by Sierra Hill
My sex aches for more contact – more friction from him. My body wants to be filled by him and craves the kind of release its never had before.
Van releases me from his grip and pulls back, looking me in the eye expectantly. I have no idea what he’s about to say. And I’m floored when he speaks.
“I want to see you naked…I want to touch you. We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he says, his voice raspy like he’s been chain smoking. “I just need to feel you. I’m dying here.”
Yes, yes, yes.
I’d do anything for Van right now.
While I’m not sure how comfortable I am being totally naked in front of him, I also don’t want to seem like a prude or a Nervous Nelly.
Instead of responding verbally, I grab hold of the dress sleeves and yank my arms up and out before I can second guess myself. I’m momentarily blinded as I slip it over my head. When I finally meet Van’s eyes again, they are darkened with lust and I can feel their heat as he peruses over my skin. Thanks to Kady’s help, I’m wearing a matching pink panty and bra set, with the clasp in the front.
I take a fortifying breath and reach to undo the clasp, but Van’s quick reflexes stop me. I shoot my eyes to his and he gives me a sly smile, shaking his head.
“Let me.”
Oh, okay.
His hands have a slight tremble, which is so endearing, as they fumble a little, but get it unfastened in relatively short order. With the flick of the clasp, the cups fall open, my boobs spill out in front of Van’s face. It takes every bit of confidence I have to keep my hands from covering up my chest. But one glance into his eyes – the dark spheres that are hazy with appreciation and lust – and I capitulate.
My nipples harden as both his hands reach underneath to palm my breasts, squeezing them with reverence. I just about die from pleasure. His fingers – a little rough with calluses – scrape over my highly sensitive nipples and my body convulses in shivers. I feel so wanton as he kneads my flesh, bringing one nipple into his mouth to suck.
Holy cow…I never knew my nipples were so sensitive. Ripples of pleasure run through my back and down spine, hitting me square in my throbbing clit. I roll my hips forward, which only intensifies the feeling when he sucks my breast farther into his mouth.
His wet tongue flicks the small orb, as his other hand continues squeezing and playing with my other breast. We both moan in unison. His erection twitches between my legs, so I begin to move faster without much grace or finesse. I’m trying to chase this achy, throbbing feeling away with every forceful connection between us.
All of a sudden, I’m consumed with the need to feel my skin against his. I grab a fistful of his shirt and yank it up, unintentionally breaking the connection he has with my breast. He jerks his arms out of the sleeves and I whip it over my shoulder, as he resumes his devotion of my breasts. His body is bowed over me and I bend backwards, his arm slung solidly around my waist to keep me from falling, while allowing him room to devour me.
Due to the friction between us, I’m close to falling in another way. Over the edge of oblivion. I’m close to that precipice and don’t quite know if I should continue. I’m worried that he’ll expect sex, and I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for that quite yet. But I’m scared to say anything. I don’t even know what I’d say or how to communicate what I want and where the line is drawn.
Instead, I run my hand between our bodies, pressing against his bulge and fingering the elastic waistband of his shorts, hoping he’ll get the picture. His eyes widen in confirmation, yet he may not understand my full intent.
So I bite the bullet and spit it out.
“Can we…um, can we leave my underwear on?”
He agrees without saying a word. With no preamble, Van flips me over and pulling down his shorts in one smooth move. I’m actually a little shocked by his stealthy-fast moves as I land on my back, legs spread eagle, as he wedges himself on top of me. The warmth of his skin touching mine is exquisite, like the tropical trade winds of Hawaii licking over my body.
It’s then that he aligns himself to my center, and his steely cock gliding against my cleft as I shiver from the pleasure. If it feels this amazing through the protective barrier of my underwear, I wonder what it will feel like when there’s nothing between us? Just the thought alone has me reconsidering my decision. But this feels great, too. My body is certainly ready for him to make a woman of me, but my heart and brain are a bit more hesitant.
One step at a time.
Van bends down and kisses me hotly, groaning feverishly into my mouth, as he continues to bump and grind on top of me, each time drawing out an erotic grunt. God, it’s so sexy. He’s so sexy.
I reach for his butt, taking hold of his muscular ass and pushing him harder into my center. Apparently I need it harder and faster because I’m almost there. He changes tactics, as his lips leave my mouth and move to my neck, sucking at the tendon below my earlobe, causing even hotter sensations to spiral and swirl between my legs.
And when he bites my earlobe between his teeth, I go off like a rocket to the heavens.
I have no idea what I scream in the moment. I’m sure it’s all mumbled gibberish. I’m temporarily blinded by a burst of white dots from behind my eyelids, my body being taken away on a wave out to sea. I barely register the low, resonating growl that Van lets loose, as he stills above me, his head buried in my neck, and I’m flooded with the warmth of his release across my silk panties.
Van collapses along my side, his breath coming out in sharp, quick spurts. My own heartbeat is hammering against my chest and I’m filled with the most serene sensation. It’s such a heady feeling knowing that I made the guy I’ve been crushing on for months come all over me. In fact, it makes me insanely happy.
Curiosity sends my hand down to my belly to touch the evidence of his orgasm left cooling on my skin. My finger investigates the pooled moisture, swirling it around in a circular motion, making doodled artwork across my abdomen.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his breath hot against my ear. “Didn’t mean to get you so messy.”
“I like it.” I admit softly.
Van groans and flops on his back, his arm crooked over his face.
“God, Ky. You’re going to be the death of me.”
I’m not sure what he means, but I certainly hope it’s a good thing.
14
Van
Christmas at the Gerard household can be a crazy, chaotic time. My parents have always gone all out in celebration, inviting family and friends from their church over for big, elaborate dinners.
Tonight is no exception. My mom has the ham in the oven and I’m chopping up celery to add to the stuffing. Dougie sits at the table playing a video game, while Christmas music wafts from the Bose speakers. My brother loves holiday tunes – and although he can’t sing along with them, he bangs his hands against the table in time – his own way of toe-tapping. I glance over my shoulder at him and smile, turning back to see my mom at the stove smiling, as well.
My parents are devoted members of their church and are very big believers in practicing what they preach. I can’t recall a time when our Christmas dining table wasn’t filled with at least three or four people who had nowhere else to go. Whether they had no family in the area, were going through hard times, or were recovering addicts – it was irrelevant. My parents welcomed them with open arms.
It made me proud that they cared for people in that manner. They could have turned into very cynical and angry people after Dougie was diagnosed. It’s not been easy for them to watch their firstborn son go through the horrendously debilitating disease of cerebral palsy. Dougie is now completely confined to a wheelchair, has limited mobility with his hands, and requires round-the-clock care to ensure he’s fed, bathed, clothed and his bio needs are handled. He requires assistance for caring for himself in every way because his motor functions are so lacking – ways in which others take for granted. Where I am able, he is incapable. Li
fe isn’t fair.
My mom’s voice reaches me over the sound of the music and Doug’s raucous noises. “How’s school going, Donavan? How’d your finals go?”
I finish chopping the rest of the stalk and throw the pieces into the pot of melted butter, wiping my hands on the dishtowel next to me.
“Good, I think. It was a pretty easy semester, honestly.” I shrug, returning to the pot on the stove to stir the contents.
“I’m glad,” she says, drawing in a deep breath. “I know you were going through a lot that last month with Lyndsay. I was worried about you.”
My parents obviously know that we broke up, but they don’t know the entirety of the situation. No one else knows Lyndsay cheated on me and is pregnant. When we broke up, she begged me not to mention it to anyone. She hadn’t decided what she was going to do or when she’d tell her parents, so I promised I’d keep it under wraps. And aside from Cade and Kylah, I haven’t told a soul.
My mom stops what she’s working on and turns to me, looking up at me with concern.
“We always liked Lyndsay, don’t get me wrong, Van. But we thought you both were too young to commit to each other so fully. I think it’s a good thing you have some choices now.”
I know the underlying message is about sex. My parents, while not naïve, do not approve of premarital sex. Lyndsay and I were always careful not to fool around at my house, and I took great pains in keeping the details of our sex life under wraps. My dad was much laxer about it, since he was the one who had to have the ‘talk’ with me when I was sixteen. He didn’t go into the actual details about sex, but discussed his expectations that I should always respect my partner. That sex should only happen when love is present and a commitment has been made. And outside of that, abstinence should be observed.
Which winds my thoughts back to the other night with Kylah.
There’s a pang of guilt for letting things go that far with her. I don’t want another relationship this soon after my break-up. For that reason alone, I had planned to avoid anything sexual and remain friends with Kylah. But when I saw how distraught she was over her mom, and how she broke down in my arms, I couldn’t help myself. Believe me, it wasn’t out of pity that I did what I did and kissed her. I’ve wanted Kylah for months. My resolve be damned.
Honestly, I was elated to finally let her know just how much I wanted her. It felt like the weight of a thousand-pound boulder was lifted off my chest when I wrapped her in my arms. Once I kissed her, there was no turning back. Screw our friendship. Fuck the fact that we’ll have to hide this thing from Cade. I wanted her so badly, I would’ve sold my soul to the devil just for one taste.
The problem now is that my thoughts are consumed with her. Wanting more of her. We didn’t have sex with penetration, but we crossed the line and there’s no turning back now. I know it’s just a matter of time before things progress further.
And there lies my conundrum.
Do I let it continue? Do we start dating in secret so her brother doesn’t find out?
Or should I squash my feelings for her and end it before it even starts? Before I do something to screw it up and she gets hurt.
I’m so confused and torn over this. What I definitely don’t want is for her to think she’s a rebound fling. If I wanted a rebound, I would have fucked a hoops hunny without a care in the world. But that’s not who I am. I care for Kylah more than anyone and just want to protect her.
Well, fuck her. Then protect her.
So that leads me back to my mom’s concerns over my well-being.
“Everything’s cool, Mom. Don’t worry about it. I’m in a good place right now.”
I’m not ready to divulge anything about Kylah, especially to my mom, who’d be curious and would start poking me with questions. She is right about one thing – I do have choices now. My path, however, seems to veer toward Kylah. This connection we share is so strong – like some sort of Jedi mind trick – with a pull like the tractor beam on the Death Star. It’s been leading me toward her since we first met. Even before I knew I liked her.
We finish getting dinner ready and I help serve our guests, as everyone around the table talks and chats amiably. I sit next to Dougie and help him with his dinner, giving my parents a break to enjoy their own meals. My heart is full, but I’m missing something. I want to share this with someone I care about. Someone like Kylah.
She’d mentioned that Christmas Eve they’d spend at their dad’s condo, but she didn’t think Cade would be joining them, so it would just be her and Kady. I guess the rift between Cade and Mr. Griffin hasn’t been fully healed yet – although I know they’ve been working on it. She mentioned that out of the three of them, Ky has remained closest to her dad after the divorce.
As I spend time with my parents tonight, I can’t imagine what it would be like to have them separated. How different and lonely it would feel not having them both in the same room – hearing their laughter and enthusiasm for the holidays as they share it with others. I’m a very lucky guy and they’ve set a find example for me to live up to.
We have great family dynamics, despite the fact that Dougie is the way he is. Regardless of the workload that goes into caring for Dougie, none of us would have it any other way. He’s a beautiful part of this family. I wish I could be more like him, because nothing ever gets Dougie down.
He’s been my cheerleader on the sidelines ever since I started playing basketball in the third grade. He’d cheer, and yell, and pump his fists in the air – smiling the big, broad, toothy grin of his that made other people around him smile, too. As we got older, it made me sad to see the way people stared at him. How they talked behind his back and made fun of him. It hurt me to know that people could be so cruel and intolerant of things they didn’t understand.
As we grew older, I became very protective of Dougie, who was two years ahead of me in school. Although he had limited mobility, he had mild cognitive impairment, meaning that his brain function was at a high functioning level so he could learn and excel at school with the help of student aids and electronic communication devices. There’s no doubt that when someone like Dougie attends a public school, there are going to be ignorant assholes who make fun of him. And they did.
I was a sixth grader in middle school the first time I got into a fight defending my brother’s honor. We were in the cafeteria and Dougie was having a meltdown at another table because his para-assistant wasn’t doing something right, so he was babbling loudly. He did that when he got over-excited. On this one occasion, his hands flapped wildly as the para tried getting his lunch set up on the tray in front of him. Dougie’s flailing hands must have hit the tray and sent the food sailing across the floor.
A boy in my grade sitting at the end of the table made a comment to another kid about Dougie being “a loud-mouthed retard” – and I just lost it. I jumped from my seat, came up behind the kid, pushed him off his chair and onto the floor, and started wailing on him. I had never been an aggressive boy and was taught by my parents to always turn the other cheek. That’s all well and good in theory, but that boy deserved to be taught a lesson. And so did the kids sitting around him at the table, all laughing at my brother’s expense.
I learned a valuable lesson that day. Thankfully, I was given leniency by the Principle because I was a good kid who’d never gotten in trouble before. My parents, on the other hand, grounded me, taking away all my TV and video game privileges for a month and in place made me volunteer down at the local mission, cleaning up the bathrooms and kitchen messes.
The lesson learned, however, was that I will never change someone else’s thoughts, actions or behavior by beating them up. That goes without saying. But I did learn that it feels pretty fucking good in that moment when you’re giving someone a bloody upper lip. Just saying.
Technically, that was the one and only fight I’d been in over Dougie. As we all grew older, the kids in our school began to accept him – especially my junior and senior high school basketball teamm
ates. The last home game of my senior year of high school, they all made a special banner for Dougie, commemorating his contributions to the team. The coach also added Dougie to the roster that last game, threw a jersey over his head, and let me wheel him out on the court to shoot a basket. I’ve never seen Dougie smile as big as he did that day. His laughter and animated motions made it all worthwhile.
He’s grinning from ear-to-ear now, too. All our guests have gone, leaving just the four of us in front of the tree. The Christmas lights blink in multi-colored unison, the fireplace flickers its radiant heat, and the tooting sounds of the train circling underneath the tree stand gives Dougie reason to laugh. He loves that fucking train.
My dad reaches underneath the tree to the presents stashed in the back. Handing one to me and another to Dougie, he prefaces the gift by saying, “It’s not much this year. You’re both at an age now where it seems kind of frivolous.”
I nod my head in agreement, glancing over to my brother. “You go first, Doug. Let’s see what Santa brought you.”
A loud exclamation comes from his throat as he rips into his package. He holds it up like a trophy, reveling in the joy of receiving the latest video game. For having limited use of his hands, my brother can use a video game controller like no one’s business. If his body wasn’t restricted by this horrible disease, I know with one hundred percent certainty that he would have been an amazing athlete. Quick reflexes and a determined focus.
I take a peek at that labeling, even though I know what game it is, since I helped my dad pick it out. It’s an Xbox Minecraft game. He is a whiz when it comes to building and creating things. His brain has a capacity for hugeness, if only his body didn’t limit him. In some way, it’s like he can build these worlds using this game where physical limitations mean nothing, and he can actually be free from his body’s constraints.