I took a swig from the bottle. The pungent liquid filled my mouth and splashed the outside of my lips, running down my chin while I threw back the contents burning my insides. My teeth couldn’t scratch off the bitter film still clinging to the top of my tongue, no matter how much I tried scraping the alcohol away. Holding the bottle by the neck, I set it down with a firm thud onto the wood of my coffee table, dead-center between where we both sat.
“My turn.”
In the darkness of the room, Joel’s eyes still sparkled like sun-soaked gems, filled with the excitement of a child. Five minutes before, I may not have wanted to play with him, but it wasn’t like there was anything better to do, and maybe in his real life he didn’t have anyone to play something as simple as I Spy with. Granted, we were both adults, and I couldn’t say that I’d played the game in fifteen years. If he wants to play, we’ll play.
“I spy something blue.” He stared into my eyes so intensely that if I had blue eyes I would be sure that he was referring to the color of my irises. Instead, I know there are only two things in the room that contain the color blue—the throw pillow to his left is a chevron pattern with varying shades of white, gray, and blue.
“The painting.” I gave Joel my poker-face as I took my best guess.
“Nope.” He gave a subtle shake of his head, the smug smile spreading wider—stretched so thin that it looked like the creases of his mouth would touch his ears if he kept that up.
“You’re lying.”
“I swear,” he said, holding up his hand like he was a good little Boy Scout. I wasn’t falling for it. That smile wasn’t made from being nice and honest; that smile didn’t come from good little boys. “It’s the movie case on the far right. In there.” He nodded his head to the media console with the glass panes showing a few cases of movies lined up.
“So, you’re not a liar. You’re a cheater. There’s no way you can see that small writing from where you’re sitting. Not with the lights out, you can’t.”
“I have 20/20 vision, the better to see you with, my dear. Now, what’ll it be? You finally taking something off? Or you taking the loser’s route again?”
The sight of me taking my top off shut him up like the sound of a gong ringing out into the silence. I thought he had choked on his tongue for how quiet he got. It was the first time since I’d met him that he had nothing to say—no off-handed remarks or witty one-liners—nothing. The silence was beautiful, and for the first time in a long time, I found a smug smile on my own face.
The game continued on, and at the first opportunity Joel got down to his jeans, while I was down to my bra and no underwear—for which I had to strategically cross my legs for coverage—and a fifth of the bottle taking up residence in my stomach.
I lost again and before I could pick up the bottle, Joel’s hands reached out to grab me, stilling the fingers still twined around the neck of the whiskey.
“I say we raise the stakes. I don’t want you getting piss-drunk, and chances are you’re too modest to completely strip down. Plus, that kind of means I won, right? How about we change the loser’s choice?”
“Wha-what new stakes?” I was sure I slurred a little, but I didn’t have time to sound out the way “stakes” sounded before Joel answered me.
“How about every time one of us wins, they can forfeit stripping and drinking for a kiss from the other player.”
“You’re saying this like…like there’re other people…other people playing. You’re just trying to kiss me. I see you.” My finger swayed, drawing what looked to be lazy figure eights in the air as I pointed to him now sitting only a couple feet from me.
“You’re close. When did you get so close?”
“You didn’t answer me.”
“About the kiss? You just want to taste me.”
“There are a million places on your body that I’d love to lay my lips on. Your mouth is only one of them. Are you scared?”
“Of you? Absolutely.”
I forgot what we were sparring about when he removed my hand from the glass, shifting me closer with a gentle pull of my wrist. With my hand still in his and him drawing closer with every huff of breath escaping my lips, I could feel the raw energy coursing through me with the nearness of him. The anticipation made me feel imprisoned in my own skin, completely beholden to wherever he wanted to lay those lush lips full of promises to tear through my resolve like a flesh-eating bacteria. I pulled my legs in tighter to my body, angling my body toward his. With the shift in position I could smell him better. He still had that masculine scent that seemed to be ingrained in every pore, but he also smelled like my soap, which offered me a type of comfort that I didn’t know I wanted from him. Its familiar and clean scent mixed with the addition of his natural smell made me want to spend the rest of the night cuddled up in bed playing little spoon to his big spoon.
The fingers wrapped around my wrists released, and my hands dropped to the couch like sunken anchors. I fought my knees from unwrapping to give him a full-on view of a panty-less Blaire. His hands moved to my shins, burning a path to my knees where my nerves fizzled like a carbonated soda. His body hovered over my legs, his breath sending blankets of heat billowing across my skin and up my legs to the place that beckoned him to come closer, breathe deeper, blow harder until my core wept for relief. Soft lips brushed the outside of my knee, igniting a fire beneath my skin that continued burning as he kissed his way between my knees. Temptation loomed through my slurred thoughts, and when I was sure that my body would surrender, Joel pulled away. A peek of his tongue escaped his mouth, licking along the lips that held the taste of my skin on the surface.
Did he just wink at me?
He pulled back, sinking back into the couch with a renewed smile. Something about the look made me want to smile, too.
The game continued and when he lost his next turn, I couldn’t decide whether it was intentional or if he genuinely lost, especially with the last piece of clothing being his jeans. Before the button of his pants even popped open I knew what to expect when his pants fell to the floor—he made it known his penchant for going commando. I watched with apprehensive yet curious eyes as he stood. Unblinking eyes watched me like I was a patron at a peep show, except I didn’t know which of us he was undressing with that look. Maybe it said more about me that I wanted to see him stripped bare, than it said about him that he felt comfortable completely naked. Not that he had flaws like us mere mortals. I couldn’t imagine him taking off his pants and becoming less than god-like. I imagined the opposite to happen as I watched his fingers unfasten the button and the raspy snick of his zipper being undone. His hands shifted on either side of his hips, pulling the fabric that fought his thighs on the way down to the floor.
His cock sprang free, and I can’t remember which happened first—the gasp that escaped my lungs or the hand that covered the gaping hole of my mouth, wide enough for him to fill with his impressive length, large enough to put someone’s eye out. At first glance, I looked away, intimidated by his size and also a bit in awe that I’d already mounted the steel-like rod that jutted out toward me. With reservation, my eyes found his, watching him watch my reaction. Joel still stood with his briefs lying at his feet. Proud of my determination, my eyes didn’t so much as steal a look at the one thing that eluded me since waking up to find a stranger in my house.
“You’re, you have…is that a piercing?”
“Would you like a closer look?”