Presently Perfect (Perfect #3) (42 page)

Buckling knees caused my body to jerk. I kept my palms glued to the countertop in order to hold myself up. My dick was spazzing out, attempting to punch its way through my jeans. Standing was becoming painful, but nothing would get me to budge from that spot.

Opening her eyes, she looked directly at me. “You want some?”

“Yes.” The word barely audible through my deep husky tone.

As I leaned forward, Tweet held her other hand up, stopping me.

The frosting finger started at her chin, traveled to her neck, and then over her collarbone. Thinking the trip was over I went in for a taste, but Tweet held me back again. The finger moved farther down…
down… down…
landing on her right tit. She ran her finger across the pointy nipple, smearing it with chocolate. My eyes, my heart, and my dick were all popping out. I didn’t know how much longer I would be able to last before I grabbed her and buried myself deep inside her.

Sweat dripped down my back as the temperature in the room climbed higher than molten lava. I was on the verge of hyperventilating. My head swirled while a tremor roared through my body. At some point my hands shifted and gripped the counter so tight my knuckles looked as if I had soaked them in bleach. As she gave the same treatment to the other nipple, I shut my eyes and bowed my head, trying my damnedest to stay in control.

I snapped out of my thoughts, opening my eyes at the sound of her voice. “Noah? I seem to have dropped some frosting. Would you help clean me off and…?”

My lips were on her neck before she could finish the question, taking her by surprise. Her gasps and giggles spurred me on. Grabbing her hips, I slid her to the edge of the counter. Her legs tightened around my waist, pulling me closer to her. After cleaning off her neck, my tongue moved to her chin, and then into her mouth. Our chests rubbed together, mixing frosting and sweat over our bare skin.

Mmm… salty and sweet Tweet.

Moving from her mouth, I headed down, cleaning every drop of frosting off of her body. I swept my tongue across her nipple before sucking it deep into my mouth. The moans coming from Tweet were like music to my ears. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging, twisting, and holding me firm against her chest.

I pulled back slightly, gasping for air, and whispered, “Fuck Tweet.”

“Yeah, fuck me!”

Tweet frantically grasped at the waistband of my jeans and tugged. I stumbled forward, catching myself on the counter. As our tongues collided I felt my zipper open and her hand slip inside, stroking me. A deep growl caused my chest to vibrate against hers. I released her lips. Placing my hands at the back of her upper thighs, I scooped her into my arms, bringing my mouth directly in line with her tits. Her arms encircled my head, and her legs found their rightful place around my waist. I sucked off what frosting remained as I shoved her against the fridge.

I looked up as she gasped and jerked slightly. Big teal eyes gazed down at me.

“It’s cold,” she said breathlessly, causing me to chuckle.

I lowered her slowly onto me. Every time I slid inside Tweet was better than the last, and each time had been perfect.

Dropping her forehead to mine, she moaned, “Faster, baby!”

My grip tightened around her hips, as I pressed her harder against the fridge. My thrusts had Tweet bouncing up and down so fast, it looked like she was riding a pogo stick instead of my dick. My muscles stiffened as she clenched around me. Jolts of electricity fired through our bodies.

Resting my sweaty forehead against hers. “We’re definitely buying lots more frosting next time.”

“Most definitely.”

“Do you realize that for the past day and a half we have had little to no clothes on?”

Tweet pointed out this fact while I sat on the sofa in only my boxers, with her in my lap wearing a pair of red short shorts and a flimsy white tank top. She was right. Since Friday night, we had been in various stages of undress, emphasis on the
un
.

“Maybe we should become nudists,” I said, running my hands up her thighs.

“I wouldn’t be able to function. You’re distracting enough fully dressed.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” She leaned in, lightly kissing the corners of my mouth.

“Man, you got it bad for me.”

Her kisses trickled down to my jaw. “Very bad.”

I inhaled a deep breath, letting it out slowly, as my hands slid under her shorts. “You wanna show me how bad? We could stay here or go back to the counter or…”

Tweet’s fingers combed through my hair as her hips slowly grinded into me. I kissed the strap off of her shoulder.

“The sofa’s not very conducive to what I had in mind to do to you and I’ve already disinfected the countertop. We should move this into my room,” she whispered, her warm breath floating over my neck.

Tweet shifted, reaching for her prosthetic leg that was propped against the coffee table in front of us. Even though she said the leg was comfortable to wear most of the time, it was a little clunky when we were in the midst of our maneuvers.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I need to put my leg on to get to my room.”

“You think I’m going to unhand your sweet little ass for one second? Oh hell no. I’ll carry you.”

With my hands firmly planted on her ass, I held Tweet close. Her arms snaked behind my neck. I had taken only one step toward the room when our lips connected. It was impossible not to kiss her. It was also impossible to walk with my eyes closed while kissing her. So, I came up with a system. Take two steps then kiss Tweet for a few minutes.

Step. Step.

Kiss.

Step. Step.

Kiss.

The system was foolproof. Almost.

We completed one of the step phases, landing us just past the front door. We were going at it hot and heavy when suddenly the door flung open.

“Oh my god!” Emily screamed.

In a flurry, Tweet unhooked her legs and lowered them to the floor. She let go of my neck while I reluctantly let go of her ass. She turned in my arms to face her sister, my hands holding on to her shoulders.

“Emily! Um… this is…,” Tweet stammered.

“Exactly what you think it is.” I finished her sentence.

Emily’s mouth opened and closed several times before any words were formed.

“How long have I been gone?”

“Well, things happened kind of quick. Right, Noah?” Tweet’s head tilted back as she glanced up at me.

“I wouldn’t call nineteen years in the making quick,” I said, sarcastically.

Tweet back elbowed me in the ribs. “He’s joking. He’s a jokester.” Awkward pause. “Emily… say something… please.”

Sensing that the sisters needed a few minutes alone, I decided it would be a good idea for me to disappear into Tweet’s room. Not to mention the fact that I had just realized I was standing in front of Emily in only my boxers.

In one simultaneous flash, I took a step back, dropped my hands from Tweet’s shoulders. Emily opened her mouth to talk, and Tweet started tipping over.

“Noah! My leg!”

Emily lunged forward as I flung my arm around Tweet’s waist, catching her before she hit the floor. Turning her to face me, I squatted down, wrapped my arms around her thighs, and lifted Tweet over my shoulder.

“Welcome home, Emily,” I said, heading down the hall.

“Yeah, welcome home, sis!” Tweet giggled.

“I think the two of you together is fantastic and about damn time!” Emily yelled.

Once in the bedroom I dropped a laughing Tweet onto the bed and fell on top of her.

“We’ve been found out. How long do you think it will be before she informs the parental units?”

“Knowing my sister, she probably speed dialed Mom before we even got to my bedroom door.”

My hand roamed up the side of her body, slipping under her shirt.

“Noah, what are you doing?” Tweet slapped her hand on top of mine.

“I’m following through on our original plan before we got interrupted.”

“We can’t do that now.”

“Why not?”

“Because Emily is in the next room.”

“And your point?”

“She’ll think we’re having
sex.
” She whispered the last word.

“Then by all means let’s not disappoint her.”

“What if she hears us?”

“You’ll just have to keep your cries of sweet ecstasy to a low murmur.”

She hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Tweet, I did not wait all these years to be cock-blocked by your sister, who, by the way, already knows and is probably expecting us to engage in sexual activity.”

Giggling, she said, “You have been a very patient boy.”

“Damn straight.”

Lifting her head, she kissed the tip of my chin while rubbing her right lower leg over my ass.

“Patience is a virtue.”

“It’s a big one.” The corners of my mouth curled up as I grinded my hips into her.

She slid my hand farther up under her shirt. “And you should be rewarded for your efforts.”

“I’m glad you’re starting to see things my way.”

My gaze was fixated on the pair. It wasn’t as if I’d never seen them before. Maybe it was the positon of my head, but from this angle they appeared larger and more engorged than I remembered. More than likely they were always this size. I was just paying more attention to the details now.
Sitting by her side with our hands joined, I rhythmically moved my thumb over her wrist. While she read a book, I stared up at the pair of bags containing her chemo drugs hanging above us, dripping hope into her body.

I had taken the day off from school so I could be with Tweet during her treatment. She tried to talk me out of it without success. I’d been in this room plenty of times, transporting patients across the street from the main hospital. But today, when we entered, a wave of anxiety surged through my body.

I watched intensely as the nurses went through the routine of getting Tweet ready. She handled it like a champ, this being a part of her life for the past two and a half months. She didn’t even flinch when they inserted the IV needle into her arm. Tweet had started off using a Port-A-Cath, which had been surgically placed in her upper chest area right before she started treatments. It enabled the nurses to draw blood and administer the chemo without having to stick Tweet with a needle each time. She hated having that thing sticking out of her skin, so when it became infected and had to be removed, she opted to leave it out, requiring the chemo nurses to start an IV each time she was here.

I ripped my gaze away from the IV bags and scanned the room instead. In an attempt to make the experience as comfortable as possible for the patients, calming and distracting elements were interspersed with the medical equipment. A bookcase piled with magazines, books, DVDs, and some board games shared the wall with the chemo cart stocked with supplies and drugs in case a patient had an allergic reaction. A flat screen TV and DVD player were mounted on the wall in one corner next to a bulletin board covered with information on local support groups, hotlines, and charity events as well as instructions on what to do in case of a toxic spill. Hand sanitizers and latex glove dispensers were strategically placed on the walls around the room between paintings of the ocean, a field full of flowers, and a sunset. The only other furniture in the room were the chairs lining the walls, each with its own IV pole and small side table. I had seen this exact setup before, but now it felt different. When the person you love claims one of the pale pink hospital recliners, the room transforms from a medical facility to a place where you beg for prayers to be answered.

“There’s still time.” Tweet’s voice caught my attention.

“Still time for what?”

“To bow out. Walk away. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Play dumb. You’re no good at it.” She gave me a weak smile. “This is the time in your life when you should be having fun—traveling, going to parties, meeting new people, hanging out with friends… planning your future.” Her eyes shined, as tears formed. “I can’t attach any of that to my life at the moment, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.”