The Arrangement Anthology 2(165)
I laugh at that. Leaning closely, I place a finger on his cheek, saying, “Don’t give me the morality speech, not from you. Besides, I don’t believe that crap. People can choose to be good and people can choose to be bad. Good people can do bad things and bad people can do good things. No one is intrinsically anything. Besides, from what you just said, you want to make sure you’re the one with the power to save your brothers and the people they care about. That doesn’t sound bad to me.” I touch his shoulder, leaving my hand there, feeling the strong, firm muscles beneath my grip.
He is so tense and so worried about me. Sean glances at me out of the corner of his eye as if he’s acknowledging that I’m right, albeit reluctantly. I give him a lopsided smile in return and say, “Love can make you do all sorts of crazy things. Some are earth shattering while others seem mundane. The thing is, you and I found each other, and a love like we have is rare, like fairytale territory.”
“So does that make you Cinderella?” Sean smiles at me, revealing that dimple.
The comparison makes me laugh. “Are you saying Cinderella was a hooker? Because I know she got with the prince a little fast, but I thought it was because of the pumpkin coach. Unless that was like slang for some kind of STD. In which case she gave it to the Prince. And let’s face it, Prince Charming was a wuss. He didn’t do anything except bring a bunch of girls one shoe. Who the hell wants one shoe?” The thought makes me laugh, as the comparison becomes clear in my mind. “Holy shit, did you say your mom is like the evil stepmother?”
Sean starts laughing. It’s way too late and we’re way too tired, because I’m sure this wasn’t a funny joke but for some reason it makes both of us laugh hysterically. “I don’t think anybody would deny it.”
“Then let’s steal her happily ever after. Fuck everyone else. Break the glass slipper, I know you can. My Prince Charming has pumpkin-sized balls.” I can barely get the words out without laughing, partly because it’s true, and partly because it’s a really good visualization for Sean Ferro. Apparently he thinks so too because he leans into me giggling—giggling. The man is giggling.
“That makes Jon and Pete the ugly stepsisters.” That deep booming laugh comes from deep within him. It’s a rare sound that I absolutely love to hear.
“So you see why I like you the best. You’re the prettiest.” We start laughing again because somehow in the scenario he’s become the Cinderella and I’ve become big balled Prince Charming. God, I’m so tired, but we can’t stop laughing.
Sean reaches for my ankle and lifts my foot to his mouth, kissing the pad of my toe lightly. Suddenly, nothing’s funny. I gasp as he does it, having no clue that it would make me feel this way.
Sean’s lips twist into a wicked smile. “Really? You have a toe thing?”
“I do not.” I sound very dignified until he slips one of my toes between his lips and all the air is sucked from my body in a luscious breath. His tongue flicks against my skin and I nearly scream with excitement. Hands clutching the sheets, I sit upright and try to pull my foot away. “No, no, no!”
Sean holds onto my ankle firmly, refusing to free me. “I think the words that you're looking for are, ‘yes yes yes.’ This is so much better than the box. I can see the look on your face, the way your eyes sparkle, the way your lips twist into a panicked smile. Meanwhile, you’re the one talking about morality, what’s weird and what’s not, and then you swoon over toe kisses.”
“I’m not swooning.” Okay so that’s a total lie. As soon as he puts his mouth on my toes again, I’m lost. I’m gone, swept away the same as when he kisses that spot on my shoulder, and I just can’t stand it. I moan too loudly and rip the bedding underneath. My nails actually dig into the silk sheets and tear them. My back arches up in the air as I moan with ecstasy.
Sean doesn’t relent. His kisses stay focused on my feet, on my toes, until I admit that I have a thing—a very weird super sensitivity where kisses feel good on my toes. The sensations make me writhe and call out. I beg him to stop, but he won’t, not until I give in and admit that I’m a foot freak.
In a voice that’s way too high pitched and breathy, I dart upright, gasping, “Fine! You’re right! You’re right.” I pant the last word because he’s stopped torturing me. I’m such a nutter. I wiggle my foot, trying to jerk it away, but Sean holds on.
He gently massages my toes, touching the right places to make me quiver. Then I’m treated to a full smile that reveals both dimples. “I love it when I’m right.”