"Um, what do you want? It's a little late for breakfast, but I know how much you like Belgian waffles." My stomach gurgled. Sherlock laughed as I flopped over on my back and looked up. He smiled down at me, all ruffled and scrambled from last night. As he picked up the phone next to the bed, my stomach gurgled again.
"Ordering room service?" he asked, rubbing his traitor of a belly. "I think I'll pass since I have all the room service I need right here." He rolled into me and bit my forearm.
"Ouch! Not my arm! You gotta eat, but, um-m, not me. At least not that part of me. Not now."
He threw the covers up over his head and rolled on top of me. I knew if I didn't relent, he'd keep insisting.
"Damn it..." I sighed. "You're so thin those pointy hip bones are bruising my physique."
"What I want isn't on the menu, and it's unfair when what I want most is right under me in this very room."
I gave in and squirmed my hand between the sheets, inching snake-like toward his round ass to cop a quick feel o' Sherlock. He yelped out and smiled.
"I'll take one John Watson. Main course. Not on the side. Never on the side," he said, voice deep and husky. He flung the sheets back, exposing his wicked morning hard-on.
"Eat first. Then dessert." He saw a twinge of lust flickering in my eyes, weighing out the ' should I or shouldn't I .' He wet his lips in concentration and longing as my fingers hovered over the buttons on the phone. For a moment there, he'd thought he'd won. Then, my stubborn streak—and hunger—came back.
"Just a quickie!" he said.
"Food first." I punched the buttons on the phone. "I think we both need something more substantial."
He laughed. "You're pretty substantial. Maybe we could ask room service to compare. What do you think? I already know your ingredients have more protein."
"Fuck, will you shut up. They probably hear you." I took the menu from him.
"You're blushing! I can't believe you're embarrassed. Or maybe that color is something like desire ," he said, tugging on his arm to come lie back on the bed. "Let's take a closer look. Yes, it's right here on your label." He threw back the sheet the rest of the way, exposing my morning interest. "Serving size, 2 teaspoons; Servings per container, unlimited; Calories, 15; Protein, 2 grams."
I burst out laughing. "Only Sherlock Holmes would know that nutritional information. Listen, maybe after. Until then, does strawberries and whip cream sound good? With the waffles that is."
He stared up at the ceiling, resigned. "If you must. Extra strawberries with whip cream."
I crooked my neck so that my cheek muffled the mouthpiece. "Okay, I'm off hold now so be quiet... Just one minute," I said to the kitchen. I straightened up, moved to the edge of the bed and turned my back to him. He was too much of distraction. He scooted toward my warmth. I put my hand over the receiver. "Anything else?" I asked.
"Bacon." He flexed his cold feet into my back, and I jumped.
I took my hand off the mouthpiece and turned my attention back to the phone, trying my best to ignore him. "Belgian waffles, double strawberries and whipped cream," I ordered. "Make that a pot of coffee, sugar and bacon too."
"Not rubbery. Crisp," he interrupted. He looked irritated. What was up with him? I took my feet away and rolled back on to my side of the bed.
"Sorry... I want the bacon crispy. Four pieces. Yeah and also a ham and cheese omelet. Great. Toast, too. Sourdough. How long? Okay... Thanks..."
YOU ARE READING
Failing Upward
ParanormalWhen John Watson, a young med student who supports himself as a florist-by-day and musician-by-night, finds he is heir to supernatural powers that others would kill to possess, John's life transforms into a mixture of comedy and terror as he goes fr...
