What in the hell was I doing?
You know, besides throwing my leg over Eric’s and thereby putting myself in a position that – quite frankly- would easily facilitate in me humping his body with my panty-less pussy.
My pussy, that wasn’t named Eric.
Truth be told, I didn’t have a fucking clue. What I was doing or what I should name my pussy. But the fact was I liked it, whatever it was.
And speaking of like…Holy Abs Batman!
Come to momma!
It hadn’t taken much more than waking up with his giant paw on my boob for me to rethink the whole ‘We aren’t going there’ stance I’d been enforcing. For one, it had been a really long time since anyone else’s hands had touched me like that besides my own. And two, I was the product of a drunken trucker and a used up stripper.
‘Staples’ should be emblazoned on my ass because if Eric had tried tapping that, it would’ve been easy.
But those were my whore-moans talking. I knew it and I accepted it. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time Eric had gotten my nethers in a tizzy, but the problem now was that it wasn’t the only part of me he had swooning.
Parts of my head.
Parts of my heart.
If I learned at some point he was a genius at giving foot rubs, then from head to toe, the man would have the whole of me swooning so far over, I’d be leaning towards him like my name was Pisa.
Maybe that would be a good name for my pussy. It sure beat Tokyo.
My plan had been to get him to relax come hell or high water. But what I hadn’t planned on happening was how that might affect me. We’d always gotten along. Like brother and sister. Like mother and son. Like the almighty corporate guru and his trusty sidekick. No matter the situation, Eric and I fell easily into our roles. Whether he was the chocolate in my peanut butter or I was the peanut butter on his chocolate, it all tasted the same.
It tasted good.
And while I’d felt something subtly shift over the last month, something had shifted today that should’ve registered as a ten on the Richter scale. We’d talked and laughed with each other plenty over the last three years, but today it had felt different. More intimate.
More like a couple rather than like a couple of smartasses trying to one up each other.
But I didn’t know how to feel about that. I knew Eric better than probably Eric even knew himself and yet I couldn’t tell if he’d felt it too.
While I kept telling myself that Eric could never be the one for me – he didn’t seem capable of being monogamous, much less interested in being in a relationship – I couldn’t deny my feelings for him had changed. I’d always been fond of him. I’d always felt protective over him. I’d always been able to see through the bullshit his mouth spouted to see the reasons behind it all. But I knew if I took that step – crossed that line – there would be no going back for me. I might be able to pretend I wasn’t bothered if I came across another one of his takeouts a week from now, but on the inside I would feel hollow.
The fact was Eric had become my number one priority over the last three years. My world revolved around him, so I didn’t have the time or the inclination to go looking for someone else to fulfill whatever needs I might have had and I’d had plenty of offers.
But none of them compared when put up against Eric.
He was the model I used to judge every potential relationship. Every man who asked me out – be it for coffee, dinner, or a movie – I asked myself, “Is this someone I could see one day being more important to me than Eric?”
The answer had always been no.
But maybe that was my own issue. My secret hero worship throwing a monkey wrench into my relationships and flinging shit at anyone who threatened my relationship with Eric.
Or maybe I just wanted to climb Eric like a monkey.
So now, there I was, lying in bed with Eric, with my Pisa leaning against his hip and wondering if he tasted more like peanut butter or chocolate. Hopefully, he’d think I was just incontinent instead of turned on, if he felt the moisture that was slowly pervading the side of his H&M’s.
The embarrassment would certainly be less than if he figured out otherwise.
“I’m onto you, you know,” he whispered into the darkened room.
I’m onto you too. Your boxers are smeared with a sample of my Sookie flavored peanut butter.
“What do you mean?” I asked, without moving to look at him.
Or moving my anything else lower on my body, fearing I would give him an even bigger sample. The size you could only find at Costco.
Or in a well-stocked bomb shelter.
Besides, I’d been looking at him all day and that was what had gotten me into this mess. And gotten him messy in the process.
“You,” he chuckled softly. “You pranced around nearly naked all day long knowing I would follow you like a puppy.”
“More like a horn dog,” I snickered.
A horn dog with his bone-r. Talk about leaning towers.
Thinking about it made me want to scale him like that French Spiderman guy scaled skyscrapers in Dubai because I had a feeling it would be both exhilarating and possibly illegal. I knew he would let me. I knew he would probably encourage me to do it – with gusto – but I forced myself to remain still.
Because with great power comes great responsibility.
That Stan Lee really knows his shit.
But just because him and his pipe followed my Pied Piper ass around didn’t mean things had shifted so much that I believed he wouldn’t love me today and leave me tomorrow. I knew I was important to Eric, but that wasn’t enough.
My whore-moans be damned.
If I fell for him – completely fell for him – I’d never be the same. I could make him my top priority. I could make him the axis my world spun on, but if I went for spin on his axis then I knew my world would never be the same. I’d be screwed in more ways than one (double the points!) because he’d be a hard act to follow. And if I couldn’t accept it was just another roll in the hay for him, then I would be forced to leave.
It scared me. I was afraid to believe it was more than just Operation Werewolf that had made him forsake his takeout. Afraid to believe I could ever be more to him because I wasn’t so sure he was wired that way.
But rather than allowing myself to think about all of the ways I could end up miserable in that scenario, I told myself it had more to do with the fact I hated job hunting.
It was an easier pill to swallow.
And speaking of easy…
His hand was making slow circles on my thigh, seemingly oblivious to the growing smear of peanut butter his actions were churning out of me, when he asked, “What are we doing?”
He’d asked me the same question earlier – twice – but I’d deflected both times. Like Wonder Woman with her trusty gold cuffs, I mimicked Neo’s moves like I was firmly implanted within the matrix, letting his question ricochet off into the ether. But now there was no way for me to bend – light, the time space continuum, or at the waist, lest he get smeared. No way for me to swerve around the giant wall named Eric now that I was trapped in his bed with nothing left to distract him with.
Well, there was something I could distract him with. Namely dipping his chocolate into my peanut butter, but I was still afraid my Reese’s would be left in pieces when all was said and done.
Since Eric was the one who was born with balls – I’d been ignoring the fact I could feel them resting against my knee – I left them in his H&M court and said, “You tell me.”
He may have been lying on the most comfortable bed money could buy, but I felt his body slowly tense up anyway. So I grappled with the invisible force field I was trying to cover my heart with when he finally answered, “I don’t know.”
I almost laughed. Hearing those three little words coming from his lips were almost as implausible as hearing him say three other little words. Besides, laughing would’ve been a hell of a lot better than bursting into tears, but instead I quashed both of those urges and didn’t give him any reaction at all.
Unless my inaction could be classified as chicken.
Buk buk buk bukkaaa!
“I don’t,” he began and then paused, searching for the words as he searched my thigh for chicken feathers. “I don’t know where to start. I don’t know what to do. I feel anchored and lost at the same time. It’s…unsettling.”
His words were leaving me a little lost too. I didn’t want to read into them because for all I knew his mind was back on Operation Werewolf. Eric had ADHD to the Nth degree and he often jumped from one topic to another with no segue. And since he hadn’t talked about it much during the day, it would make sense for his mind to wander back there now when there was nothing left to distract him. So when the silence grew too much for me to ignore any longer, I finally shrugged, swallowing my inner cluck and tested the waters by offering, “I have other earrings you can ruin if you want.”
“No, it’s not that,” he sighed. “It’s just…I…”
It was so odd to hear him struggle with anything. Eric always said exactly what was on his mind – no matter how inappropriate – and it automatically put me into helper mode, so I offered, “Start at the beginning.”
And then without warning he kissed me stupid.
I’d thought he was pulling my chin up so that I would finally look at him, but instead of his eyes, it was his lips that grabbed my attention.
Still soft as a cloud, they gently pressed against my own, until I had to close my eyes when I could no longer see straight. But my third eye further down was starting to blink back tears.
Maybe I could call her Chakra?
More like Chakra Khan because I was definitely feeling for him. A lot of different things – hot and bothered among them.
When his tongue softly swiped against my own, seeking entrance, there was no way I could deny him any longer. Every which way he moved against me were all of the right ones and I silently mused how unfair it was he’d been standing at the front of every line when God doled out attributes.
Sex appeal? Check.
Cockzilla? Check check.
I’d gotten an eyeful of it more than a few times that day, but like in any good whore-er film, it was always just lurking. It hadn’t sprung out at me from a closet or from under the bed, snatching my snatch until I screamed to the high heavens.
And I had no doubt it would be heavenly.
But now the only thing between me and the monster was a pair of high-end undies.
And the sensations coursing through me left me feeling a little high.
“How’s that for a start?” he whispered against my lips when I was nearing oxygen deprivation.
We’d somehow moved – and I’d somehow missed how it happened – because Eric was now lying on top of me, with his chocolate bar pressing against the top of my peanut butter jar, and my hands twisted into his hair. Staring back at him, with him so close and so Eric and looking so affectionate, the first thought to flit through my mind came tumbling out of my lips.
“I’m so fucked.”
And the sky was blue. Just like his eyes.
“Not yet,” he smirked, but there was something else behind his eyes. Behind his smartassery.
Something I couldn’t – wouldn’t – name and not knowing what it was, I ended up repeating his earlier question of, “What are we doing?”
His eyes may as well have shouted back, “Buk buk buk bukkaaaa!”
And feeling his cock still trying to doodle my doo, I forced myself to add, “I can’t do this Eric. We can’t do this because if we do, things will change. We’re a lot alike and if you were anyone else, I could easily just fuck you and forget it. But you’re not anyone else and I wouldn’t be able to forget it. I might be able to act like I did, but it would be an Oscar worthy lie.”
“We’ll get back to how often you’ve fucked and forgotten in the past,” Mr. Pot glared.
At me – Miss Kettle, apparently.
But his expression softened just as quickly when he added, “But who says I want either one of us to forget? Sookie…you have to know by now that you mean more to me than…well…anyone. Anything. I want more with you, so tell me I’m not the only one who feels this way.”
“But what does that mean, Eric?” I asked, ignoring his plea for reciprocity. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t show my cards – the ace of hearts on my sleeve – given everything I knew about him. I needed the boy genius to dumb it down for me, so I added, “I know I’m your favorite flavor of human, but are you looking for a sit down full course meal here or are we talking Sunday suppers? Something a little more hearty that you look forward to at the end of the week, but on the other six days, you’re dining on something else.”
It almost felt too unfair of a question to ask of him. More than just my boss, Eric was my friend. My closest one, if I wanted to admit it to myself. Asking him what his intentions were so early in the hot potato game we were playing with my heart, when all he’d done so far was kiss me stupid, seemed…well, stupid.
I wasn’t really sure what I expected. I wasn’t sure it mattered anymore. It already seemed too late because I knew – no matter what – I was just teetering on the razor wire fence that would rip me to shreds no matter which side I fell on.
Everything had already changed.
I’d somehow missed that happening too.
Pushing himself up onto his hands, he stared down at me and I was again struck stupid. By his expression and his next words. With his blond hair falling down around his eyes, the strands swayed when he gently shook his head and he smiled softly as he said, “You, Sookie. I want you, on Sundays and on every other day of the week. I can’t promise everything will always be easy between us, but I can promise I’ll be faithful to you. I don’t want anyone else. And to be honest, I haven’t really wanted anyone else since I first saw you. I acted like an idiot before, but I’m yours now, whether you want me or not and I’ll remain yours for as long as you’ll have me. So what do you say?”
“You had me at ‘you’,” I grinned, feeling ridiculously happy and a tad cheesy for paying homage to Jerry Maguire.
Eric grinned in return and slowly lowered himself until he was lying on top of me again as he asked, “So, I complete you?”
Wrapping my legs around his waist, with my Chakra looking for the spiritual enlightenment that could be found in his boxers, I pulled him back for a kiss and taunted, “Not yet, so show me the money.”
We didn’t need words after that. Scissors would’ve been nice or perhaps some sort of preternatural strength because we were each fighting the little bit of clothing that still covered our bodies.
I wanted them off.
And I wanted him in.
Me. Right now.
Thankfully, Eric seemed to be of the same mindset because he didn’t waste any time. As soon as we were both naked like God intended, his hands and lips were everywhere.
It was just one more thing we had in common.
The whole damn day seemed like a tortuously long round of foreplay, so I didn’t give him the chance to try and show off his genius sexual skills. There was no need. Not now. Not when the streets of Tokyo were already flooded from the rise of the Godzilla in their midst.
And while I gave him a rash of shit for the STD’s I jokingly accused him of having, I knew he was clean. I was on the pill (Sookie Stackhouse was always prepared!) and God knows I’d cleaned up enough wrappers of a different kind when dealing with his takeout, so I didn’t hesitate to sink down on him when we rolled over, knowing doing so wouldn’t give me a rash later on.
Like I said, being Godric’s favorite had its benefits and access to Eric’s medical history was one of them.
He could knock my socks off later with his fornication flair – in fact, I expected him to – but right now I wanted to fuck.
Something else we had in common.
I moaned out loud, feeling him stretch me in ways no one else ever had, and Eric’s long drawn out, “Fuuucckk,” was well said.
Hear fucking hear!
And reminding me of his telepathic powers, he grabbed my hips in each of his bear paws repeating, “Fuck. You’re so fucking tight.”
“You just like to snuggle,” I playfully accused and raised myself up, slamming back down onto him and making both of us moan. “So of course you’d appreciate a snug fit.”
“I appreciate more than that,” he growled and sat up, booby trapping me once more. “These are works of art.”
“If you call me rubenesque, I’m gonna hurt you,” I warned jokingly. Mostly, while I tried to push away the memories of every skinny ass I’d dragged out of the house. I was curvy and I was okay with that.
And he’d get a purple nurple if he suggested otherwise.
He ignored my warning in favor of adding teeth to his booby trap, nipping at my skin and adding to the sensation overload I was already feeling. But when he was satisfied I wouldn’t be able to remember my own name, he proved I could still remember his when he threw us both onto my back and began pounding into me.
The sudden change in position and angle had me crying out, “Eric!” making his expression look victorious in return, but it was warranted.
He was fucking me like a champ.
“You’re mine now, Sookie,” he warned, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips. “You already were before, but now…now I’ll never let you go.”
His body dropped down on top of mine, so that he was grinding my clit with every grind of his hips and his words went in one ear and straight out of my Pisa because his possessive snarling was all it took to throw me over the edge. I screamed out his name once more and gripped his body with every part of mine that could reach him.
No wonder those trampy bitches never wanted to leave the next morning.
Eric made some sort of strangled ‘guh’ sound right before he roared something else unintelligible when I felt him cum inside of me. It was enough to set off a second smaller orgasm in me, one that he drew out by continuing to lazily thrust his hips against my own.
He was even a genius at being lazy.
When our heart rates had slowed and our breathing evened out, he leaned up to smile down at me as he said, “I meant it, you know. I’ll never let you go now.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” I smiled and brought his lips back to mine for another kiss. It was one of many things we held against each other for the rest of the night.