes up on his elbow and examines me—most likely for signs of head trauma.

“I probably just advanced too quickly,” I add. “You know what they say…the grass is always greener and all that good stuff.”

“It’s not good stuff. It’s bad stuff.” He brushes a kiss just behind my ear. “The grass is definitely greener on this side. It’s that fake indoor, outdoor crap on the other side of the fence. Trust me, you don’t want to go there.” He nestles his hips over mine, and I can feel his rather large protrusion pressing against my thigh like a reproductive menace. “Believe me—what you gave me was a gift, and I won’t let you take it away.” His lids are closed partway, but I can still see the flames reflecting in his eyes as his smile morphs into a seductive promise. Cruise is glazed over with his lust for me.

He swiftly moves us past the talking phase of the evening and well into the potential conceptual phase, where the lottery of life will eventually conduct itself in my uterus for a pair of lucky sperm and ovum if it hasn’t already.

Think, think!

I grab a hold of his overeager member, and a thought springs to mind. My lips trail a stream of volcanic kisses down his chest, his belly, and straight for the launcher that has the potential to rocket us both into parenthood.

“Kenny.” He moans because he knows what’s coming—him, mostly likely.

I brace myself as I slather him with kisses. Obviously, I should have paid extra attention that day in the coffee shop when Lauren was sexually mishandling a banana. I glance down at it a moment. Ally was right. It sort of does look like a Storm Trooper sans the arms, and legs, and assault rifle.

Cruise could be gargantuan in size compared to other men and I have no idea. Nevertheless, that’s research I don’t plan on conducting, ever. I lay my lips over him and try to mimic Lauren’s motions, riding my tongue over the hard ridges. Cruise exhales so quick his stomach cinches. I must be doing something right.

“No teeth,” he says it so fast, it refutes my theory.

He lands his hand gently on the back of my neck and guides me for what emerges as a season of loving Cruise in a way I hadn’t imagined until now.

“Hey.” He tries to pull me off, and I keep at it like a good little sexual soldier. “Kendall.” My name chokes from him like a dull ache just as an explosion of warm salted liquid fills my mouth. “Kenny.” He pants it out in a fit of ecstasy this time and less of a warning. I wait until his throbbing ceases before spitting it out onto my T-shirt.

“Sorry,” I say, making my way back up to him. “That might be something I have to work up to.” And even that seems doubtful at the moment.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Cruise grins through his erratic breathing and pulls me in. I try to give him a kiss, and he’s quick to deflect my efforts.

“No fair,” I whisper. “You kissed me after.”

“That’s because you’re different.”

I trace him with my finger, his rough stubble, the sharp M of his lips, his filament-like lashes.

Cruise peers over me while resting on his elbow. His sharp features catch the light and bless him with all of the adulation the flames have to offer. His skin washes out in bronze, and he looks like a statue that’s miraculously animated to life.

“Turnabouts fair play.” He dusts the curves of my body with his mouth and a beautiful ache erupts in the pit of my stomach. Cruise melts over me, pulling my thighs up over his shoulder. He buries a kiss in my most intimate part, and everything in me surrenders to Cruise.





Cruise



Friday morning, snow blankets the earth like manna from heaven while all of Garrison disappears in an Arctic layer of fog. Our world is unreasonably beautiful, but just as cold, and I’ve got two hundred dollars cash waiting to turn into a winter coat and boots for Kenny. That’ll have to wait until the day is through. If I manage to have anything left, I think I’ll throw in dinner—hell, I’ll throw in dinner anyway.