“He never put a woman on the back of that bike, except my ma.”
Archie said nothing.
“I’ve never had a woman on the back of that bike, Archie.”
She kept her body mostly in the same position, but she moved just enough to push her forehead deep into the point of his shoulder.
She stayed that way through two of his spoonfuls of ice cream.
Then, without a word, she shifted, resting her head against his shoulder, and she resumed eating.
He was grateful she didn’t dig, make a deal about it, just shared she got how huge that was and it meant something to her and then went back to her ice cream.
He was grateful, because it made it perfect.
* * * *
“You’re high,” she declared.
“I am not high. Everyone knows Disney World is better than Disneyland,” he reiterated what he’d said five seconds before.
“Everyone does not,” she retorted. “For instance, I don’t know that. Disneyland is the OG Disney theme park. As such, it is and always will be the best.”
He couldn’t believe his ears.
“Did you just refer to Disneyland as OG?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
It was much later that night.
Archie was in panties and another tank.
She was also straddling his lap in his bed where he sat, legs stretched out, head and shoulders to the headboard, hands moving randomly on her hips and on her skin under the tank at her waist, ribs, sometimes belly, sometimes ass.
It wasn’t about sex.
It was about touch.
The warmth of her skin, the smoothness.
It being hers.
And they were discussing some very important shit.
“Your argument is Disneyland is the original gangster of Disney theme parks?” he pushed.
“Dude, don’t even try to argue that the OG isn’t the best of everything.”
“We don’t have time for me to share the many examples of how faulty that logic is.”
She disagreed with this, obviously, since she kept arguing it.
“Right, the Beatles are the OG boy band. Then came the Monkees. Now, ‘Daydream Believer’ is a kickass song. Just the title kills it. But The Monkees are no Beatles. And the Beatles are Disneyland whereas the Monkees are Disney World. Good fun, but not the best.”
“Wrong,” he stated. “In that analogy, The Beatles are OG and therefore Disneyland and The Stones are Disney World. Do I need to go on?”
“My point still stands,” she declared outrageously.
He dug his fingers in her ribs and reminded her, “Woman, my name is Jagger.”
“And?”
She was out of her mind.
“This is the thing,” he announced. “If we go the distance and have kids, we’ll go to Cali to take them to Disneyland, but only so we can go to the beach too, hit a Dodgers game, do all that LA shit because Disneyland is a one-day thing. But we’re also taking them to Orlando to go to Disney World so we can do all things Disney and Epcot, which is also Disney. And we’ll probably be there for three weeks because Disney in Florida is not a one-day thing. We could fuckin’ move there and not take it all in.”
“If slash when,” she shot back.
“What?” he asked.
“You said ‘if we go the distance and have kids.’ But that isn’t ‘if.’ It’s ‘if slash when’ and the ‘if’ only stands when you’re being ridiculous and it’s annoying me. Like now.”
And suddenly, Jagger couldn’t give less fucks about how wrong she was about the Disney theme park debate.
“Are you that into me, baby?” he asked softly.
“Are you really asking me that question?” she asked back, not softly. “You’ve got a truck, Jag. It was you who put me on the back of your bike two hours ago. For me, I know what I like and I don’t have any hangups going for it. But I wouldn’t hassle with going to a date’s brother’s house for dinner and what that might communicate unless I intended to know that date and his brother really freaking well.”
“Come here,” he murmured, gripping her ribs and pulling her down to him.
She put a hand on his chest and stated, “You need to understand now, I’m Beatles, not Stones.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” He gripped her tighter. “Come here.”
“Though ‘Gimme Shelter’ might have the best lead-in of any rock song in history.”
“Baby?”
“What?”
“Shut up and come here.”
She stared in his face.
Then she slid her hand up his chest to his neck and back into his hair.
And she came there.
* * * *
It was morning, and like the day before, Archie had woken before him.
But unlike yesterday, she didn’t wake up in the mood to watch him sleep.
She woke in a very different mood.
And she made it so Jagger woke up in that same mood.
Which was why they were now face to face, she had her leg thrown over his hip, and he had two fingers knuckles-deep in her wet, tight pussy.
She went for his dick.
“Nope, hands off,” he growled, shifting his hips away.
“Baby,” she moaned, her hips moving with his fingers.
“The first time I come for you, I come in you.”
She whimpered.
“Ride those,” he ordered, then to scatter her attention with the intent to take it off his cock, he took her mouth, thrust his tongue in, and encouraged her rhythm with the hand he had at her ass and the movements of his tongue.
She did as urged and kept doing it even when she broke their mouths and shoved her face in his neck.
“Clit?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she gasped.
He adjusted his hand to get his thumb where it needed to be.
“Tip your head back, baby, I wanna watch your face,” he told her.
She tilted her head.
Christ.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.
“Can I just hold your cock?” she asked.
“I’m primed, sweetheart. You touch me, I’ll blow.”
She moaned again, pressed into him, and her hips went overdrive.
“There you go,” he murmured.
Her leg at his hip tensed and her pussy clutched his fingers.
“That’s it, Archie,” he whispered.
“Jagger.”
And he was right.
That was it.
Her eyes fluttered closed, her mouth drifted open, her tongue touched her lower lip, and the walls of her sex convulsed around his fingers as her clit contracted and released repeatedly against his thumb.
It looked great.
And it felt great.
When the tension caused by her orgasm ebbed from her body, he rolled to his back, pulling her on top, but keeping his hand between her legs, letting it glide through the wet, making her shiver and lift her knees to clamp on at his hips.
“Too much?” he asked quietly.
“No,” she answered, snuggling the side of his neck with her face.
“You got plans Sunday?”
“No,” she repeated.
“Early start. Take a ride. Somewhere, doesn’t matter where. Vail. Breck. Estes Park. You pick. We’ll have lunch. Come back. The rest of Sunday we fuck. I want you first in your bed. If you don’t have time to get provisions, I’ll drop them by when I pick you up for dinner Saturday. We’re going out for steaks. There’s something you want for our fuck-in Sunday, text it to me and I’ll grab it when I go shopping. Cool?”