Home > Dress Up Your Teddy (Her Teddy Bear #3)(4)

Dress Up Your Teddy (Her Teddy Bear #3)(4)
Author: Mimi Strong

After a bit, though, he was getting into the swing of things, even learning what to shout out at the screen. He had a big grin on his face as he yelled “Asshole!” after the narrator said Brad Majors' name.

When the Time Warp came on and everyone got to their feet to dance, he was up before I was, and when the song ended, he pulled me down on top of his lap playfully. We made out until the people behind us started to grumble.

The performers were fantastic, and it was one of the finest performances I'd ever seen. Everyone in the audience snapped their rubber gloves in perfect timing, creating the most incredible sound. Even the toilet paper roll tossing, which I'm not usually a fan of, was beautiful to the point of being damn near romantic.

Trevor and I kissed as rolls of bathroom tissue criss-crossed high over our heads like fireworks.

After the movie, Chad and his date invited us to the after-party, at a nearby loft.

We were standing in the lobby, where the lights were dim enough to keep everyone looking sexy and scary in the good way. A couple of drag queens on platform shoes walked past us, their latex and plastic clothing squeaking like pool toys.

Trevor was waffling about whether or not he wanted to go to the party, and Chad said, “Exactly how old are you? Naomi never said.”

I gave him a dirty look. Of course I'd never said, since I didn't know, but now I was curious.

Trevor's eyes darted from Chad to me, then back again. “Thirty-two.”

Chad whistled. “That's nearly a decade older than our girl Naomi.”

I slipped one arm behind Trevor's back and wrapped the other protectively around his front. “It's just a few years,” I said, giving Chad the shut-up-now look.

Trevor gazed down at me. “Let's go to the party. It'll be fun.”

I squeezed him in a hug. “Just for a few minutes. Then I want you all to myself.”

It was the type of party that makes you feel old and square, no matter how old you actually are, or how hip you think you look. People were talking about taking drugs I've never even heard of, much less tried.

I thought I'd know more people, but none of my friends except Chad were there, though he was the life of the party, flitting around and talking to everyone, including three really old guys with long, gray beards. The beards didn't seem to be Halloween costumers, so I wondered if they were in a band, or hired as entertainment.

One woman was playing a cello in the corner. Just the one woman—no band or anything, and she was competing to be heard over the loud dubstep music on the sterero.

Trevor leaned down and shouted near my ear, “What do you think they're paying her?”

She kept playing, utterly focused on her sheet music.

I yelled back, “Whatever it is, it's not enough!”

“Wanna dance?” He swung his arms from side to side, pretending to snap his fingers in a jaunty fashion.

“Not really.”

He nodded for me to come join him.

Nobody else was dancing, but he found an empty space near the middle of the room and began to put on a show. At first, he pretended he was terrible at dancing, just joking, but then he brought out the moves. He did some fancy footwork and fast turns, surprisingly agile and flexible for a tall guy.

People stepped back to watch and give him space. He waved me over to him, so I danced up toward him, and he wrapped his arms around me.

The instant we touched, the beat changed, and the DJ in the opposite corner changed up the song, to something melodic. The sound actually blended with the cello, the two sounds clashing yet mixing.

Trevor held me close and swayed. I lay my cheek against his shoulder and enjoyed it.

“Typical DJ,” Trevor said, his voice now easier to hear over the softer song. “I'm trying to show off for a cute girl and he tricks me into dancing a slow song.”

“I don't mind.”

He grinned down at me. “Me neither.”

We kept dancing, swaying together, and I noticed something was happening in the front of Trevor's pants. It was happening in my panties as well—or at least the female equivalent—but Trevor's was hard to miss.

His firming length pressed against my stomach.

I looked up at him. “Slow dancing does it for you, huh?”

His hands tightened around my waist. “Just with you, Naomi.”

“We should get out of here.” I looked around at the people, some of whom looked to be high school age, just young girls with cat ears on headbands. “This party's making me feel old.”

Trevor laughed, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. “I thought it was just me.”

He twirled me around and pressed his erection into my back, then guided me toward the door. It reminded me of our first date, when I'd massaged his crotch with my foot underneath the table, then had to be his modesty shield on the way out.

Once outside the loft, we were in a hallway, but it wasn't the same way we came in, so we weren't sure how to get out. After deciding we didn't want to go back into the party, we tried a stairwell door.

The stairwell was cool and smelled of concrete. Through an open window, we could hear the crackle-crackle-pop of Halloween fireworks outside.

All alone now, we stopped on the stairwell and Trevor pulled me in for a kiss.

As his lips pressed down on mine hungrily, I felt his hands grip my waist, and he lifted me up one step, while staying on his.

I opened my eyes, surprised to find us eye to eye, thanks to the step. His amber eyes, flecked with black and gold, captivated me, taking away all my words and thoughts.

Kissing him again, enjoying the new angle, my hands ran over his body, up and down his strong back, and then down his front. Through the fabric of his pants, I stroked his now-firm erection, giving it a good squeeze. He was as hard as he'd ever been, and I wanted him inside me.

I took a small step out with one foot, and he slipped one hand up under my skirt. He deftly found the slit opening in my panties and pushed his finger through, gliding his finger up and down along my wet folds.

I gasped against his mouth and fumbled with his belt buckle. I left the belt done up, pulled down the zipper, and reached in through the opening for his cock. It was so hot in my hand, so na**d and velvet soft on the surface.

He pushed my hand away and pulled me to him, plunging inside me. I was gasping again, panting, which gave way to moaning.

He thrust upward urgently, driving himself into me. I heard a tapping sound, shoes on the stairs, but they were my shoes, tapping down and landing on the steps between thrusts.

My cl*t was aching, locked behind the fabric of the panties in that position. I reached between us to adjust the cloth, and as I swept my fingers across my clit, everything around me got dimmer, and there was only the two of us, me and Trevor.

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