Spider + Cat + Redhead Ch. 12

"They have very high standards," Peter sniffed.

He poured more tanning oil onto her bare back, started rubbing it into her silky skin. His hands felt good on her flesh, especially with the slow way they moved up and down from her shoulders to her skimpy thong. With her belly buried, her back on display, she felt sexier than she had in a while.

"They let Justice in," Felicia replied.

"He's a great guy!"

"I'm just saying. There are like a hundred super teams out there, but how long did it take for you to join one? You had a clone and he joined a team before you. You could've at least signed up for X-Factor..."

"I'm not a mutant!"

"Neither is Namor. Or Juggernaut. Or Mimic—"

"Okay, how much of a nerd are you? Be honest. Should you be wearing Star Wars T-shirts?"

Felicia murmured softly as Peter's hands kept up their movements, massaging her flesh gently, almost too lightly. She shifted her shoulder, finding a more comfortable pressure on her chest. Seeing her, you'd think she'd been lulled to sleep by Peter's rubdown, but Felicia was wide awake, her eyes open behind the dark sunglasses. She was watching the people, taking in the varieties of bodies, of skin, of intimacy in the couples and families.

None of them were as attractive to her as Peter, even with his slender musculature so easily hidden by a few layers of clothing.

With a sigh, Felicia shifted her position again, parting her long legs, digging her toes into the hot sand.

"I don't want to pressure you," she heard Peter say softly.

"You're not," she replied lazily.

"It's just that it's like you're pressuring me..."

"By not having sex with you?"

Peter worked his hands up and down her back. "By not doing what you want so you can prove a point."

"Mad we stole your game?"

Something about Felicia's bold-faced confrontation, her provocateur act, heated Peter up. It wasn't quite anger, wasn't quite lust. It was knowing that she could press his buttons and he couldn't even bring himself to mind. His hands now shook slightly as he continued to rub oil into her flesh. He kept looking at her ass, the backs of her thighs, not realizing his breathing was getting louder.

"It's not about what I want, it's about what's best for us, all of us. Suddenly being a family—a family with two kids—"

"Peter, we've always been a family, we just haven't admitted it. And if it's not about what you want, how come you're trying to talk me into giving you what you want?" Felicia smiled frostily at him. "Or is it what you need?"

She'd heard Peter's breathing, knew the sound well. She didn't feel embarrassed. On the contrary, she bunched and squeezed her ass, knowing Peter was watching, wondering if he was getting a hard-on, wanting to take a peek at him. She flexed her cheeks, spread her long thighs, purred softly as Peter's touch grew firm on her.

"I don't care whether you have sex with me—"

"Uh-huh."

"I don't care that much whether you have sex with me—"

"Uh-huh."

"Damnit, I just want you to be happy! And if you're going through some crazy scheme to get me to agree to this, then clearly you're invested in it!"

"Of course I'm invested in it, Peter, it's a baby, not a time-share. Rub harder, please. Really get in there."

She wasn't really so high-minded. She wanted Mary Jane to have her baby, believed it would be best for Peter to be a father from the beginning instead of stewing in his mistakes—but part of Felicia just wanted to see Peter break down and fuck MJ like he only did when he'd been pushed to the limit.

Her body writhed with the mental image, her cunt vibrant. She felt Peter's hands running over the backs of her thighs now. Her breath caught. His hands really did feel good, so very good—she could feel the power in them that had him climbing walls all day. And he was moving them slowly, up and down, from her knees to her buttocks, never quite touching the swell of her ass. Or seeming to, but roaming over the insides of her thighs instead, making her cunt respond with torrid heat.

Forgetting about the crowded beach, Felicia raised herself on her elbow and glanced at Peter. He did. He did have a hard-on. It pressed at the front of his shorts and made a substantial movement with its throbbing. And, knowing she was watching him, Peter slid his hands up and down Felicia's satiny thighs, almost panting with excitement. Now the edge of his hand moved a little too high along the innermost curve of her thigh. Felicia gasped as she felt his fingers press at the crotch of her bikini, then jerk away quickly.

Felicia's breath was hot as she slipped a hand from under her head and moved it onto Peter's thigh. She held her breath as she slowly stroked the firm muscle there. Peter was staring at her hand, his own resting on Felicia's thighs, as if waiting for her to start so that he could reciprocate.

Felicia didn't even try to resist. She had to touch it. The tips of her fingers pressed in, found his shaft, and Peter's mouth opened in a silent gasp. His hands tightened on her thighs. Felicia reached up the leg of his shorts and—there he was. There he was.

She felt the heat on her body, felt it between her legs, listened to Peter's heavy breathing. She made herself a promise that when Peter finally broke down and fucked Mary Jane, she would be there, letting him hold onto her no matter how much it hurt, feeling the pressure as it mounted and released...

God, she could just picture it, see it in a wet kind of fire between her legs. She imagined Peter's cock hard, his fist pumping, Mary Jane leaning back to catch his load in her mouth, her slim leg spread open, her pink cunt already full of cum...

Felicia moaned, her body pressing in on itself, pressing in on the small, but very nice orgasm that opened like a fist inside her sex. She felt Peter's hands pause on her thighs. He'd seen the sudden clutching of her ass, her thong drawn up even further into the split of her ass to expose essentially all of her creamy buttocks, the fabric itself lost between the voluptuous cheeks. She might as well have been naked now, the rippling and contracting of her ass fully exposed.

Leaning over, Peter glanced quickly at Felicia's crotch. He saw a few white hairs curling from the tight band—a trace of moisture.

"Hungry?" he heard Mary Jane say.

Peter turned around to see MJ returning, Jonathan in his carrier, three ice cream cones deftly held in her hands. He watched as Mary Jane's little pink tongue moved about the twist of cream atop her waffle cone, neatly ladling away a helping of homemade vanilla.

Felicia got up, holding her top over her heaving breasts, and took the cone MJ offered with her other hand. She took a bite out of it.

"I have to go pee," Peter said bluntly. He started across the hot sand, toward the vending stands and the parking lot.

Mary Jane nonchalantly sat down beside Felicia, brushing sand from her legs. "This ice cream tastes soooo good," she told Felicia, just loud enough for Peter to overhear.

Peter didn't go to one of the toilets. He kept going.

A moment later, something exploded and there were robots.