Good Girl

Two stories for the price of one today.

First, a personal one. Someone casually called me a good girl in a business conversation, thankfully over the phone. While shocked, I played along and responded with 'yes, I am.'  But after I hung up, my brain short-circuited. You never call 'a good girl' another man's good girl. Never ever ever, you useless prick! And that is my rant of the day.

The second one is fiction, a part of the same series about Izzie and Nick, that happened in the very early days of their relationship, hence the reaction to these two magic words. Enjoy!

GOOD GIRL

Finally, the perfect height. Izzie is perched on the gazebo’s railing, Nick stands between her legs, hot and bothered, again. And so is she.

"A condom?" he nods to her beach bag on the floor.

"In my beach bag? Who do you think I am?" Izzie jerks away like from a blow. Annoyed, frustrated, vulnerable, and, most of all, exhausted. The fuckfest that started last night is taking a toll on her.

He does not hesitate, but the brutal honesty and the raw desire are not what she needs right now. "The most amazing woman in the world. Now, chop-chop," he plops the bag on the railing next to her hip.

"You are so mean," her eyes swell with tears.

"I streamlined the events in the direction we both want them to go. Do we?" he tries to meet her eyes, seeking confirmation. Her hand disappears in the bag and fishes out a foil package.

"Good girl," he murmurs and extends his hand palm up.

"No!" she hides it behind her back, looking up, burning him up with her stare. "Do you always take what you want?"

"Only what's willfully given, yes. Didn't you do most of the taking yesterday?"

"I don't do checks and balances in sex."

"Me neither, and we are both lying." Her face looks so small cradled in his hands. His dark brown eyes, as endearing and relentless as ever.

"Please don't cry. Izzie, why are you crying?"

"I don't know. I feel so empty and full at the same time."

"Me too. Like a house on fire but I’m the house and the fire."

"You're still riding the high, and I'm crashing." Her usually restless hands hover slowly over his, dropping the foil on the ground. Nick's eyes trace it, not daring to move his head, and return to Izzie's.

"Good boy," she is quick to return the insult. Good boy knows when to back out and when to give more. No checks and balances here.

"Do you want me to bring you back up?" he whispers in her ear.

"Yes. Yes, I do. Will you eat me?" she asks like someone would ask for a glass of water. If that's what it takes to get back into her good graces, he will stay on his knees forever.

"With greatest pleasure but not now. You still smell of me, from that time in the ocean. I will gag like a high school girl on her first blowie."

She lets out a chuckle, and it melts his heart. She's back, smiling at him again.

"Are you a half-dog?" she asks.

"Hell, no. When you sat on my shoulders, the smell was right there. I can offer you some digital magic," he wiggles his fingers in front of her face.

"No," she pouts.

He puts together his index and middle finger and bends the rest in a fist. "Doesn't it look like an average size dick?" he continues, unbearably smug.

"You're so full of it."

"I know, but isn't it fun?"

"Who knew you could be so much fun?"

"I knew it." That cocky bastard.

"Not stroking your ego."

"You can stroke something else." His suggestion falls on deaf ears.

"No, to stroking. Yes, to magic," she delivers the verdict.

She turns half-way and shuffles, so her back rests against the post, one foot now propped up on the railing, the other foot dangling uncomfortably in the air. Not wide open, but an invitation nonetheless. Nick places his foot on a beam a foot off the ground and moves her dangling leg over to rest on his bent knee. 

"Comfy?"

"Kiss me," she nods.

He kisses her sloppily in the delicious valley between her small breasts. She pulls him up by his hair. "You didn't specify where," he protests as he covers her mouth with his.

God bless women who wear dresses and skirts and the sounds one can draw from them.

"Aww!"

"That's a new sound! Here?"

"Awww! Nicky! Un bâtard formidable*..."

*You wonderful bastard (inspired by Stromae'song Formidable)

To read all my fiction in order click here