He took his mouth away, and I wanted to scream at him to kiss me again.
“Pick up the controller, Brooke,” he said. “And play your game.” Meanwhile, I’m going to play mine, is what I’m sure I heard underneath his words.
I did as I was told, but my heart was no longer in it. I didn’t care about killing bad guys when I felt Ryan’s hands glide up and down my thighs, pushing my dress around my hips. I knew he could see my panties, but for some reason I didn’t think I should say it. I thought I had only one task he’d given me, and that was to continue playing my game.
I drew in my breath sharply when I felt his fingers snake around my right thigh and between my legs. He ran them lightly over my panties, all the while watching the television screen. I knew he was watching it because he gave me some advice and a few warnings of enemies hidden in dark places.
When he slipped his fingers under the fabric of my panties, I died. Shot up in a hailstorm of gun fire. My guy didn’t have a chance.
“Try again,” Ryan cooed in my ear. He stroked me gently, refraining from slipping his finger inside of me.
“I don’t want to,” I whined softly.
“Brooklyn, try again,” he ordered, and I pressed the X on the controller.
I tried to concentrate. I thought that’s what he wanted me to do, to see how long I could go before losing myself completely to his touch. We were playing two games, competing against one another, and I knew I’d lose.
I cried out when he slipped a finger inside me, lasting only five more seconds until I was blown to bits.
“I’m really bad at this,” I said. I didn’t recognize my voice. It was deep and sultry.
“No you aren’t,” Ryan whispered, stroking me deeply until I moaned and let my head fall back on his shoulder. “No, Brooklyn. Pick up the controller and try again.”
“Ryan!” I was beyond frustrated, and I screamed that frustration when he took his hand away.
“Play your game, Brooklyn,” he insisted, shifting behind me. Only then did I notice his hard-on. I shivered with anticipation.
I reluctantly started another game, and almost immediately, Ryan’s hand was in between my legs once more, touching, exploring, probing. I was aching for release, and he knew it. The longer he played with my body, the worse I got at the stupid video game. I felt the pleasure swirl around the insides of my thighs and my stomach. I knew it was coming. But I also knew I would hover on the edge of my orgasm indefinitely if I didn’t concentrate on Ryan’s touch. My brain couldn’t stay split in two between his hand and my game.
The explosion was nearly there, so I focused on what was happening between my legs instead of the TV screen. When he finally released me, I screamed something between pleasure and agony, my finger permanently pressed on the button that made my guy fire incessant shots until his ammo ran out and he surrendered to the enemy.
I lay back against Ryan’s chest, my head heavy on his shoulder. I was sweating and shaking from the aftermath. I’d never come like that. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure how I sounded when he brought me over the edge, and suddenly I felt self-conscious.
“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Ryan said. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, and while I couldn’t see him, I knew he was tasting me. My self-consciousness multiplied tenfold. Did he like it?
“I’m embarrassed,” I admitted.
“Why?”
“Because I think I sounded crazy,” I said.
“No. Not crazy. Perfect.” He planted a gentle kiss on my cheek. “And you taste delicious, by the way. Scrumptious, really.”
And just like that, my self-consciousness disappeared. I sat up and turned around, pulling my legs up under me. “Scrumptious, you say?”
Ryan nodded, his blue eyes soft and glassy. Content.
“I think I like playing video games,” I said.
“Oh, you do, huh?” he asked.
I nodded, looking down at his lap then back up at his face.
“I think you should play this next round,” I suggested. My hands went to his belt buckle.
He shook his head. I furrowed my brows, confused.
“You’re new at video games, Brooke,” Ryan said. “Let’s just take it little by little.”
I thought for a moment.
“Yeah, but doesn’t practice make perfect?” I asked.
“In small doses.”
Twelve
“Holy shit!” Gretchen screamed into the phone.
I grinned, lying on my bed in a dreamy state, staring at the ceiling. My popcorn ceiling, and I thought it was the most beautiful ceiling in the world.
“Brooke, why on earth didn’t you guys have sex?” she asked.
“He said we weren’t ready,” I replied, the silly smile still plastered on my face.
“What? Does he think you’re a virgin or something?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care,” I replied. I had been in a continuous euphoric state since yesterday afternoon. My dad noticed last night over dinner, and asked me if I was dating Ryan.