Page 32 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
And a good timeiswhat I’m known for, after all.
Decision made, I whip off my shirt, nearly blinding him with the fabric.
It’s like waving a red flag at a charging bull.
Vance backs me up against the bureau, hands sliding into the back waistband of my jeans, grabbing my ass, going from zero to hero in a second flat.
Not to be left behind, I grab his dick and pump, enjoying his hard grunt.
Yeah, friends with bennies is a great idea.
Vance drops to his knees and with one hard tug takes my pants with him. He stays down to pull my ankles out, kissing the tops of my thighs as he does.
“All right, old man, you win this argument.” I funnel my fingers through his hair and bring his mouth closer to where I need it. “Now make it worth my while.”
And he does.
Vance
“You’re very good at that.”
“What?” Rose’s eyes never leave her phone, her thumbs flying. She’s been on her phone for the past fifteen minutes, while I lay in postcoital bliss.
“Ignoring me.”
She snorts, still not looking at me. “Aw, is the poor little astronaut feeling neglected?”
Even her baby talk is a turn-on.
I roll over, trailing my fingers up her thigh. “Maybe.”
It’s a sad state of affairs when after a round of early morning sex to celebrate our new friends-with-bennies relationship at my apartment, and another fun sexcapade after I drove her home to her penthouse, that I’m pouting over her obvious disregard for my presence. I should be happy she’s so unattached. In fact, I should be driving home right now congratulating myself on this epic turn of events.
Instead, I’m looking around the room with a frown. This doesn’t seem like a room Rose would live in. I mean, it’s huge and luxurious, as any penthouse apartment would be. But even with all the fancy furniture and décor, it feels kind of empty.
The only thing that seems like Rose is an impressive floor-to-ceiling bookcase stocked with romance novels and pictures of her and her friends. Dead center is a gold framed photo of Jules, Trish and Rose in their bridesmaid dresses on either side of Jackie in her wedding dress.
Everything else in the room and what I saw of the apartment looks straight out of a rich and famous interior design book.
I tap her with my foot under the covers. “Did you read all those?”
Rose’s thumbs stop so her index finger can scroll. “No, I just have them for show.”
Her sarcasm is not lost on me.
I nudge her again.
Sighing, she drops her phone and turns to me, her shoulder against the stack of pillows propping her up. “Yes?”
“What are you working on, anyway?”
“My thesis.” No smile to tell me she’s joking.
“Thesis?”
“Yeah, remember?” She quirks an eyebrow. “You’re banging a co-ed.” She turns back to her phone.
I try and cover my shock with a joke. “Must be going senile in my old age.” I hadn’t really thought of Rose as the studious type. Which makes me a dick.
