by Dizzy Hooper
When I'm done, the dark circles under my eyes stand out like bruises. My complexion isn't perfect, but whatever. If Corey's scared of a few pores, he can show himself right to the door.
I don't think he will, though.
Taking a deep breath, I head back out there.
Apparently anticipating the same end game configuration that I did, Corey's settled himself on my bed. He was considerate enough to drag the covers up so we won't be lying on the sheets. With his head on one of my pillows, his jacket off and deposited on the chair by the window, he's spread out, long and gorgeous atop my comforter. The laptop sits beside him by his hip.
He looks to me as I walk in. I brace myself, but all he does is smile. "Better?"
"Yeah, lots."
It's fun to get dressed up sometimes, but Corey called me out with deadly accuracy. It's a front.
And at least for tonight, I don't have any walls left.
I pad over toward Corey and lower myself to the other side of the bed. I consider sitting up against the wall, but who am I kidding? After fluffing up the pillow a little, I lie down. There are inches between our bodies, and they somehow feel like both not enough and entirely too much.
Unlike at the bar, there's nothing on the air except his warm, male scent. Heat radiates off of him.
But the arousal humming through me is a quiet one. It simmers, low and patient.
He turns his head to look at me. "So I narrowed it down. What's your poison? Cheesy action movie or romantic comedy?"
I draw my brows together, surprised he would even suggest the latter. Then again, he's got that soft bro thing going on. He'd probably be totally okay with the chick flick if I picked it.
A movie about kissing and reinforcing gender stereotypes really isn't what I'm feeling right now, though. "Action."
He grins. "Cool."
He clicks on a tab open to whatever he's picked out. It's part of one of those big franchises, but it's not one I've kept up on. "Uh…Do I have to have seen the other thirty-seven movies?"
"Nah, this one is basically a standalone." He sits up. "Want me to get the lights?"
Well, that sounds like a terrible idea, so of course I say, "Yeah."
He hops up and hits the switch. The glow of the laptop screen is the only thing lighting the room, and instantly, the whole place feels smaller. When he settles back in beside me, exactly where he was before, he feels closer.
Through the dimness, he peers over at me. His eyes shine in the reflected light, the deep irises liquid and deep. "You ready?" he asks.
For what, I'm not sure.
But all the same, I nod.
25
I'm pretty sure things happen during the movie. There's a plot and characters and explosions and everything. But if you asked me afterward, I wouldn't be able to tell you a damn thing about it.
I spend the first half keenly aware of the warmth buzzing between Corey's body and mine. I'm still idly freaked out by the domestic simplicity of the moment, just hanging out with a guy on my bed, watching a movie, swimming in sexual tension but not…acting on it.
That's weird, right? It seems really weird.
Finally, I settle in. I just don't have the attention for both the stuff happening on screen and hum buzzing under my skin. I relax into my pillow, turning onto my side. Corey smiles and shifts closer, too, not taking his gaze off the screen.
And it's comfortable. Too comfortable. The fatigue that always comes the day after a twenty-four hour shift starts to pull at me. I'm emotionally exhausted, too, after all the twists and turns of this date. My eyelids get heavier and heavier, until eventually I let them drift closed—just for a second, I swear.
The next time I open them, the room is silent. I blink a couple of times, willing my vision to come into focus. The laptop is still on, the credits for the movie rolling.
Shit. I was out for at least an hour, then.
My pillow lets out a slow breath, and I blink even harder, then dart my gaze up.
Okay, then. Yeah, at some point in that hour, I apparently decided that Corey's shoulder would make a more comfortable place to rest my head than my actual pillow. I want to squirm or maybe jerk away, but he's looking at me with these soft, warm eyes.
More awareness prickles through my body. Corey's arm is wrapped around me. He's kept his hand to purely innocent places, resting it at the dip in my waist. His fingertips gently trace the strip of skin between the hem of my hoodie and the waistband of my pants. I shiver at that soft touch, that teasing heat.
I swallow, aroused and tired and uncertain about any of this. I stretch a little, but I don't look away.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to pass out on you."
"It's fine." His fingertips stop their idle movements, and he smooths my shirt back into place, covering me up. Even through the shirt, I can feel the heat of his hand, though. "More than."
And there's a promise there, an invitation. He asked me to let him in, and I brought him home. I fell asleep on him; hell, I wouldn't be shocked if I literally drooled on him. He radiates this quiet delight with all of it, like he enjoyed it, like he'd be completely content if all I wanted to do was lie here with him forever.
My heart squeezes, and it's all a little too much. I turn over slightly, just enough to glance at the clock. I sigh, twisting back around to him. "It got late."
"Yeah…" His throat bobs. "Do you want me to go?"
The invitation remains in his voice. Maybe he really does want to just stay here, curled around me in my bed.
But is that what I want?
It's intimate as hell. Weirdly enough, I actually think I'd be all right with it.
My insides hum louder at the thought of it. The space between my legs is a warm buzz, damp and hopeful. My nipples are piqued, and yeah, we could just stay here, exactly like this, but I don't know that I'd get anymore sleep. My skin is hot, everything tingly, anticipation hanging over me.
Looking at him, I search his gaze. He's calm, expectant. Waiting on my decision.
But there's a tension underlying all that easy repose. I take in the rest of his body, from the smooth skin at his throat to the lines of his chest beneath his shirt.
The unmistakable bulge at the front of his khakis.
My pussy throbs harder, and yeah. I want to find out what's under those starchy clothes. I want to touch and ride him hard.
But I also want to kiss him. I want his hands on my body. I want things I haven't let myself even consider in so long, and he seems so ready to offer them to me, so open.
My throat tight, I tip my head back. I reach out, putting my hand to his chest so tentatively, half expecting him to push me away, but he doesn't. The insanity of our whole position strikes me. I've done all kinds of filthy things in my life—hell, I've done a bunch of them this week. But here I am, my palm against this guy's heart, and it's giving me shivers all the way to my toes.
Emboldened, I drift my hand higher. His pulse is hot beneath my touch, his jaw ever so slightly rough with stubble. I graze my fingers over his cheek.
And then gently, so gently, I lean forward. I press my mouth to his.
It's the softest, most grazing touch. It's the kind you see in teen romance movies, the kind I always guess I thought I'd have when I was in school, except that I ended up skipping a couple of bases. He answers the kiss with just the same light pressure.
I pull back and look to him with a question in my eyes. "Is that—I mean, we don't have to. I'm not trying to use sex to push you away this time, I swear."
"Then what are you trying to do with it?"
Is he even for real?
I try to give his question the consideration it deserves. In the end, all I can do is shrug. "I just feel really close to you right now." I chew the inside of my lip between my teeth. "Do you feel close to me?"
His eyes shine. His voice cracks. "Yeah, yeah, I do."
Any hesitation still lingering on him melts away as he takes the initiative this time and presses forwar
d.
Cupping my face with his palm, he leans in for a slow, wet kiss. I give myself over to it, letting his tongue press past my lips. It slides against mine, but the motion is soft, undemanding.
And consuming in its own way.
An unspoken tension remains inside me as our mouths move against each other. I keep expecting an acceleration or for him to ask for more. Maybe he's waiting for me to take the next step, but when I scrape my teeth against his bottom lip, he gentles me—not a rebuke or a rejection, but he's firm in his pace.
And that's…freeing, somehow. I begin to relax, muscle by muscle, losing myself in the intricacies of how a tongue can move, how he tastes. Heat grows and banks inside me, but I let it flow on past.
Times goes taffy slow, stretching out into infinity, and maybe I could spend all of it right here.
Have I ever spent so long on kissing? On foreplay that I'm not even sure is going anywhere? The me of a few weeks ago who went at it with two guys on a bathroom floor is lost, directionless, and for the moment, I don't care.
It's luxurious, grounded, connected.
And at the same time, I swear to God, I'm floating.
"Heidi," Corey breathes, and I smile against his lips, incandescent.
He grins, too, and there are teeth. This time, when I nibble at his lip, he doesn't stop me. I nudge myself in closer to his body, drawn by his heat.
My eyelids flutter. His khakis hold more than just a bulge now. He's as hard as he was out on that dance floor. He groans as his length brushes my hip, but I don't press. There's no filthy grind.
Things do speed up a little, though.
With gentle pressure, he rolls me over onto my back. I go happily, my mouth open to his continued exploration. Still lying at my side, he runs his palm down to my hip and then back up again, sliding it beneath my shirt.
The touch of bare skin on skin is fireworks going off, nerves lighting up at every point of contact. All I can reach of him is the back of his neck, so I touch him there, running my fingers through the fine hairs at his nape.
"Do you want to…?" He pushes my the hem of my top up a fraction, and God, honestly, he can do whatever he wants to at this point.
Enthusiastic consent remains the gold standard, though. I murmur out a yes, and sit up to push the fabric up and off. As I do, he shoves the covers down to the foot of the bed.
He groans as my naked chest is revealed. I remember almost too late that I forgot a bra, but then I'm glad. Kissing me again, he glides his hand down my throat and through the valley between my breasts. When he cups one of them, my mind blanks. How does that feel so good?
Anticipation has me on a knife's edge already. Every inch of my body is hypersensitive to his touch. He's confident but not overly so, putting the lie to my fantasy that he might be a virgin, but confirming my suspicion that he hasn't planted too many wild oats.
He pulls away from my mouth after what feels like forever—but in a good way. My lips are bitten and stung, the skin around them raw. I revel in the scratch of his stubble on my throat. He looks me in the eye as lays me back down. Then he drops his face to my chest.
I arch, impossible heat building inside me when he takes my nipple between his lips. My pussy comes alive, the low crackling of desire suddenly flaring into a bonfire. I reach for him, and he puts my hand on his head, letting me steer. I move him between my breasts, but whichever one he isn't tending to with his mouth aches. I spread my legs, but it's idle, I expect nothing.
Only then he puts his hand right there.
My eyes fly open as he cups my pussy through my pants. He shifts his head out from under my grip, kissing down my stomach, and then he's between my legs, and my clit throbs.
Tucking a finger into the waistband of my sweats, he raises a brow. "Can I?"
"Jesus, yes."
He peels the pants down my thighs, taking my underwear with them, and apparently we're done with patience and holding back. He parts my thighs wider, putting my wet pussy on display for him.
And this definitely isn't the kind of sex I was wielding like a weapon back at the bar. This is the furthest possible thing from distancing.
Yet there's still a slow intensity to the way he glides his fingers along my wetness. He traces the lips of my pussy, staring right at my swollen flesh as he does. He spreads me open with intent.
Then he looks up at me. He leans in.
Fuuuck.
He kisses my cunt the way he insisted on kissing my mouth. It's wet and light and soft, and I was already a banked fired suddenly ready to explode. Instead of helping me rise, he explores, fanning the flames without giving me anywhere to go.
I'm so turned on that maybe I could come like this, but there's nothing to chase.
I have to surrender—just like I did to his kiss.
With a whine, I fall back onto the bed. I'm naked and spread out while he's still fully clothed, tucked in between my thighs and eating my pussy like it's the most delectable meal.
And God, but he savors me. I melt beneath the soft sweeps of his tongue over my clit, the brush of lips across my opening. Empty and lost to the endlessness of his assault, I float.
He stays there, kissing and licking and sucking at my pussy for hours, maybe days. I'm starlight, all darkness and shivers of light, my fingers buried in his hair.
"Please," I beg, delirious.
And apparently, that's all I had to say.
Looking at me over my mound, those big brown eyes liquid and soft, he slips two fingers inside me. The sudden fullness makes me lurch. He fits his mouth over my clit, too, tonguing at it with a new intensity. The vastness of my sky narrows, comets shooting across the field as curls of actual, real pleasure shoot through me.
I tighten my grip on his hair, and again, he's happy to be steered. Fuck, this feels insane, pushing him deeper into my pussy, but he goes, licking harder, sucking, thrusting those sweet fingers into that perfect spot—
My orgasm crashes over me out of nowhere. My throat vibrates, a high note bursting from my lungs as I curl over him, holding onto him for dear fucking life as my pussy clamps down. He keeps lapping at my clit through the whole thing, drawing the climax out.
Until finally, it's too much.
I weakly shove him away. He goes willingly, and my eyes roll back in my head at the sight of my wetness on his lips, the glazed look in his eyes. His hair is wild, fluffed up from the way I've been pulling on it while his mouth was buried in my cunt.
I tug at it once more, urging him to climb my body so we're face to face again. He lets his huge, hard cock rub against my naked thigh as he goes, lets his wet lips drag against my abdomen and my throat. He straddles my hips, planting his hands to either side of my head, and I reel him in.
Groaning, I lick my taste from his tongue. He kisses me back with the same artfulness and patience he used on my pussy. A thread of need underscores every nip and suck, though.
And God, I want to give him everything he just gave me. I felt close to him before, and now I feel closer still, but it's not enough. I want everything.
Kissing him deep, I skate my hands down his body. I grip his hips, and he bucks into the touch, so I go for it.
I close my hand around the long line of him through his khakis. He moans into my mouth, and it sounds like dying and it sounds the sex I hope to God we're about to have.
It's my turn to breathe, "Can I?"
"Yeah…"
Bracing himself with one arm, he reaches the other into the space between our bodies, helping me to get his pants undone, but access to his cock isn't the only thing I'm after here. I pull at his shirt, tugging it free. He catches on quickly. Between biting kisses, we get him undressed.
Fuck, his skin is smooth. He's new enough to the squad that he doesn't have the kinds of burns Jaquan and Street and I do. I run my hands over the muscles of his back and along his lean waist, across the defined ridges of his abs.
I hope he never has to wear those scars. That he never has to get hurt like
that, and at the same time, I know what kind of life he signed up for. We all take risks.
But I've got his back. I'm going to protect him the way I protect everyone else on my crew, the way my old crew should've protected me…
Grabbing a handful of his round, firm butt, I force away intrusive thoughts of fires and scars.
He lets his hips fall to meet mine, and I grind upward, reveling in the pressure of his hot flesh against my clit.
He pulls away, meeting my gaze. "I want you so much."
Lights glow inside me. I knew that—I mean, no one eats pussy that brilliantly if they aren't into it. But after he stopped me earlier tonight, it's really, really good to hear it aloud, now.
I smile, soft, dancing my fingertips up his spine to brush his cheek. "I want you, too."
"Should I…" He tilts his head to the side, and it takes me a second to catch on.
And then it hits me like a fifty ton weight falling on my head.
Right. I may not have bothered with condoms with Jaquan and Sal, but that was our decision. It was a risky one. My having unprotected sex with them means it's an even riskier proposition if I tell Corey he can go without. It's not fair of me to keep that from him.
I squeeze my eyes shut tight.
But Jesus, I want him inside. I want the smooth glide of wet flesh on flesh, I want that hot flood of him shooting his come deep inside me.
I force my eyes open and swallow hard. "You don't have to. I'm safe. I mean—I'm on birth control, and the last time I got tested, I was, I swear—"
"Me, too."
"But. I told you. You're not the only guy I'm seeing." Not the only guy I'm fucking, that is.
And I can't bring myself to regret the deep, dirty, filthy sex I've been having with Jaquan and Sal. They've been so incredibly good to me. My connection to them has been one of the best things to happen to me since I moved to this town.
But that doesn't change the fact that this is a good thing happening, here with Corey, too.