Chris then gestures vaguely to the other room. “The boudoir. But you can’t see that tonight,” he says playfully. I land on the side of good taste and opt not to peer into his bedroom, but I notice out of the corner of my eye he has a king-size bed with a beige cover, white walls, and blond book shelves beside the headboard.
“So there you go,” he says, leaning against the wall in his hallway, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops on his jeans. I can’t help myself. My eyes drift down to the bulge in his pants. How am I going to refrain from taking his clothes off and wrapping my legs around him? But I know once we go there, I’ll be gone for him. I’ll be more over the moon than I already am. Once he’s inside me, there will be no turning back.
I want to, I’m almost there, but yet the possibility of being shattered in a million pieces again prevents me from taking that step. So I turn away and walk to Qbert. I run a hand across the control panel, feeling the joystick against my palm. I trace my fingers across the name in its big, balloon-y print. Then I peek at the side of the machine. The entire side panel is a bright bold yellow with an illustration of Qbert cursing as he nears the edge of the pyramid. I return to the screen and lay my cheek against it.
“You sure you don’t want me to leave you alone with it?”
“I have other plans,” I say, but then I’m distracted when I notice the Galaga machine to the right, then a Donkey Kong.
“My God, you have your own arcade.”
He joins me by the games. “Would you be impressed if I told you I built them all myself?”
My eyes open wide. I can’t believe what he is saying. My brain is about to pop. “You built an arcade game?”
“You make it sound like I made a time machine out of a Delorean. It wasn’t that hard.”
“Wasn’t that hard?” I parrot back. “How do you make an arcade game?”
“I dusted off an old computer, found some source code from this non-profit development project that preserves old arcade games, tweaked it up a bit and then built the cabinet.”
“This is amazing. You have some serious skills,” I say.
“And you haven’t even seen me surf. I can ride some serious waves.”
“You can ride this wave,” I say suggestively. “You can make this wave.” I hop up on the Qbert, and sit on the console, my legs dangling in front of the machine. I glance down at my skirt, and he gets the hint.
“You on my Qbert machine might possibly blow my mind. But I’m willing to try.”
He runs his hands through my hair and kisses me hard, as if he needs to kiss me first for foreplay or something. But even a whisper of a kiss from him is all I need. Besides, I’ve been ready for this since the karaoke bar.
He moves to my neck, kissing me there, then pulls off my shirt, cupping my br**sts with my bra on. He unhooks it in seconds flat, and his tongue flicks over a nipple, then the other one and I lean my head back and say his name, and that sound moves him further down my body, as he kisses my belly, then pushes up my skirt. He’s gentle as he lifts my butt and wiggles off my underwear, careful to make sure I don’t bonk the joystick. Then he bends lower, kissing the inside of my thighs, softly, trailing his tongue from my knee all the way up, then darting over to the other leg.
I am electric and fiery from every touch of him, and I am dying to feel his mouth on me. I want to pull him between my thighs so he can taste me, lick me, press his lips against my warm wetness, and do all the things he said he wants to do.
“Chris,” I moan, since he’s teasing me, toying with me, making me want him more.
He nibbles lightly on my thigh, as his strong hands spread my legs wider. I accidentally bump the start button, and even though he hasn’t put a quarter in the game, the theme music from Qbert begins. I laugh, and so does he, but then my laugh turns into a long, low moan at the first flick of his tongue on me. He makes this sound too, like a rumble, as he tastes how ready I am for him. It’s like an altered state I’ve entered, and my whole body is crackling with heat. He is magnificent, his tongue divine as he traces delirious lines up and down my center that make me whimper.
My noises drive him, and each sound that tumbles from my lips makes him hungrier for me, and we become this perfect feedback loop of wanting, and giving, and taking as I grow wetter and hotter with every single touch. I am in heaven with him, I am in a white-hot dream. I grip the edge of the game console as he consumes me with his mouth, his tongue, his lips.
His mouth was tailor-made for me. He goes down on me like he’s kissing me and devouring me at the same time, somehow both soft and hungry in the fevered slide of his delicious lips against my very core, driving me wild.
Then his hands slink under my thighs and he lifts my legs onto his shoulders, draping them over his back. I feel so completely vulnerable with him, as if I am giving myself to him completely, but I’m not scared anymore, because he wants what I have to give. He wants me, all of me, only me, and that’s why I’m nearly panting as I say his name, and tell him how good it feels, because it does, it feels good, it feels great, it feels like everything is happening for the first time, and the best time, and that it won’t be the last time. It’ll be the start of something amazing with him.
Then he brings me there, and he shatters me with an orgasm that’s as endless as it is intense. I let go of the side of the game, and I grab his hair, his ridiculously soft hair that slides through my fingers, and I hold onto him as I come hard, with the kind of soundtrack that drives neighbors jealous.