“I like the sound of that,” Colby answers as he pulls on his shirt. He sounds tired.
I show him the way and then run back upstairs to throw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. Hey, don’t judge. He told me to do what I would’ve done if he weren’t here. My plans definitely involved my favorite sweatpants.
And so, that is how our night begins. With me in sweats curled up next to Colby under a warm blanket. My media room is always chilly, so I always keep fuzzy blankets available and tonight, it certainly comes in handy.
We pop popcorn and share each other’s Chinese. We then watch goofy old movies until Colby decides that I need to learn to make jello shots, because they are apparently delicious and a necessity in life. So we run up to the kitchen and mix up a batch, leaving them in the fridge to set up while we watch another movie.
After the stupidest and corniest horror movie in the history of the earth is finally over, we return to the kitchen to try our handiwork.
Colby hands me a cherry one, while he takes a lime.
“Why did you have these little cups on hand, anyway?” he asks me as he pops the lid off.
“Honestly, I don’t remember,” I tell him. “I think Sophie needed them for a fundraiser that she was doing for her cheerleading squad last year.”
“Well, here’s to cheerleading then,” Colby toasts with his little plastic cup. And then he scoops the jello out with his tongue. I do the same.
I nod, processing the flavor. “I can barely taste the vodka,” I tell him. He nods back.
“That’s the point,” he says. He hands me another. “That’s why they go down so smoothly.”
We again scoop the jello out with our tongues. I can’t help but watch Colby’s tongue. I know personally that it is a very skilled tongue. But tonight, he is Colby. And things are different when he is Colby, I remind myself. And I should probably be concerned that I’m spending my Saturday night hanging out with a young gigolo.
But apparently, jello shots have a way of sneaking up on you and changing the way you previously thought of something.
Because as Colby and I laugh and joke, we manage to do several (as in ten) more jello shots each. And then one of us (me) decides that we should do body-shots because I’ve never done one.
“Seriously, I tell him. “Can you show me how? Because I think it’s a life skill that one ought to have.”
I’m drunk. And I’m a big enough person to say that I’m drunk.
“I’m drunk,” I add. “And that’s definitely a good time to learn to do a body shot.”
Colby looks at me, studying me. He’s oh-so-handsome. And it’s easy to forget, in this moment, that he is younger than me. And that I should only think of him this way when he’s Shade. Because damn, he’s sexy. I take a deep breath.
Colby smiles. “You’re right. A body shot is a life skill that you should definitely master. Come on- I’ll do one on you to demonstrate and then you can do one on me. Do you have tequila?”
I nod, suddenly very fascinated by the prospect of this lesson.
“Do you have salt and limes?”
Again, I nod as Colby searches through the kitchen. As he does, I clean off the granite breakfast bar. He turns around with all of the supplies that we need and finds me stripping down.
He raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t want to get tequila on my favorite sweats,” I shrug innocently. Which of course doesn’t explain why I’m stripping off my panties and bra, too.
I’m so going to hell.
He laughs and helps me onto the bar. I stretch my feet out and put my arms behind my head. The granite is cold beneath me and I shiver.
“Want me to warm you up?” Colby asks, his gaze wicked. He’s looking at me with a Shade-like stare and I shiver again.
Then nod.
I’m shameless.
I have no shame.
I’m going to hell.
I am chanting these things silently in my head. And when Colby strips off his shirt, I stop chanting. I can’t help it. The guy is gorgeous. And distracting.
He shrugs. “I don’t want to get tequila on my favorite t-shirt.”
Warmth instantly floods my nether-region as he presses against my side. His skin is warm and firm.
He cuts a lime wedge and places it between my teeth. Then he shakes some salt around my br**sts, concentrating quite a lot on my ni**les. And then he pours tequila into my navel. I silently thank God that I am a very meticulous belly-button washer.
My breakfast bar is the perfect height for this activity- I’m right in front of Colby’s chest. He has easy access to every part of me that he needs.
He bends and starts at my ankle, kissing and sucking and licking his way upward. When he gets to my thigh, he pays special attention, suckling very intently. Chills run up my body and fire shoots into BB. Because BB is a shameless hussy, she wants this even more than I do. And then he drags his tongue deliberately and teasingly over her.
My legs straighten out like boards as my heart starts to race.
He licks his way to my belly button, by-passing it and concentrating instead on my br**sts. He sucks every bit of salt off of each one, tantalizing me by licking, sucking and nipping at my ni**les. I am literally arching against him before he is done, but he holds me down.
“You’ll spill your tequila,” he whispers into my ear. His breath is hot against my skin.
I grip the side of the breakfast bar. I seriously do have amazing fortitude. Otherwise, I’d have abandoned this activity, leaped off this granite slap and straddled this man-boy on my kitchen floor.
But as it is, I remain still.
With a lime wedge between my teeth.
Colby makes his way down to my belly-button and as he does, his right hand finds BB. He laps at the tequila while his hand makes lazy circles around BB… and then he slides a finger into her.
I almost come off of the table.
Amazing fortitude, I chant.
Amazing f**king fortitude.
Colby drinks every drop of tequila and then slides over me back up to my mouth. His dark eyes meet mine and I am dying to feel his lips on my own… his full, luscious lips.
Finally, finally, his lips touch mine as he takes the lime wedge without using his hands. He sucks on it and then spits it to the side. I know that my housekeeper is going to want a raise tomorrow. But I don’t care tonight.