Starfire (Erotic Romance) (Peaches Monroe) (25 page)

I laughed, and Adrian looped his arm around my shoulders as we walked up the street. “My car is this way,” he said.

“You mean your mom’s car.”

His eyes went to my gold watch.

My words hung in the air, and I instantly realized I’d said the wrong thing.

He was quiet, looking down as we walked under the glow of a streetlamp, our shadow becoming squat, then stretching out.

“I was just kidding,” I said. “I don’t care that you borrow your mom’s car, or live with your parents. I just say dumb things, all the time. It’s kind of my thing.”

“You know, I won’t be poor forever. I’m taking a break right now to get some perspective. When I get out there again, I’ll have experience, as well as the wisdom from losing everything once.”

“Out there? Do you mean you won’t stay in Beaverdale?”

He snorted. “Why would I stay?”

“Hmm.” I didn’t explain further, but just let his idiot question hang in the air until it came to him.

After a moment, he said, “Of course you’d go with me.”

“And knock around in some giant, empty house while you work yourself into the ground?”

“Wow, Peaches. Since you have a crystal ball and everything, would you mind grabbing us some winning lottery numbers while you’re at it?”

We got to the car, and he held the passenger door open for me.

I looked up at the starry sky. “Maybe I’d rather walk home.”

“It’s past eleven. Just get in the car, and please don’t be mad at me for not including you in my imaginary future.” He grabbed me in a hug and nuzzled my neck as he tickled my sides. “I want you in my future. You know I want you. I tell you every time I see you, how crazy you make me.”

I giggled as he kept nuzzling my neck.

“Ooh, I want you, I want you,” he growled.

“Okay, okay!” I pushed him away and got in the car.

He got in and started driving us back to my house.

We didn’t talk much on the short drive, and when he walked me up to the porch, I couldn’t tell if he expected an invitation inside, or just hoped for one.

He stopped on the second-to-last step for the porch, so we were nearly eye to eye. He brushed my hair aside and dove for my neck.

“You can’t sleep over,” I said as he kissed my neck under my ear, where his lips felt so good.

“We won’t sleep,” he growled.

I bit my lower lip, trying to think of the proper thing to say. I’d never dated anyone seriously enough to have to tell them to take a hike because I had my period. (Yes, it had come earlier that day, phew!)

“I’ve got cramps,” I said, even though the ones from earlier that day had subsided.

He looked confused. “From the pasta?” His eyes moved back and forth, the old hamsters turning the wheels of Girl Translation in his brain. “Oh!” he said, finally. “We could just cuddle.”

I clasped him on both sides of his face and looked him directly in the eyes, enjoying this rare moment of us being equal heights. “Adrian, you are the sweetest part-time, shared boyfriend a girl could have.”

He moved in closer, and instead of kissing me, he rubbed the tip of his nose on mine.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, and he left.

The house door behind me swung open so suddenly, I jumped in surprise.

Shayla stood in the door, looking furious. “Young lady, get in this house immediately.”

“Oh, fuck.” I hung my head and marched right in. My first guess was Adrian wasn’t the only one who’d read about my engagement on the internet.

“Engaged?” she said as soon as we were inside the house.

I was right! Unfortunately, I was also in trouble.

“Ugh. Famous people can’t get away with shit, can they? Ha ha. It’s funny because I’m pretending I’m famous. But I’m not.”

“Does Adrian know?” she asked.

“Strangely enough, yes.”

She uncrossed her arms, her whole demeanor relaxing. “Oh. Then I guess I’m not that pissed after all.” She sat on the couch and patted the seat next to her. “Tell me everything.”

I told her to hang on while I ran upstairs for a pee, then I came back down, sat on the couch, and told her everything. And by everything, I mean that I sorta fibbed and told her some of the details, but not all of them.

She was confused, not quite understanding why Dalton and I were getting married, but I was still seeing Adrian. Part of the NDA was that I couldn’t talk about the terms of the NDA with anyone. I made it seem like I was engaged to Dalton because we were friendly, and I wanted to help. It was true, even if it wasn’t the whole truth.

When I looked over at the clock on the TV equipment, it was nearly one in the morning.

Shayla blinked at me, her expression incredulous.

Speaking slowly, she said, “So, this fluid just comes shooting out of your vagina?”

“Seriously, that is the particular detail of my story that you’re focusing on?”

“Your pussy has superpowers.” She tilted her head to the side, her eyes lighting up. “Maybe it’s a Monroe family trait! Maybe I can shoot stuff out of mine.”

“My pussy isn’t Spider-Man.”

She pulled out her phone. “I gotta look this up. Hmm. Squirting. Is that female ejaculation? Ew. I don’t like that word at all.”

I swatted the phone out of her hand and stuffed it between the couch cushions. “Focus, Shayla. What should I do? Keep dating Adrian, or try to have a normal relationship with Dalton?”

She laughed. “Normal? Not with porno boy.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“I don’t know.” She looked up at the ceiling, her brow wrinkled. “If you do this thing with Dalton, you’ll be in LA a lot, and you won’t be able to spend as much time with me. Do you think I’ve been anti-Dalton just because I love you so fucking much and don’t want to lose you?”

I swallowed hard. Damn my period hormones for making me feel like I was on the verge of tears all day.

She continued, “Or, deep down, am I envious of all the good things happening for you, because even though I love you, I am still a petty monster at times? I mean… how can I possibly think I’m a good judge of character? I was fucking my no-good cheating boss for how many months? It’s not like I’m the queen of great decisions. Wow, I can’t believe how self-aware I’m sounding right now. There you have it, though. I’m a disaster, so any advice I might have about your love life should come with one of those warnings. You know, like they run on those advertisements for the phone numbers you call to get a psychic to tell your fortune. Entertainment purposes only. That’s me. Entertainment purposes only.”

And with that, she withdrew a box of cigarettes from somewhere and started for the front door.

I followed her out to the porch and sat beside her on the bench as she smoked. We stayed there for twenty minutes, with nothing but the sound of the moths overhead, banging themselves into the porch light, mistaking it for the moon.

~

Eventually, Shayla and I got chilly enough and went back into the house.

Upstairs in the bathroom, as we were brushing our teeth for bed, I asked, “How are things going with… um…”

“Troy?” Shayla’s golden brown eyes burned like the embers in a fire.

We were both framed in the mirror over the sink, two cousins with similar body and face shapes, except she wears a size or two smaller than me on the bottom, and bigger on the top. She got the bigger boobs and I got the junk for the trunk, but together we’re the perfect woman, part blonde and part brunette.

“You tell me how things are going with Troy,” she said, her eyebrow quirking up dramatically. “He gave me seven orgasms on Saturday.”

“Beats the hell out of chocolates or flowers.”

“And now he’s going.” She spat her toothpaste in the sink and rinsed her mouth. “His mommy and daddy rented a house off campus, for him and a friend. A nice house. He said I could visit, but I knew he didn’t mean it. He’ll be knee deep in college-girl pussy before Thanksgiving.”

“So, now what?”

“Living vicariously through you, plus maybe a new set of batteries for the Assassin.”

“I thought the Assassin came with a charger?”

“New batteries is just an expression.”

I rolled out some dental floss and started on my back molars. After a moment, I asked, “Do you think anything weird would happen if you didn’t orgasm for, like, a long time? Do you think all that energy would go into other things?”

“Yes. The energy goes into eating Bugles from the box and cackling like a witch as you stick them on your fingertips like pointy little claws. That’s what I was doing before you got home tonight.”

“You ate all the Bugles?”

“I put them on the grocery list.”

“We should eat more kale.”

She stared at me in the mirror until we both cracked up laughing.

When she finished laughing, Shayla said, “But seriously, what are you going to do about this Adrian-Dalton love triangle thing?”

“Ignore the problem and hope it goes away?”

“You’re not going to like my advice. In fact, you’re going to hate it.”

“Break up with Dalton?”

She pointed her finger at me, via the mirror, then turned to face me and point directly at me.

“I totally got you,” she squealed. “I was bluffing. I said you’d hate my advice, then you revealed that the guy you
really
want is Dalton. Reverse psychology, boo-yah! I knew those college psych courses would pay off some day.”

“Or maybe I was just guessing what you’d say, given you’re Team Adrian. Reverse-reversed, boo-yah yourself.”

“My work here is done.” She clapped her hands together in a dusting-off motion and left the bathroom for bed.

My phone buzzed with an incoming message, but I don’t ever take my phone out inside the bathroom, because of my irrational fear* that if I check messages while sitting on the toilet, the camera feature will suddenly switch on and send a video feed to everyone on my contacts list.

*This irrational fear is unusual, but no more weird than my mother’s. She won’t store the milk directly under the light bulb inside the fridge, because she worries the light bulb will come on while the door’s closed, and the heat will spoil the milk.

I finished getting ready for the night and climbed into my bed.

I had an incoming text message from Adrian:
Are you still up?

Me:
I’m in bed, but I’m awake, obviously.

Adrian:
I can’t sleep.

CHAPTER 24

Me:
Have you tried counting sheep?

Adrian:
Not yet.

Me:
Hey, have you ever noticed that people don’t suggest masturbating as a cure for insomnia? Unless you think that’s what people mean by counting sheep?

Adrian:
Hmm.

Me:
Do you actually have insomnia, or are you looking for an excuse to get a photo of my other nipple, so you have a matching set?

Adrian:
I’m going to start “counting sheep” right now.

Me:
Oh! Oh, baby. You’re so hard. Look how big and hard you are.

Adrian:
More.

Me:
My mouth is all wet and I’m licking my lips. I want to put your long, hard cock in my mouth.

Adrian:
And?

Me:
Your cock is in my mouth right now, and I’m sucking your thunderstick so hard it’s turning purple.

Adrian:
Ow.

Me:
Now I’m being gentle. So soft and gentle, like a feather. I’m just tickling around the head with the tip of my tongue. Around and around with soft, gentle licks. Then I’m sucking hard again, but not too hard this time.

Adrian:
Ah.

Me:
Now I’m sliding you in and out of my hot, juicy mouth. I’m so hot for you. Where do you want to come? Do you want to come in my mouth?

Adrian:
Tits.

Me:
You dirty boy! I’m still sucking your cock, and I’m also unlacing myself out of this really tight corset. It’s such a pretty corset, covered in lace and pearls, but I need to get it off because you’re going to give me the real pearls. A pearl necklace.

Adrian:
Yes.

Me:
Now I’m sucking your cock, and I’m also rubbing my breasts with my hands. I’m squeezing my big, gorgeous tits, and I feel like I’m going to burst. Are you ready?

Adrian:
Yes.

Me:
I can’t wait anymore! Your cock is going to burst. I’m taking it out of my mouth, and it’s all glistening and wet. Now I’m lying on my back, my big breasts ready to receive your present. I’m stroking your cock with my hand to make you come.

Adrian:
Now.

Me:
And now it’s coming out like a big jetstream of beautiful pearls, all over my breasts! Oh, oh, I’m coming, too! I’m writhing around on the bed, and your pearls are on my chest and my neck and my face. Some went in my mouth and they taste so good and they’re making me come. Seven times!

Adrian:
Wow.

Me:
Are we still going?

I didn’t get a message for about a minute.

Adrian:
Okay. I have counted sheep.

Me:
Do you feel sleepy now?

Adrian:
I wish you were here with me.

Me:
Get some rest. Tomorrow’s a big day.

He replied with a cartoon kiss picture.

I did the same and said goodnight.

Then I tucked my phone away carefully inside my purse, slipped my hand under the blankets, and rubbed one out in about two seconds flat.

~

Tuesday morning, I met Adrian at the store, where he was friendly, but all business. No mention was made of pearl necklaces or thundersticks.

We began the big move of Peachtree Books, and, even though I’m more than capable of lugging around heavy boxes and dismantling bookshelves, I played the Girl Card and let the big, burly movers do most of the lifting. Gordon Oliver Junior was there with his clipboard, and Adrian had his tool belt on, so I jotted down coffee and muffin orders, then went back and forth between Peachtree and Java Jones.