Page 66 of Unsteady

Here. With me.

“Happy birthday, hotshot,” she says, but there’s an apologetic tinge to her usually fiery taunt. It chips away at the lingering resentment until I want to toss her on the bed and shove that silk up to her stomach.

I wonder if she notices it’shermusic playing soft and low through my surround sound, The Neighbourhood crooning “A Little Death” in the background of this fantasy come to life.

“Thanks.” I smile, genuine and small, following past her to sit on the bed. She’s just a smidge taller than me like this, the heels of her boots—black leather I’ll be unable to get out of my fucking head from now on—giving her the added height. She steps between my legs, hand held behind her back with a little pouch that I saw her pull from the pocket of her jacket.

“I got you something.”

Her other hand grabs mine from my thigh, before dropping the pouch into my hand. I pull on the ribbon to open the plastic, dumping the contents into my palm.

A black hockey puck, and a stretchy bracelet. I squeeze the hockey puck in my palm, watching it give and release.

“It’s, um… a stress ball. Like, you squeeze it and it helps distract your thoughts or center them? My brother has one, and it helps his anxiety,” she says, shrugging and tucking her hair back again.

“That’s… that’s really nice,” I say, feeling lame as the words leave my lips. It’s more than that. It’severything. It’s a piece of me that only she holds the key to. It’s the acceptance of me as I am, by the only person that matters right now. “And the bracelet?”

She giggles as I pull the blue and gray beaded bracelet up to inspect it, where little block letter beads spell outhotshot.

A laugh bursts from me and I slide it on immediately.

“It’s a joke.”

Not to me, I want to say. I’ll never take it off.

Instead, I wrap her in my arms and tug her down into my lap with a groan.

“Time for me to show my thanks, yeah?” I ask, breathing lightly into her ear and pressing kisses just beneath it. “Lay back.”

She shoves off me too fast, and I grapple for her, but she escapes my hands.

“Take off your pants.”

I’m standing before I can even think about it, looking at her as she lazily leans back on her elbows on the bed. Her, just like this, with the thin little strap drooping off her freckled shoulder, pulling the gray fabric enough that I’m close to getting a glimpse of her pert, pink nipple.

My mouth waters as she reaches up and pulls all her hair high on her head, cooling her neck, before letting the dark strands spill across her skin.

I shove my jeans to my ankles, stepping out of them without tripping as I refuse to take my eyes off her for one second. Her hands only hesitate once, her fingers curl into the top of my boxer briefs and she looks up at me for assurance.

I nod like a fucking bobble head, groaning as she pulls them down to stretch over my thighs and free my dick.

“Oh.” She breathes, her face so close I can feel it. My hips flex involuntarily, and she stutters the movement as her hand grasps me at the base.

“You’re… very big.” She blushes, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her look at all intimidated.

I’m not small, but she’s a foot shorter than me and so small, she’s making me look huge in her little hand. Too delirious to speak, I just nod.

“I’ve never—I mean; the guys I’ve been with—”

My hand grips her chin hard, jealousy boiling in my gut at the suggestion.

“Finish that sentence, I dare you. I guarantee it’ll be you on your knees this time, not me.”

The mild threat and my hard grip seem to wake her from her shyness.

She bites her lip and sinks to her knees in front of me with a sultry smile.

“You’re acting like that wasn’t the plan all along.”

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