"What's that look for?" Big murmured deeply, staring down at the playful smirk on her lips. His hand crept higher and cupped her lace-covered breast, his own smirk spreading on his face when he rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger and she moaned. Her big brown eyes fluttered open, dancing with a mixture of amusement and arousal as she looked back at him. He raised one eyebrow in question.
"Nothing," she said quietly, her lips twitching again. "Just got a song stuck in my head."
Big rolled his eyes. "Larrington, if you tell me that you're hearing fucking Babs while your tit's in my hand, my junk is gonna fall off," he bit out gruffly.
A loud giggle tore from her lips and she shook her head, stroking a hand down the back of his neck. "It's not Beyoncé." She pulled his head down and caught his bottom lip between hers, nibbling on it gently. "Definitely more risqué than Beyoncé," she murmured between kisses.
"Easy E's Gimme That Nut?" he teased, shoving the soft sweater up to expose her boobs. (Royal blue lace today. Hot.)
"Closer," she laughed, pressing her lips against his stubbly cheek.
"Snoop Dogg?" he asked before mouthing a lacy peak.
"No, Closer…by Nine Inch Nails," Alisha said breathlessly, dipping her fingers into the waistband of his jeans.
Big lifted his head and grinned impishly, the lyrics now looping through his mind. "Damn, that's hot, Larrington. You're hot." He sat up, pulling her with him and smoothed her sweater up and off her body.
Grinning, she reached for the hem of his shirt and tossed it to the floor with hers. "So are you going to?" she asked, peering up mischievously at him, fingers brushing lightly over the downy hair on his chest.
"Fuck you like an animal? Hell yes," he nearly growled, pushing her back against the cushions and reaching for the button of her jeans, making her laugh.
"Good," she grinned again, her hands on his belt. There were just so many wonderful benefits to their friends with benefits situation, she decided.
A loud, distinctive knock sounded on the door and they both froze, Alisha's eyes going wide as saucers.
"Ignore it," was his whispered groan, dropping his head to kiss her.
The knock sounded again, this time more insistent. "Delicious, open up. I swear. Don't make me search for my key," Russell called testily.
"Shit," she whispered heatedly, scrambling to zip up her jeans and pull her sweater back on. "It's Russell." Plans for him to come over today had vacated her brain the second Big's lewd text message arrived. "Hide!" she told Big, tossing his shirt at his head. He held up his hands questioningly and she pointed to her room.
He walked as fast as his raging boner would allow, scowling and cursing at her friend's unknowing, yet utterly successful, cockblock. Alisha tossed his shoes and his coat past him into her room. "Sorry," she whispered, shoving him along. "Please be quiet. I'll get rid of him as soon as I can." With an apologetic smile, she closed her bedroom door and hurried towards the front door, doing a quick scan to make sure there weren't any signs of Big in the living room. After a check in the mirror of her own appearance, she opened the door to see her best friend loaded down with garment bags and a less than amused pout on his face. "Hi," Alisha said groggily.
"Sweet Mariah Carey—finally," he clipped, shoving one of the bags at her as he flounced into the apartment. "What took you so long?"
"Sorry, K, I was in my room taking a nap and I didn't hear you knocking," she smoothly lied, rubbing her eyes for added effect.
Russell turned and regarded her. "Hmm," he sniffed. "And here I was hoping your rumpled appearance was from something fun—like you taking my advice about Big," he said dryly.
Russell's sneer was unnerving, and a little tingle shot up her spine and made the hair on the back of her neck stand at attention. But he couldn't possibly know. Could he? No, there was no way. She and Big hadn't interacted with anyone from the group together since that morning at the bakery and she hadn't breathed a word about anything remotely related to their activities. "Well, my friend, I hate to disappoint you, but I haven't taken, nor will I be taking, your advice in regards the fireman." She held her gaze level with his, determined not to give herself away. If Russell saw a flicker of, well, anything, he would doggedly pursue that until he knew absolutely everything, and she couldn't let that happen. His eyes narrowed and for a moment she was afraid.
"Great," he rolled his eyes. "We'll have to find someone else to clean the bats out of your belfry soon because damn, girlfriend…it's been way too long. And you're way too bitchy lately."
Alisha's jaw dropped, mildly offended. "Says the man whose picture is listed Beneath the word in the dictionary. If you've come over only to insult me, you can go and I'll get back to my nap." She folded her arms over her chest in a huff.
"Not until we pick out the coat for the parade. It's next week. And I've brought some utterly fantabulous choices with me that are to die for, Delicious. Shall we hang these up in your room and get started?"
"No," she said a little too quickly. Fucking smooth, Alisha. "My room's a disaster," she added. "I know how you hate my messes. Let's just look out here."
"Very well," he sighed, unzipping one of the garment bags. "Feast your eyes on these little beauties."
Big stood listening at the door, catching every word of their conversation and he made a mental note to ask her about a few things once they were alone—and after they'd fucked of course, because goddamn—he was particularly curious about Russell's advice
