Feisty Francesca

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#33 A geriatric playing beer bong

“Franny!” Joshua looks surprised when he opens the door. “Was I expecting you?”

“No, I was just in the neighborhood, thought I’d come see if you wanted to watch a movie with me.” I hear voices drifting in from the living room, and I suddenly realize that I should have texted or called before coming over. He’s probably on a date or something. “Sorry to disturb you,” I say, already turning back around.

“Disturb me?” He chuckles. “It’s just Yord, Marcia, and a few other friends. We’re playing beer pong. Wanna join?”

“Beer pong?” I repeat. “God, I haven’t played that since college.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not all geriatrics like you,” he teases. “We’re still in college, remember?”

I follow him inside and I’m immediately greeted by a drunk Yord who picks me up in a bear hug and carries me over to Joshua’s kitchen table, that has been turned into a game of beer pong. The big, posh apartment suddenly looks like a frat house, and I can tell that Joshua is feeling right at home, looking just as at ease drinking and laughing with his college friends as he does sitting on the couch sipping fancy coffee. He may be rich, and he may seem mature, but he’s also just a normal 21-year-old guy.

No, 22, I remember. He got offended the last time I called him 21, because apparently, he’s had a birthday. I guess I thought he was 21 because Shaughna told me that, but that was indeed a while ago. People age.

“Is this Josh’s girl?” a short black-haired guy asks Yord, slurring his words and eyeing me like he wants to devour me whole.

“Yes,” Joshua says from behind me, stepping up to put his arm around me. “So hands off, Akerman.”

Akerman grabs another beer and walks off to talk to another girl who doesn’t seem too happy with his attention.

“Your girl?” I ask Joshua, stepping out of his embrace.

“Sorry, that’s George. He’s a friend of a friend, he tagged along with someone’s cousin or something,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “Saying no doesn’t help, he will just think you’re playing hard to get. He does respect relationships though, so if he thinks you’re my girl, he will leave you alone.”

We both watch George Akerman hit on the curtains, and I let out a startled laugh. “How drunk is he?”

“Not as drunk as you might think,” Joshua says, sounding amused as well. “And definitely not as drunk as Yord.”

Yord cheers at the sound of his own name, and I catch Marcia looking at him with what can only be described as fondness. Hmm. Interesting. Maybe I should play matchmaker soon.

“Beer pong?” Joshua asks, gesturing at the table.

“I thought you’d never ask, boyfriend,” I tease, sticking out my tongue.

“I will still beat your ass, girlfriend or not,” he jokes back, winking at me.

We start a game with Marcia and Yord, boys against the girls, and it’s clear that I’m out of practice. I end up drinking the contents of almost every single cup on the table, and since I already had a few beers in my system before coming over here, I am starting to get a real nice buzz.

I’m playing guitar with Joshua when my phone rings, and I smile when I see it’s James. He must be done with his shift. I walk into Joshua’s bedroom, sitting down on the foot of the bed with the door closed so I can hear James over the loud noises of the party.

“Hey honey,” I say when I pick up. “Done with work?”

“Yeah, I just walked in and I expected to see you here, so I wanted to check up on you.” He sounds a little worried. “Are you still at Shaughna’s?”

“No, I ended up at Josh’s place,” I start to explain. “He’s having a party and-”

“Who’s Josh?” James cuts in, his voice dark,

“Joshua,” I say, “you know, my friend who used to have a broken leg. The one I’m in the band with.”

“Hmm,” he grumbles. “Okay. How about I come pick you up? It’s late.”

“Or you could come over and join us for a little while before we go?” I propose. “You can meet the whole band, get to know them… Might be nice, right? You’ve got the day off tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Fran, you know that’s not my scene,” he says with a sigh. “I just got off from what might have been the most awful shift in my life, I got puked on three times by three different drunk assholes, I’m tired, and I just want to go to bed and fall asleep with you in my arms.”

“I’ll just get an uber home,” I say, feeling guilty for not being there when he came home. I did tell him I’d be at his place and that my night with Shaughna wasn’t going to turn that late, since she’s got a million things to do in the morning.

“I’m coming to get you,” James insists. “Text me the address.”

I hang up and walk back into the party, feeling less giddy now, but still very buzzed. Oh fuck. James doesn’t like drunk Franny, and I’m definitely on the verge of being drunk. Oh well. I take the beer Joshua offers me. One more won’t hurt. I tell him about James picking me up and Joshua lights up.

“I’ve been wondering when I’d get to meet him,” he says, putting his beer on the coffee table. Condensation makes a ring on the table, but Joshua doesn’t seem to care. It’s not like his place isn’t already a total mess with the party and all. Coasters aren’t high on his list of priorities, I guess. “I’ve been curious about the guy. He must be pretty special to lock down a girl like you.”

“James is coming?” Marcia asks from behind me. “Sweet!”

I grin up at her, loving her new hair color. She’s bright blue now, with matching eyebrows. It’s a little whacky but it suits her.

About fifteen minutes later, a loud shout sounds from the hallway. “Oh my God, who ordered us a stripper?” a girl yells, walking back into the living room with James in tow, who is still in his uniform.

I burst out laughing. “That’s not a stripper, that’s my boyfriend.”

“Huh?” George Akerman asks, frowning through his alcohol-induced haze. “I thought you were Josh’s girl?”

“No,” James says, putting an arm around me the moment I reach him. “She’s mine.”

“Hey man,” Joshua says, getting up from the couch to shake James’ hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Joshua.”

James takes in Joshua from head to toe, and he doesn’t seem to like what he’s seeing. It’s like that first time he met Thomas. I can see jealous, possessive James coming back, and I curse myself for letting this happen. If I’d just told him that I was here before he called me. Or if I’d just gone home. James has been such a trooper about me hanging out with so many guys. I don’t want him to feel like he’s got anything to worry about.

“Franny!” Yord exclaims, running up to me and wrapping me in another bear hug, causing James to drop his arm from around me. “Don’t leave!”

I laugh and disentangle myself from him, wincing at him much he reeks of beer and sweat. “It’s time for the old people with jobs to go to sleep, college boy,” I tease him.

Marcia hugs me goodbye, and she puts her mouth right up against my ear. “Your boyfriend is ridiculously hot,” she says in a loud whisper.

I look at James, who is smiling because he heard her. “Thanks,” he tells her with a wink. “Good to know Fran’s friends have good taste.”

I hug Joshua goodbye and call out to the others in the apartment, and then James and I are off. He’s a little standoffish at first, but I just ramble on and on about my night, telling him every single detail about my time with Shaughna, Annabel’s phone call, Marcia, Joshua, Yord, and the party. By the time we’re on his couch, my legs thrown over his lap, he’s relaxed again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, gently massaging my thighs. “I know I went back into jealous boyfriend mode, even though I promised I wouldn’t do that anymore.”

I moan at the feeling of his hands on my body. I’m in that wonderful place where you’re buzzed enough to get aroused by a featherlight touch, but not so drunk that you don’t know what you’re doing.

“It’s okay,” I breathe. “At least you know your faults. Not that you have many. You heard that girl at the party – she thought you were a stripper. That’s because you’re hot. Marcia agrees with her, as you heard. But they don’t know you like I do.” I grab his face to kiss him. “I know that you’re also really sweet, protective, caring, and a real gentleman. And that you have the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen. I will never grow tired of looking at you tats. And your cock… Oh. My. God. Your cock is like…” I struggle to find the right words. “I still think someone created you just for me, molded your cock so it would fit my pussy perfectly, adding a piercing to make me go even crazier over you.”

He chuckles. “How drunk are you?”

“Just the right amount for amazing drunk sex,” I say, hoping not to get rejected again.

“You want to have sex right now?” he asks, studying my face like he wants to make sure I’m sober enough to make a conscious decision about this. He’s so sweet.

“Yeah,” I say, already getting up from the couch to take off my pants and T-shirt so I’m just in my underwear now. “I love drunk sex.”

“You do?” James doesn’t look all that eager to sleep with, I can see that even in my buzzed state. That stings, but I’m not ready to give up. Maybe he’ll like drunk Franny better after letting her show him a good time.

“Everything feels so…” I drop to my knees and unbuckle his belt, rushing to unleash his cock from his pants. “…so good when I’m this buzzed. Not that it doesn’t always feel good with you, but I could just…” I moan at the sight of him, so big even though he’s not fully erect yet. “…I could just come from blowing you alone, without even needing you to touch me,” I breathe before running my tongue over his shaft.

“Fuck,” James grunts, his cock twitching as he grows harder.

I wrap my lips around him and take him as far inside of me as I can, my gag reflex not as prominent with all the alcohol in my system. One of the many reasons to love drunk Franny. I blow him for a while, growing hotter myself with every groan I coax out of him, moaning around him until I can no longer take it. I need him inside of me. Now.

“Fuck me,” I order when I look up into his gorgeous blue eyes. “Unleash the beast.”

James pulls me to my feet and hurries to take off his uniform. I yank off my underwear, never taking my eyes off that magnificent cock of his. He grabs me when we’re both naked and lifts me up so I have to wrap my legs around his waist. We back up against the wall, not even taking the time to get to the bedroom, and then he’s inside of me, not easing into me like he normally does. He slams into me again and again, my back hitting the wall so hard that I cry out.

Any other night, this would be too much, but I’m so wet and horny that it doesn’t even hurt. Not really. He’s only a few thrusts in when I’m already coming so hard that tears stream down my face. I’m gasping for air, but James doesn’t ease up on me. Instead, he pulls out of me, turns me around and bend me over the back of the couch, slamming right back into me with a feral grunt.

Holy. Fuck.

I come again, whimpering from the intensity, wanting him to stop and keep going at the same time.

“Again,” he orders me, smacking my ass. “Time for number three, Fran.”

I’m so far gone that I don’t even know where I end and he begins. My body shudders and then I’m coming for the second time, calling out his name again and again until he fills me up with his cum, fingers digging into my skin so hard that I think he might be bruising me.

He pulls out with a groan, and then he’s back to sweet, caring James. He helps me up, kisses me tenderly and carries me into the bathroom, taking his time to lather me in soap from top to bottom. I’m unable to do more than just stand there, legs trembling, eyelids heavy.

“Did I hurt you, baby?” he asks in a worried tone, his fingers moving over the spot where he grabbed me earlier. “Oh God, I think I bruised you.”

“That’s okay,” I assure him with a smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” I’ve had intense, almost violent sex before, especially when I’m so drunk that I just want to keep coming over and over again, not caring where or how. Thomas and Aston have given me bruises before. Even Leonard has.

“Oh,” James says, that one tiny little word coming out a little strained. “Okay.”

When we’re both clean and dry, we snuggle in bed, my head on his chest.

“I love you,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to his tattooed chest. And this time, I really mean it. I’m not just saying it back to him, I really do love him.

“I love you so much,” he replies with a smile in his voice. “Even drunk Franny. I prefer regular, sweet, sober Franny, but I think I can get used to this side of you as well.”

“Hmm,” I say with a yawn. “Good.”

He chuckles and rolls me over, spooning me. “Go to sleep, baby. It’s been a long day.”

I drift off right away, a smile of my face as the darkness engulfs me.

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