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Chapter Twenty-One
Point of View: Nick


We'd eaten pizza and played cribbage. She'd skunked me twice and I'd finally swiped the board and the empty pizza box off the table and grabbed her and kissed her passionately. She'd sat on the table and wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck and leaned back and grinned up at me. "You're a sore loser," she giggled.

"I just don't like losing," I protested, leaning forward to try to kiss her.

Krystal expertly leaned with me as I leaned, getting further away rather than closer. I felt like a horse with a carrot in front of its face. She continued to giggle. "No you are, you're a sore loser! I can't believe you, swiping the board off the table, like losing your little loser-green-pegs will help you do better next time..."

"I hate cribbage," I mumbled, running my hands up her back, trying to pull her closer. She kept her arms stiff, holding me at bay.

"You're such a stinker," she laughed. She scrambled across the table and dropped off the far side of it and collected the cards I'd thrown like it was 52-pick-up. "Look at the mess you made," she murmured.

I kicked the cribbage board aside and walked over to her and caught her in my arms again. She leaned against me and dropped the cards back to the floor. "I don't care about the mess," I confessed.

She stared up at me. "I love you."

"Why?" I asked her.

"Because you don't care about the mess."

Somehow I got a feeling she was talking about herself.



I only half awoke when the door to my bedroom creaked open in the middle of the night - long after we'd said goodnight and gone to our separate rooms. I shifted and nestled my face into my pillow. I felt the bed move under her weight as she crawled across the mattress. I felt the covers move as she pulled them open and slid under and tucked herself in beside me. I held up my arm as an invitation and she scooted into me, her back to my chest, our knees curved together, my mouth against the back of her head. Krystal tucked my arm around her and we both drifted back to sleep.



The sun was shining into my room, reflecting off the ocean. I blinked myself awake, blinded by the beams that were glaring right into my eyes. I went to move... but couldn't. "What the hell...?" I mumbled, twisting my head to inspect what was going on.

My hands were tied to the bed with two of my ties.

"What the hell...?" I asked again. This time with more enthusiasm as I was waking up more and comprehending more what was going on. I wrestled with the ties, trying to make them come undone, but they were knotted well. I looked at the indent beside me on the bed, where Krystal had been laying. "Krys?" I called, wriggling my hands, "Krystal?"

The door opened slowly and Krystal stepped into the room, wearing absolutely nothing except a pair of tall stiletto heels and a grin. She was carrying a bottle of chocolate syrup.

Oh. my. God.

I'd dreamed of a moment like this since I was like ten.

She moved slowly across the room, every step she took flexing her body just right. I lay there, captured like an animal, and wriggled in anticipation. She reached the bedside and stood there, hovering over me. I licked my lips. She was gorgeous. She squeezed just a little bit of chocolate sauce onto her finger and stuck it into her mouth. I watched, moaning, as she sucked the chocolate off her finger.

"Krys," I murmured.

Krystal climbed onto the bed and straddled me across my chest, her legs bent along either side of me, her womanly aroma assaulting my nostrils. I felt like every once of blood I had was centralized at my crotch. My head was dizzy as I watched her squeeze some more chocolate onto a couple fingers. She slid the chocolate covered fingers into my mouth and I sucked the chocolate off them.

"Hmm," she mumbled as my tongue worked against her skin. She pulled her fingers out of my mouth and took the syrup bottle in her hands and grinned at me. "I could just eat you up..." she mused.

I swear to God, I'll never think of chocolate syrup the same way ever again. One hour of pure, untellable heaven has forever ruined the pleasure I once found in chocolate milk.

After she'd untied my hands, we were laying there in bed, the syrup on the nightstand, her shoes long kicked off, the covers around our waists, my hands absently playing with her chest. "I must've been a really good boy to deserve that," I murmured.

Krystal smiled, "The best," she answered.

I took her hands and lifted them up to my face and kissed her palms. They were salty from sweat and sweet from left over chocolate. They tasted like her. I grinned through her fingers at her.

"You make me feel safe," she whispered, "And wanted and special."

"You are all those things," I answered.

Krystal's eyes filled with tears even as her face broke into a smile, "But I never felt them before, Nick," she whispered.

"Well it's about time that you do," I answered, "It's long, long overdue." I kissed her softly on her forehead. Then I glanced at the syrup on the night stand and grinned devilishly. I grabbed the bottle.

"Niiick," she giggled warningly.

But I'd already taken the cap off and started squeezing. "Clean up on aisle Krystal," I snickered and stuck out my tongue, ready to do my janitorial duties...