Playing with Dynamite

“You wanna go first?” he asked as he paid the attendant a few bucks.

“I don’t know.” Lisa looked doubtfully at the principal’s friendly face behind the cutout cardboard. “I was never good at throwing things, or catching them for that matter,” she said under her breath.

“Then let me help you.” Brick gave Lisa a pie and positioned himself directly behind her. He wrapped one hand around her waist and meshed the front of his body with the back of hers. His chest rubbed against her back, the heat of his belly nearly scorching her skin, and his masculinity was deliciously pressed against her buttocks.

Lisa nearly dropped the pie.

“Whoa!” Brick caught it and reinforced her grip on it with his hand.

He stood so close that his familiar scent and the thud of his heart seemed to invade her body. He had a musky scent that she associated with sex and satisfaction. It was the closest she’d come to this kind of intimacy in weeks, and Lord help her, her breasts were tightening beneath the knit shirt she wore.

“I’m not sure—” She tried for a normal tone.

“C’mon. Just throw it a little high.”

Lisa closed her eyes and tossed it.

“Not close enough,” he muttered. “Let’s do it one more time.”

She remembered when he’d said those same words to her right after making love. “Oh, no.” She moaned.

“You can do it.” He placed another pie in her hand. Her surroundings began to feel surreal. The principal taunted Brick, but it was Brick’s voice and body that became her focal point.