Chapter 477 | I’d Like a Turn

Chapter 477: 477 | I’d Like a Turn

Kumiko froze. Her face went from pink to crimson in half a second, and she clapped both hands over her mouth hard enough to make a slapping noise.

"You were snoring," she squeaked through her fingers.

"I was resting my eyes and listening to you moan about your bones like a nun at a spa." Chloe opened one eye and looked down at Kumiko with zero mercy and a lot of fondness. "Keep going, Jordan. She sewed that hem four times. She’s earned it."

"I don’t need to earn it, I was just reporting," Kumiko protested.

"Then report louder."

Chloe sat up and stretched, the onesie riding up over her stomach, and Jordan saw the faint curve there that hadn’t existed in January. Nobody else would notice it yet. He noticed it because he’d been sleeping next to that stomach for six weeks, and his brain had apparently decided to memorize every centimeter of it without asking permission.

Chloe caught him looking. She didn’t say anything. She tugged the onesie down over the curve, then leaned in and bit the side of his jaw, hard enough to sting.

"Eyes up, McKnight."

"My eyes were up."

"Your eyes were on my uterus." She slid off the couch onto the floor beside Kumiko, the flannel ears flopping, and pulled Kumiko’s hair loose from both ribbons with two quick tugs. "Lie down on your stomach. He’s going to do your whole back, and I’m going to watch, and you’re going to stop apologizing for making noise in my apartment."

"It’s Jordan-kun’s apartment."

"It’s my apartment with his name on the lease."

Kumiko lay down on the rug face first, her black hair fanning out across the grey wool, and yanked the henley up over her shoulder blades. Her back was narrow and pale, with that little scatter of freckles low on her ribs that Jordan had found on Tuesday and had thought about at least nine times since. He knelt over the backs of her thighs, put both palms flat on either side of her spine, and let the heat go.

Kumiko’s whole body jolted.

"Hyaaah! Ah, ahh, it’s so hot, Jordan-kun, it’s so hot..."

"Too much?"

"No! Keep! Keeping!"

He worked down her spine one vertebra at a time, and every single one got its own noise. The upper ones came out as squeaks. The middle ones came out as long shaky moans that rose at the end. By the time his thumbs reached the small of her back, just above the waistband of her pink sleep shorts, Kumiko’s hips had come off the rug, pushing up into his hands while her fingers clawed at the wool.

"There," she gasped. "Right there, that’s where all the sewing lives, that’s where I keep the stress, oh god, oh my god, nnnhaaa..."

Chloe sat cross-legged beside them with her chin in her hand, watching like she was grading a performance review. Her cheeks had gone pink under her glasses, and her free hand had wandered to the zipper of the onesie and pulled it down three inches without seeming to notice.

Jordan noticed.

"You’re staring," Chloe said without looking up from Kumiko.

"You’re unzipping."

"It’s warm in here. Somebody’s hands are a space heater." She finally lifted her eyes to his, and they were dark behind the gold frames. "Finish her back first. Then you can stare."

He pressed his thumbs into the dimples above Kumiko’s hips and pushed heat straight down into the muscle there, and Kumiko went off like a firework. Her back arched off the rug. Her mouth fell open, and the sound that came out of her was long and high and cracked twice in the middle, and somewhere through the brick wall Miss Valentine’s oven door creaked open.

"Aaaahn! Ahh! Jordan-kun, Jordan-kun, Jordan-kun..."

Her body shuddered under his palms in slow waves. Then she collapsed flat on the rug, panting, her face turned sideways with drool on Mr. Snuggles’ ear and her eyes glassy and unfocused.

"I think I just had a massage orgasm," she whispered to nobody. "Is that allowed? Page thirty-five didn’t have a section for that."

"Add one," Chloe said.

"I’m adding a whole Chapter."

Chloe stood up. The onesie hung open to her sternum now, revealing that she wore nothing underneath, and the gold chain lay against the bruise Jordan had left there on Wednesday. She stepped over Kumiko’s ankles, took Jordan by the collar of his shirt, and pulled him up off his knees with more strength than a girl her size had any right to.

"Upstairs," she said.

"It’s two in the afternoon."

"It’s two in the afternoon on our day off, and I just watched you make my best friend come with your thumbs, and I’d like a turn before the Thai food arrives." Her voice dropped to the register she used for Calypso, low and slow, except now it had a crack in it that belonged only to him. "Unless you’d rather go back to doing nothing."

Kumiko rolled onto her back on the rug, her henley still bunched under her armpits and her chest heaving. She looked up at them both with her hair in a black halo and her expression doing something Jordan had no words for.

"Can I come watch," she asked, very small. "I won’t touch unless I’m allowed. I’ll be furniture. Chloe taught me how to be furniture."

Chloe held out her hand without hesitating.

"You’re not furniture, Kumi. Get up."

Kumiko took her hand. Chloe pulled her to her feet, and Kumiko wobbled, her knees still wrecked from the massage, and Jordan caught her around the waist before she hit the coffee table. She weighed about as much as his gym bag. She looked up at him with wet brown eyes, and he picked her up because walking clearly wasn’t an option, and Chloe led them both up the stairs by his free hand.

The loft smelled like lemon cleaner and the clean sheets Chloe had made him put on yesterday. Harbor light came through the factory windows in long amber bars across the mattress. Jordan set Kumiko down on the left side, and she sank into the duvet like a dropped scarf, and then Chloe pushed him flat on his back in the middle with one palm on his chest.

"Don’t use the voice," Chloe said, peeling the onesie off her shoulders. "I sang for two thousand people last night, and I’d like to keep my throat."