CASUAL AFFAIR; brendon urie

Chapter Twenty

My heart pounded so hard I actually worried it would break my ribs, as I wove my fingers through his hair, and hooked one leg around his waist. It seemed like the right, female, femme thing to do.

"How the fuck is this happening again?" the way Brendon said it was like it was an actual question.

"I don't know." I was asking myself the exact same thing. "But shut up." my other hand slid inside his coat's collar, down the back of his neck, and he jolted a little and cursed. "Sorry," the word was muffled and distorted against my mouth, the harshness of the kiss. "You've got cold hands."

Well warm them up, I thought. Warm me up, starting right here, as we are, now.

His tongue and lips tasted and burned like the fine amber colored brandy Jessa and I had stolen from my dad's personal liquor cabinet when we were fifteen. Only now, I could appreciate the bittersweetness.

"Warm enough yet?" his lips were away from mine for a small time, as he grinned at me.

"How'd you read my mind?" I said half with wonder, half with genuine curiosity to what his answer would be.

"Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you aren't so hard to figure out after all." he pressed his forehead to mine, lightly, before pressing his lips back against mine, our noses brushing.

"Oh, I beg to differ," my lips curved into one of those ridiculous smiles.

Brendon's hands wrapped around the exposed skin of my back, the spot where my spine met my pelvis. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," I removed one hand from his neck, still keeping it under his collar, and moved it around to his shoulder, which I gripped tightly. "I'm very hard-" It only took a second for Brendon's mind to make dirty, and I clapped a hand onto my mouth. "Asshole," I muttered, when the blush felt like it wasn't so burning, smacking the shoulder that I'd held moments ago. "I meant hard to figure out. I'm very hard to figure out."

"Deeper than the Grand Canyon." he suddenly took my hand as it went to his shoulder again - to hold, or to hit, I hadn't made my mind up - and used it to pull me roughly even further into him, and I was acutely aware of the layer of clothes between or chests. Buttons, cotton, wool, and underwire. Not much, but far too much for my liking.

And then Brendon's fingers plucked at my hemline, the weave of the stitch there, and I obligingly raised my arms in the air. It landed somewhere at his feet with a soft little thump.

My fingers were oddly calm as I took each button of his coat and pushed each one free, despite the jittery feeling I had in each joint and limb. When his coat fell down, I ran my hands down the white t-shirt that almost - but not quite - hugged his torso. But he stopped me as I took the bottom of it in my fist, ready to yank, pointing fingers and thumbs making contact as he encircled my wrists.

And the wicked half grin he gave me made my heart pound all the harder.

"What's the rush?" his lips skimmed up, across my cheekbone, to my ear. "Can't we just ... Fool around a little, first?" he took the helix of my ear between his teeth.

It wasn't much of a question. "Fooling around is ... Good." I nodded slowly, trying not to melt all over as his nose nuzzled into my hair, teeth teasing as he tugged a little.

And then, as he moved his mouth down, to ... Oh, Jesus, the very pressure point he'd traced with his fingertips just over a week ago, and he ... He began to suck it.

Fooling around was gonna be a lot harder than what I thought I'd agreed to.

"Florrie, Florrie, Florrie." he sang when he considered himself finished, his damage done. And then he used his grip of my wrists to push backward, lay my torso over the counter, but not before he asked my permission to do so.