The Plight Before Christmas(106)
“Were you thinking about our first time the other night?”
“You know I was. I’ll be replaying our whole relationship differently.”
“I know, and I’ll answer anything you want to ask.” He presses a reassuring kiss to my lips. “I promise.”
Drawing my nipple into his mouth, he reaches down and grabs his phone from the floor. Nipple peaking, I ready myself for another round just as he pulls back, a flash of blue light filling the room before he springs from the mattress.
“Shit! It’s one-thirty! We so did not have twenty minutes!” His entire demeanor shifts as he begins to dress frantically, his leg halfway in his pants as he tosses a finger toward the doorway. “Baby, you gotta go!”
“What?” I laugh, raising to my elbows, dazed, and drunk on orgasms. “Why?”
“Why? Your entire family is about to pull up! Shit, we’ve got like five minutes, tops.” He pulls his head through the neck of his T-shirt and pauses. “Text your sister and see how close they are.” He perks his ears and stills. “Is that a car?” His eyes flit to mine. “Whitney! Get dressed!”
“It’s not like they’re going to come in here. They’ll probably head straight to bed.”
“You don’t know that!” He says, his face filled with panic.
“Okay, okay, I’m going.” I slide my panties on and pull on my pajamas as he sniffs the air like a cartoon dog. “Oh my God. It smells like straight-up fucking in here!”
He scrambles out of the den and into the kitchen as my laughter follows him while I pull on my shirt. Eli comes back in, unloading a can of Pledge, his trigger finger happy as he clouds the room with it, some of the spray hitting my mouth.
“Eli!” I screech, waving the cloud away from me. “You think they’re going to believe we’ve been dusting at one-thirty in the morning?”
“Shit.” He immediately stops spraying, fear in his eyes. “What covers up the smell of Pledge?”
“Nothing,” I laugh as he cants his head to the side. “Is that a car? Is that them?!”
“No,” I chuckle as he looks at me sternly and points his finger toward the living room. “Leave, immediately.”
“What is wrong with you?”
“I don’t want them to know!” The boom in his voice has me jumping. “Wait,” he grips my wrist. “I have an idea.”
He races back into the kitchen and rushes back in, a rag in his hand as he holds it out to me. “Dust.”
“What?”
“Dust, go dust,” he orders, “or pretend to,” he waves his hand dismissively before turning me toward the doorway, his palms on my shoulders. “You’re thoughtful like that. It’s not so far-fetched. When your Mom comes in, pretend you’re tidying up for her. It’s believable. I’ll play like I’m asleep.”
“Have you lost your mind?” I toss over my shoulder.
“Yes. And it’s your pussy’s fault. Now go.”
“I am not dusting, Eli.”
“Please, don’t argue with me right now,” he whimpers. “I don’t want your Dad to know that while he was worshiping his lord and savior, I was defiling his daughter. Please just…dust.”
I try to stop and turn back to him, but he continues to push me out of the room, my elf slippers sliding on the hardwood.
When I’m a safe distance away from the den, he releases me, and I look back at him. “Their opinion really matters to you, doesn’t it?”
“I want my place at the table.”
“What?”
“I don’t have time to explain!” He screeches.
“Are you having a panic attack?” I ask, concerned.
“I will be if you don’t start dusting!”
His eyes bulge. “I know I’m acting like a lunatic, but I do care. I care a lot.”
“Okay,” I say, trying my hardest not to laugh and failing. “Crazy ass man.”
“Crazy about you,” he says before turning and darting back into the den.
“Well, our relationship is off to a great start,” I call out, shaking my head and buffing the table next to the couch. “You just kicked me out of bed after sex, and now you’re ordering me around like the help.”
“Special circumstances,” he fires back, “I’ll make it up to you.”
I hear the rustling behind me, knowing Eli is fluffing his sheets before he flips the switch to put more air in the mattress. The motor cuts off a minute later, and the house goes eerily quiet until…
“Whitney,” Eli whisper shouts from the mattress as if we aren’t alone in the house.
“Yes?”
“That was fire.”
“Thanks?” I say, unable to help my laugh.
I can feel his smile even though I can’t see it.
“I’m already hard for you again…Was that a car?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“Oh, shit, Whit. Fix your hair!”
“What?”
“Fix your Mufasa hair!” He belts out in panic. “Or Peyton will point it out!”
“My God, fine.” Hastily, I run my fingers through my hair and double-check my clothes. The man is making me paranoid. Not that I want my parents to know I just had more orgasms than I have toes. I tighten my robe cringing at the thought. Yeah, no.