Page 24 of sWitch

Fauna’s full lips found my neck and sucked lightly as she nodded her consent. “Yes, please.”

“I really, really like making you come, Fauna,” I murmured, inching my drumstick slowly inside her. The feeling of her soft inner thighs squeezing around my forearm was enough to coax a groan from my throat.

A soft gasp pressed against my neck as Fauna slowly bucked against my drumstick. Carefully, I moved it in and out, angling the length to hit against her clit with every wicked slide.

“You like that, princess?” Her nod against the crook of my neck was frantic, and I could sense another release building.“Say that into my mouth,” I urged. “Taste how much you want me on my tongue while you come on my drumstick, princess.”

“Yes,” she murmured, finding my lips.

I pulled back before she could kiss me. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy,” she whimpered just as her thighs began to shake. The pinball machine was still singing, the neon lights of the arcade immortal in their colorful blinking, washing my sweet girl in flashes of pink, then yellow, then green, then blue. Every hue made her more beautiful than before. Maybe that was why she dressed so colorfully—there weren’t enough shades in the world to match the radiance of her spirit, her personality, her essence. Fauna wasn’t just lovely; she was brilliant. The way she came apart at my touch, shuddering another orgasm into my knuckles, was as stunning as the lights and sounds of the games around us.

Only this was a game just for a us.

A secret, a side quest, a mission doomed to fail.

Or maybe not.

Maybe, just maybe, Fauna could become mine with minimal fallout. Could I steal her out from under my twin without hurting either of them? Wishful fucking thinking on my part. But what can I say; making her come so many times was making me cocky. My dad always said arrogance was my blessing and my curse.

As usual, the old guy was probably right.

As usual, I wouldn’t heed his advice.

No, that was Trevor’s cross to bear. My twin was the perfect child, the star athlete, the honor roll kid who’d do anything to make our parents proud.

I just never gave a fuck.

And now, I was fucking his girlfriend.

The flashing lights and beeps of arcade games appeared again like the fog of our adventure clearing and revealing ourreality. After returning my drumstick to the back pocket of my jeans, I looped Fauna’s dainty panties around her ankles and over her hips. She struggled to get off the pinball machine so I picked her up gently and steadied her on the stained 80s carpet.

“You alright?” I asked. “Need anything?”

Fauna looked up at me with those big eyes that made me weak in the knees and toyed with the ribbon on her collar. “I could go for a slushie.”

“The mall is closed.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot.”

“That means no one is here to catch us.”

She giggled. “Catch us doing what? Haven’t we defiled the place enough?”

“Never,” I teased, taking her hand. “Follow me, princess.”

LEVEL 8

PLAYER TWO: FAUNA

My years workingat the animal shelter lead me to a few observations:

Most masculine folks and boys were like puppies: simple, steadfast companions. Pups and boys don’t need a lot of explanation. You fed them, pet them, took them on walks and threw tennis balls, and they’d stay by your side. Predictable, slobbery, cause and effect relationships.

Most femmes and girls were like kittens: unpredictable, with equal capacity for violence and terror as for love and tenderness. Winning the trust of a kitten was tenuous but rewarding. And just like with cats, girls could offer a quick swipe of claws under the alluring pretense of soft fur and whiskers.

Harboring these animal facts helped me in my interactions with people, oddly enough.

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