Page 80 of Love Me Like It's Real
“What?” I insist.
“Nothing,” he repeats and snatches the bag of candy out of the bag and a bottle of water and leans back in the chair.
I wonder what that’s about. Does he think I’m immature, or something? Or does he think it’s ridiculous that a grown man is indulging in so much junk food?
No matter what it is it doesn’t look like he's in a very sharing mood so instead of brooding over it, I grab the M&Ms and sit back too, which turns out to be perfect timing as the lights go down and the screen lights up.
“Strange. No one’s here yet.” I look around to see if I’ve missed anyone, but nothing. The theater is as empty as anything.
“Your marathon is very popular,” Felix chuckles.
I roll my eyes at him. “I’m sure they’re running late.”
“Sure.” He smirks and I want to smudge that sarcasm off his face with my lips and perhaps a little hair-pulling domination butWhen Harry Met Sallycomes on so I abandon my errant thoughts and turn my attention to the romcom that’s captivated an entire generation.
“I have to admit,” he says. “It’s funny with the horror music. Definitely changes the mood.”
Harry and Sally share a ride and the longer the scene goes on, the more the camera focuses on Billy Crystal’s serial killer eyes and the more the horror music intensifies until it drowns out their conversation.
“Damn right. It sets the right mood. It was a labor of love making these edits and I’m damn proud of them,” I say. “You see, everyone from the writer to the director to the actors try to convince us this movie is a romance for the ages, like most romcom producers, but it’s just a relationship doomed to fail like all relationships. Did you know the screenwriter initially wasn’t going to get them together in the end but changed it because she wanted to give people hope? I think that says it all, don’t you think?”
“Oh really?” he asks and shifts in his seat, getting more comfortable, and pops a fizzy cherry candy in his mouth. “Whatdoesit say?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I huff. “It says love isn’t real but you’ve got to feed the hope of love to people or else they’ll realize they’re wasting their time and do something more productive with their time.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
He crosses his legs and rubs his foot up and down my calf and I turn to face him, giving him more access to my leg. He takes his shoe off and pushes his foot up to my thigh, making a frog form in my throat.
“I…I don’t…like…more productive things like sex,” I tell him.
He raises his eyebrows and smiles, dropping the candy to the seat on the other side of him and plants both feet on the floor as he buries his hand between my legs. He focuses on massaging my thighs but the back of his palm rubs my balls, though even if it didn’t, I’d still go rock-hard in an instant.
One would think I’m sex-starved the way my body reacts to his touch but I can’t help it. Every time I’m around him I crave his attention.
“Hmm…” he says. “Yeah, I can see how this is more…productive,” he all but moans.
It rushes through me making me throb and alert at the same time and I snap my head around to check the theater is still empty and Felix chuckles, pulling his hand back.
“Don’t worry. It’s still dead in here,” he says.
I turn to him, unable to control the fire raging inside me. A fire he’s started. “I guess there are benefits to no one being here,” I tell him. “It means I can do this…” I get down on my knees, crawl between his legs and grab the waistband of his jeans.
“Oh, you most certainly can,” he purrs and lifts his butt off the seat so I can pull his pants off enough to give me access to the most decadent and sweet delight there ever was.
“I was going to get ice cream,” I tell him. I flick my tongue over his cock then once more over to lick his hole and the hum of pleasure I let out travels across my body and puts me right back on the edge like I was this morning before I met him. “But this is so much tastier.”
“Really?” he croaks. “Then maybe I should package it up and start selling it.”
A rumble, both loud and possessive bursts out of me and Felix moans, pushing his head back, and rolls his eyes.
“I quite like it just for me,” I tell him and get back to business.
Where did that come from? What the hell was that about? Since when do I claim sole rights to anyone’s body? And why does the thought of sharing him make my chest ache?
TWENTY-FOUR
FELIX
