Falling into Us

by Jasinda Wilder

Page 56

 

  “Good to know,” I breathed.

  His fingers were inching toward the joining of my thighs, and I was struggling to hold out, to not spread my legs for him and beg him to touch me. Instead, I ground my backside against him, sliding up and down his rock-hard length. I wanted it, but I wouldn’t give in. He had to break first, or I’d never hear the end of it.

  I was still covering my ni**les with my hands, and Jason tried to nudge my hands out of the way. “Uh-uh, buster. You know the rules. Underwear, then you get to touch. ”

  “Oh, that’s the rules, huh? Since when?”

  “Since right now. ”

  He pressed his lips to my shoulder in a kiss, then across to my spine and down, down, each kiss sending trembles through my body, shivers along my skin. He was kissing my spine as he slid out of his underwear, and then I felt them settle on my head. I squealed and brushed them off.

  “Gross! I don’t want your sweaty boxers on my head, you jerk!” I spun in place, glaring at him.

  He was laughing, and he used my momentary distraction to reach up and cup my br**sts, which I’d released as I planted my hands on my hips to accentuate my irritation.

  “I win,” he said.

  I tried not to gasp when his thumbs brushed over my ni**les. “No…you…don’t,” I moaned. “I let you…”

  “Let me what?” He had the hard-beaded peaks pinched between his thumbs and forefingers, rolling them until I was unable to think.

  “Let you…win. ” I had to take the control back, I knew I did, but his hands knew all too well how to keep me distracted, and then his mouth descended to my br**sts and laved hot kisses over my skin, and I was gone, unable to prevent myself from arching into his mouth. “Oh, god, don’t stop. ”

  “No? You like that?” He paused his oral attention to smile up at me, smirking, knowing I’d given in.

  “Yeah, you know I do. ”

  “You want more?” I could only nod and remind myself to breathe.

  We’d both been so buried in schoolwork that this was the first chance we’d had to make love in over a week, and we were both desperate. I needed more, and he knew it, but he wanted to hear me say it.

  “Yes, I need more,” I whispered, holding his head against me, fingers tangled in his hair.

  “What else do you want?”

  I sucked in a breath as he pinched my nipple in his lips and stretched it away from my breast, releasing it with a pop. I had to take back some kind of control. I racked my brain, and then smiled to myself as I came up with a plan.

  “Take me,” I murmured.

  He slid up my body, his erection stuttering against my thigh and resting hot and hard against my belly. He pulled me against him, kissed me, and bent to lift me in his arms, intent on carrying me to the bed.

  I pushed him away. “No, not there. ”

  He frowned in confusion. “Then where?”

  I turned away from him, facing the door once again, and stood with my palms flat on the door, feet wide, bent slightly at the waist, head turned to watch him through a curtain of black curls. “Like this. ”

  “Oh, f**k. Are you serious?” His hands gripped my hips, paused, and then curved over my backside.

  “Like this, right now. ”

  He reached between my legs to trace a finger through my damp folds, dipping his middle finger into me, sliding up to circle my clit. “I lied,” he whispered, taking his erection in his hand and guiding himself to my entrance. “You win. ”

  “Don’t you forget it,” I said, and then lost capacity for speech as he slid slowly into me, burying himself deep and deeper, until his hips were flush against my ass.

  One hand on my hip, the other sliding up my back, he drew slowly out, then pushed back in, groaning. He thrust twice, then three times, and I nearly lost it right then, nearly fell over the edge just from the bliss of him inside me, but I struggled to hold it back. I wanted to go with him, wanted to feel my walls clench around him as he released.

  He started to move faster, and even though that was exactly what I needed in that moment, I slowed him with a whisper. “Not so fast, Jason. Slow down. As slow as possible. ”

  He halted mid-plunge, sliding in the rest of the way in a glacially slow thrust. “Like this?” He pulled back at the same pace, so slow it was barely movement.

  “Yes,” I gasped. “Just like that. So slow. ”

  “Why?”

  I tweaked my nipple with one hand, sending a bolt of lightning shooting through my body as he slid back in. “So I can feel every inch of you as long as possible. ”

  He reached up to cup my breast, rolling my nipple between his middle fingers, pinching almost too hard at the same moment that he impaled himself in me. I gasped, ducking my head as the impending climax washed over me, built up within me. I felt his orgasm nearing as well, evidenced by the shuddering, spasmodic slide of his shaft into me.

  He began to lose control of his pace, gripping both hips in his hands and driving himself in, jerking out and groaning as he slid in again. I loved it when he lost control. I loved being able to do that to him, make him feel so good he couldn’t hold back. I had to move then, lifting up on my toes and driving down to meet his thrusts, bending lower and pushing away from the door with my hands, letting him drive me forward with increasingly powerful thrusts. Soon the room was filled with the slap of flesh against flesh and our joined sighs and moans, and then I felt my body clamp and spasm, a hot judder of pressure unleashing inside me, climax detonating within me. I bit my arm and screamed into my flesh as I came, and I felt him tense behind me, his fingers digging into my hips.

  “God, Beck, you feel so good like this,” he growled.

  I couldn’t respond—I could only whimper and shove myself against him as he slammed into me, frenzied now and thrusting harder than he’d ever done before. I heard him growl, and then he pulled back, paused, and thrust, the hardest yet, and I couldn’t stop a cry from escaping me as he buried himself in me, slapping against me almost painfully, but not quite. It never took much to set me off, but feeling him lose control completely then, slamming into me again and again, groaning with each thrust, taking me for his own…that set me off a second time. The slap of flesh, the way he buried deep, stroking against me just right, his fingers in the hollow of my hips, pulling me against him…I came again, unable to stifle my cry this time.

  “Oh god, oh Jesus,” I whimpered, going limp and boneless, only his body and hands holding me upright, but still fluttering my backside against Jason’s hips as he continued to thrust, lost in his own impending climax. “Are you gonna come now?”

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  “God, yes. Right now,” he groaned.

  He thrust home one last time, and then I felt the hot gush of his release inside me and I cried out as he pressed himself deeper and deeper, not thrusting but crushing himself against me as he came, gasping my name over and over again.

  When he was still, I pulled away from him and stumbled to the bed, collapsing onto it and pulling him with me. He fell in next to me, burying his face against my br**sts and sighing. I held him there, feeling his scratchy stubble brush the soft skin, feeling our pulses hammer in tandem.

  “You really liked it like that, didn’t you?” I asked, after several minutes of restful silence.

  He nodded. “God, yes. I kind of lost it there at the end, didn’t I?”

  I giggled. “Yeah, you kind of did. ”

  He twisted to peer up at me, concern on his features. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  I shook my head. “No, baby. You can f**k me hard anytime you want. ”

  He laughed and rolled over on top of me. “I can? Really? I knew I was being too rough, but I couldn’t stop. I’m s—”

  “Don’t apologize. I said you didn’t hurt me. I liked it. I’m serious. ” I scratched his back and rubbed his backside with my feet, pulling him
closer.

  “Next time I want you on your hands and knees,” he said.

  I quirked an eyebrow at him. “You do, do you? Doggy style, huh?”

  He ducked his head. “I hate that term. It sounds degrading. ”

  I shrugged. “I don’t care what you call it, but yeah, we’ll do that next. ”

  He grinned and slid against me. I felt him hardening already, and I reached down between us, taking him in my hand and stroking him into a full erection. He tried to push into me, but I shook my head, grinning at him. I pressed the tip of him to my clit and circled it, using his thick, warm flesh to stimulate myself, slowly at first but with increasing fervency, until I was arching my back and moaning. Through slitted eyes I watched him tense, holding back, the motion of my hand on him as I pleasured myself with his c**k bringing him to desperation.

  I came hard, biting his shoulder to quiet my breathless shriek of climax. When the initial wave had rolled over me, I crammed his hot flesh into my opening and clenched my legs around his waist so tightly he couldn’t move. I rolled my hips, grinding mine against his, clamping down with my vaginal muscles as hard as I could, my body slick against his, my sweat mingling with his, my mouth seeking his lips and whispering “I love you” into his groan, milking my orgasm. When the shudders had slowed, I relaxed my hold on him and let him pull out partway, and then held him in place, smiling into our kiss. He was close, too, but I wasn’t ready for him to release yet. I was greedy for another orgasm, determined to milk it from him before I let him come. He knew what I wanted by now, and instead of merely plunging deep immediately, he thrust shallowly, lifting his hips to slide his length downward into me, his hardness pressing against my clit with each slight motion. I moaned into his mouth, feeling a second climax coiling inside me.

  “I thought you said I could have you the other way next time?” he murmured, grinning.

  I shrugged, smirking saucily at him. “I lied. You’ll have to wait. ”

  “Not nice. ”

  “I’m nice all the rest of the time,” I told him. “I don’t have to be nice in bed with you. This is when I get to be bad. ”

  He pushed in against me, but I moved away from his thrust to keep him from thrusting deep. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Keeping it shallow. ”

  “Why?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just doing what feels good. Making you wait. ”

  He slid his arms beneath my head, supporting his weight on his elbows. “Then I’ll have to wait, I guess. ” His playful grin went serious. “I want to do whatever makes you feel good. Whatever you want, baby. ”

  I clutched his hard ass and urged him to move. “And that’s why I love you. Well, one of the reasons. ” We found a rhythm together, meeting in the middle of each shallow thrust, teasing both of us.

  “What are the other reasons?”

  “Fishing for compliments, are you?”

  He smirked, his face tensed, betraying his concentration. “Yep. Shamelessly. ”

  “Well, I love you for the way you make love to me. I love you for your body. I love you for being possessive of me and taking care of me. ” I paused to slide my eyes closed as he adjusted his weight and inadvertently found my sweet spot with the gently thrusting tip of his erection. “Oh, god yeah, just like that, right there. Don’t stop…oh, shit that feels good. ”

  He moved into me in a series of quick, shallow thrusts that had me arching desperately against him, fingers clawing into his lat muscles. “Any other reasons?”

  I laughed breathlessly. “Hmm. I might love you for your talent with a camera. I especially love you for what you do with your tongue. I definitely love you for loving me despite my speech impediment. ”

  “Which is pretty much gone now. ”

  I nodded, unable to speak as my body began to be rocked by earthquake shudders. He didn’t increase his pace or his depth, though, and I loved him for that, although I couldn’t summon the words to say so. He stayed shallow and quick, driving the waves of climax up into sharp peaks of ecstatic bliss, not breaking over me yet, but still building with each slight push of his erection against that wonderful spot he’d found. I felt my chest tighten, felt my heart swell, and I met his eyes, seeing a depth of love in his vibrant jade gaze that brought me out of mere physical orgasm and into the desperate, weeping clinging of overwhelmed love.

  Long moments passed, and the climax continued to build, and I grew frantic for the break of the orgasm, gasping against his arm, whimpering when he dipped his head to suckle one of my br**sts. That was all it took, the hot wet pull of his mouth over my taut nipple. I cried out, uncaring now who heard.

  “Now, Jason. I n-need it, n-now!” I stammered, panting against his ear.

  He groaned in relief and thrust deep, hard, letting his weight settle on my body and crashing deep into me. “Oh, god, Becca, oh…I’m gonna come so hard…”

  “G-g-ood…give it all to m-me. ” The only time I ever stuttered anymore was when I climaxed with Jason, and he seemed to make it his personal goal to make me come so hard I lost my fluency.

  He kept his mouth on my breast, teething my nipple gently and pushing deep, but softly, lovingly, moving sinuously in long, perfect strokes.

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  I came, and let myself fall into it, a tear sliding down my cheek and my body freeing itself of my control, writhing against Jason as he unleashed inside me, whispering my name over and over again in a chant of release.

  We held each other, letting school and away games and everything vanish for a while as we drowsed together. My last thought, though, before I fell asleep with Jason’s heartbeat in my ear, was of Nell, and how to help her.

  ELEVEN: Calm Before the Storm

  Jason

  April

  I scribbled the last few paragraphs of my essay test into the booklet, closed it, checked for my name at the top, and then gathered my backpack over my shoulder. I dropped the test on the professor’s desk, returning her nod as I left. That was my last final for the spring semester, and I knew I’d killed it. Of course, Becca had been instrumental in helping me study for it, as she was instrumental in every aspect of my life. She was still taking hers, I knew, since she was the kind of test taker who would finish first but would go over every answer one by one before she turned it in. I never had that kind of patience. I’d answer the last question and turn that bitch in, while Becca would usually be the last person in the classroom. I stopped by my dorm room to drop off my backpack, grabbed the duffel bag I’d already packed, and hopped in my truck. I sat in the parking lot closest to Becca’s last final exam location, my iPhone plugged into the aftermarket stereo Becca had given me for Christmas. “Ten Cent Pistol” by The Black Keys came on, and I jammed out to it, followed by one of Becca’s songs, “The Blower’s Daughter” by Damien Rice. I didn’t like a lot of Becca’s acoustic, folksy, artsy-fartsy music, but there were a few songs I liked, and most of Damien Rice’s music met my approval, this song in particular, especially when Becca sang it. She tended to get lost in it, eyes closing and the words sounding so sweet in her lovely voice. She claimed she wasn’t very good at singing, and she’d never sing for me intentionally, but I’d turn on songs I knew she liked and listen to her surreptitiously.

  I saw her then, an old hoodie of mine with a “V” cut into the neckline showing a sliver of dark skin, her hair bound loosely at the nape of her neck, tight black yoga pants making me horny just by the way she walked and the sight of the tiny keyhole gap between the swell of her thighs. She wasn’t looking yet, her attention on the phone in her hands, making plans with Nell, most likely. I snatched my camera out of the bag, flicked it on, and zoomed in on her, catching her in a perfect candid moment. My breath caught when I saw the picture I’d taken of her: Her face was framed by a loose lock of springy black hair, a tiny smile on her face as she laughed at some secret thought. The sun was behind her to the left,
rays slicing past her and bathing her in late afternoon gold. My hoodie was loose around her, but her br**sts still pressed against the gray fabric, and the curve of one hip was popped out as she took a swaying step. The lighting of the photograph lent it a washed-out look, and I could already see what filters I’d apply in Photoshop to make it look even more vintage.

  I put the camera away as she approached, since I knew she hated pictures of herself, for some stupid reason. I knew it, and I generally respected her dislike of photos of herself, but every so often I snapped some in secret, just because I couldn’t help myself. I actually had an entire album in my closet dedicated to stolen pictures of her. No one but me had ever seen them, and I planned to keep it that way. Especially the one I’d snapped of her getting out of the shower. That was probably my favorite photograph ever. She had a white towel pressed against her chest, draping down to barely cover her front. The generous swell of her ass was in profile as she leaned back, her chest pushed out, her free hand slicking her hair back. She had her weight on one leg, the other slightly bent in a classic pose. Her throat was bared, her spine arched, and her eyes shut, and I don’t think she’d ever looked so beautiful as in that single moment.

  She hopped into my truck and leaned over to kiss me before even saying hello.

  “How’d your exam go, babe?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Good, I guess. It was for my anatomy class, which I’ve already taken, but the credits didn’t transfer. Glad to be done. You?”

  “Aced it, thanks to you. ”

  She shoved her backpack on the floor at her feet and buckled up. “Nah, I just helped you study. You already knew your shit. ”

  I backed out of the parking spot and navigated out of the campus into Ann Arbor, stopping at her dorm so she could grab her duffel bag and bungee it in the bed of the truck next to mine. “Why do we always take my truck when your car is so much nicer than this old piece of shit?” I asked, apropos of nothing.

  Becca just shrugged. “Habit, I guess? I love your truck. I have so many memories in this thing that I’ll probably actually cry when you finally replace it. ”

  “I’m with you on that. The first glimpse of your body I got was in this truck. ”

  She snorted. “Is that all you ever think of?”

  “You know you’re just as bad, Beck, and don’t even try to deny it. ” I twined our fingers together and squeezed her hand. “What memories were you thinking of, then?”

  She didn’t answer right away. “You’re right, damn it. ” She smirked at me. “I was thinking of making out with you by the tree. All the conversations we had in this truck? We made all the biggest decisions of our lives in this thing. ”

  She glanced sideways at me, and I knew something dirty was coming.

  “What else?” I prompted.

  Her eyes flicked down to my zipper and back up. “I was thinking of Winter Formal, sophomore year? How we were messing around and you ended up coming into a T-shirt?”