Okay okay, bestill his dick.
No. His heart. Yes. His heart. Roo knew. Louder than the thunder in the distance. Okay, not so much in the distance. Not thunder. No. Never mind.
Those apples were heaven to the nose, like that scent after Peaches’ namesake, yet …
Her breasts were a heavenly bounty to the eyes and loins. Even under (slightly transparent, okay more than slightly Ms Femme Fatale) minidress of candy pink and bright candy red bra that … that …
So … close …
It was … his trouser dagger he wanted to put in her.
“Roo?” Peaches said, “Haven’t seen you in a leering long time and … sigh, you did promise a rock-paper-razors rematch one day …”
Her finger under his chin? Soooo soft and — ack!
And up.
(Ouch. His neck. Elves were crazy strong.)
(Oh yeah, she slipped in “one” already. Sly girl.)
But now they were face to face.
Hers was a lovely (grimacing) baby beautiful face framed by wedged loooong bangs of sunny hair. Breath so friendly warm and peachy, just like years ago, when—
Ah.
Then like now, their hands both had grabbed the stick of the last roasted apple at the same time.
Sneaky.
Perfect.
(Good job hand!)
“Still peach pie breathed but …” Roo said, “Remember how much I teased you over it?”
“Yeah,” Peaches said, “Better for monsters to munch me over.”
“That why I called you Bait,” he said.
That irked gaze of hers with a playful grimace, no doubt she’ll play razors again, so to double those scissor odds, Roo reached flirty for her hand by his chin.
Ah!
She jerked it away just in time. And that pout — perfect!
“I so hated that nickname,” she said.
Roo smiled back. “But it got me to promise to go badass wizard and protect you two.”
She fisted her hand and lightly punched the side of her now cocked hips, just like her other hand, and jutted her hips forward flirty, as if posing proudly as prime monster food, which elf girls were notoriously were, in fact.
“After I smacked you silly,” Peaches said and grimaced.
Again.
Definitely caught his sly “two”. Now for her “three” and “go”.
“After you lost our rock-paper-razors game,” Asher said, “Ms Elf Champion of Rock-Paper-Razors.”
“Sheesh,” Peaches said, “You never change. Only get worse. You can’t protect me if you’re too busy ogling my chest. Three’s even monsters with ogle worthy chests.”
Said while perking her ample chest amplefully forward as if emphasizing none of that chest was fakefully enhanced by her bra or its heart-shaped cups.
She even giggled sinister. “Maybe I’m one of them now.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance for that perfect dramatic effect Peaches always loved. No doubt with her superior elf girl hearing and her knowledge of his own lesser human hearing she simply timed perfectly.
Just because she hid those adorable ears within her hair and witch hat … he just knew she was perking them up right now.
Because that strawberry sweet smile of hers did reach those big blue eyes.
A real smile.
“Yeah,” he said, “You’re right. Lightspawn elf girl. Very dangerous. But I would so let you eat me.”
“I know,” Peaches said, “But who said I’d eat you … that way.”
Huh? Wha … she tickled his chin and — ah!
“See?” Peaches said, “Elves can do sexual innuendo too.”
And she flicked her hair for flirty emphasis.
Revealing her ears.
(Perked up as expected.)
The cool breeze of peaches and cream raced his heart so — rock to win but razors it was.
For a second game.