Chapter 5
AN: Thanks for the reviews and for reading this story. There's a lot more to this ride coming up...
Now came the part of the evening Derek knew would be the most difficult thing that would happen between them…
"Chicken and jalapeño?" she asked, giving him a curious look.
They always had the hardest time deciding what kind of pizza to get. There were too many varieties to try, too many combinations they really enjoyed eating together. This was going to be an undertaking that would take a good twenty minutes.
Chicken and jalapeño had been the latest kick. It used barbecue sauce, instead of tomato sauce, and was damned tasty, but he wasn't in the mood for that at the moment.
"No, not that one," he answered.
"Canadian bacon and pineapple?" she asked hopefully.
He laughed; she knew he'd never say yes to that one. It was frou-frou, as far as pizzas were concerned. Pizzas, in his book, should never contain fruit.
She sighed heavily with a pout. "Never mind."
He'd known that adorable pout was coming, too, and she knew he was helpless against it. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her into his embrace. She felt so warm and soft against him, and her head tucked perfectly under his chin. She was a nice fit for him—had always been a very nice fit.
He kissed the top of her head and said in a long-suffering tone, "Oh, fine, then. Go ahead and order that thing."
"No, no, no...I can deal."
"Baby..."
She giggled, extracting herself from his arms. "I really just wanted to see if I still had you wrapped around my finger."
As she turned, he slapped her butt. It jiggled just a bit, the way a girl's ass was supposed to jiggle. She had one fine ass…
"Little shit," he growled, his voice just a touch huskier from his thoughts.
She jumped away and covered her posterior with both hands. "You're just upset because it's true…"
He shook his head, chuckling to himself...
Yeah, it was true.
Penelope wandered into the kitchen to call for a pizza, and Derek immediately shifted in his seat. He sighed with relief. His pants were getting kind of tight. He thought he might have to go into the bathroom and adjust.
Sitting amongst the wonderland of sex toys spread out in front of him had him thinking dirty thoughts. Really, really dirty thoughts. Hell, they were downright filthy.
Great…Now he was miserably hard.
Three things made him like this. First thing was the blatant flirting he'd done with Penelope. That was damned stupid. He didn't need to challenge her—he had known she'd rise to the challenge, and that he would rise, too—but he'd done it anyway. That had gotten him thinking about her in a way he hadn't in a long time.
Second was the sex toys and the rum. The rum was hitting him hard, since he had an empty stomach, and he always turned utterly horny when he drank. Combine that with the stimulating subject matter they were discussing, and his penis leaped to an even more alert state.
But the worst was the third thing. Penelope holding the dildos, gripping them in her hands with those ten terrific fingers…
Fuck.
He was doomed.
Flinging a pillow off the couch so he could sink back even deeper into the cushions and get more comfortable, he scoffed in disgust. He needed to get it together. She was his best friend; he shouldn't be thinking about her in that way.
Not that he hadn't in the past—he had, numerous times, if he were being honest with himself—but it seemed really wrong to do it in this context. She wanted his help; she didn't want him to jump her bones.
His prick seemed to think differently.
This was ridiculous. He was not an untried teenager; he was a grown man…who hadn't been laid in a very long time.
Sighing, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath...and pictured her on her knees, swirling that terrific tongue in that perfect spot just under—
"Last chance, baby boy. Veggie, or sausage?"
His eyes flew open when he heard her shout from the kitchen.
"Sausage," he said, and then groaned, because he really wanted veggie.
For some reason, sausage was on his mind.
"P, I'm going to the bathroom," he called out, and started heading for the can…but not before his wayward eyes snuck a peak at the pile of lubricants.
He growled to himself. He was NOT doing that. Hell, no.
Grumbling under his breath, he stomped to the bathroom.
A half hour later, they were eating pizza and drinking rum and cokes. When she went back into the living room, she noticed that Derek had slammed the last one he'd just poured.
Before the pizza had arrived, he'd looked somewhat drunk, and rather grumpy. She'd asked him what the problem was, and he'd blamed it on being hungry. She could buy that; he was usually a bear when he was hungry.
Derek was easy to figure out. He needed the basics in a male's life: sunshine, exercise, air, beer, and food. And sex. Lots and lots of sex.
Preferably with her.
Penelope almost choked on the piece of pizza she was chewing. God, she was thinking about that again. She needed to stop putting him in that role. That was not where this was going. He was her friend, a helpful friend; she didn't need to think about attacking him.
It was the rum. She was always hornier when she drank. Add that to not having had sex for quite awhile, and it added up to a volatile situation. She'd probably jump Reid if he were here.
She shuddered. Reid was like her baby brother; she knew there was no chance she'd ever jump him.
Derek, on the other hand, had never, ever, been sibling material.
"This is so good," Derek said, chewing his third piece of pizza. It was the first thing either of them had said after the pizza had been delivered. The room was kind of tomblike, which was odd for them.
"Really nummy," she mumbled, and then it was dead silent again.
She wasn't that hungry anymore, either. She had stuffed herself, suddenly ravenous when the pizza had arrived, and now she felt bloated…and still very horny.
She needed to get her mind off of that immediately.
Putting her plate aside, she announced, "Time to get back to work."
"I'm still eating," he grumbled.
"You eat, I'll sort."
The next items on the pile were these lifelike, rubber penises. Some were colorful, but others were really lifelike. One had a suction cup on the bottom. She picked it up and looked at it, confused.
"Why the suction cup?" she asked him.
Laughing, he said, "What do you think it's for?"
She blinked at him. "I have ideas, but that seems kind of silly."
He shook his head. "Woman, for a perpetually dirty mind, you are far too innocent sometimes."
She frowned at him. "What?"
"Did your idea include sticking it to some surface, so it doesn't slide around if you decide to ride it like you're busting a bronco?"
She felt her face heat to scalding in a heartbeat.
"Not quite," she said. She put it down quickly, and then picked up another one that drew her interest.
This one was made by a master sculptor, someone who loved penises almost as much as she did. The material felt very lifelike, like velvety skin covering steel hardness. There was a perfectly flared, mushrooming head, with a ridge underneath that she ran her thumb over. The shaft was beautifully designed, so thick and gorgeous, covered with a few veins that almost looked like they could pulsate with life. There was even a wrinkled sac underneath that matched perfectly.
She couldn't help it; she stroked her hand up and down over it, sliding from the crown, until she was just touching the molded balls.
"P, I really need to go," Derek said suddenly, putting aside the pizza box. "I forgot something really important."
"Need me to drive?" She frowned and put aside the toy. "Are you drunk, still?"
"Hell, no," he said, sliding his shoes on. "Takes a lot more than that to make me drunk. I just need to go."
"Okay," she said, looking a little confused. She rose to her feet and walked over to him. "Bye, honey."
Pulling her into his arms, he held her close. She could smell the spicy sausage and the warmth of rum on his breath.
He looked at her, his eyes dark and unreadable, and then he leaned down, giving her a kiss near her lips on her right cheek.
And then he was out the door, without a look backwards.