Love You Better

by Brit Benson

  He hoists me up farther and closes his mouth around my nipple, sucking it through the thin, silk material of my bra. His tongue dampens the fabric, and his hot breath permeates through to caress my breast. Then he bites down, making me cry out in pleasure before moving to the other.

  My panties are soaked, and I’m rubbing myself on him brazenly, pressing my center into his body and rolling my hips in an attempt to relieve the pressure between my thighs while he sucks on my nipples. He groans and moves his mouth back to mine. Tightening his grip on my butt, he presses me more firmly against him before lowering me down and then dragging me back up so that his erection is rubbing tortuously between my thighs. Even through our clothes, I can tell his length is impressive and rock hard, and I need to feel him on me without the barrier of clothing.

  I shove my hands between us and snag the band of his jeans, ready to rip them off of him, when we fall backwards onto the bed.

  How did we get here? Has he been moving this whole time?

  I yelp on impact with my favorite sheets, then giggle when we bounce a little on the mattress, and I can feel his smile when he covers my mouth with his.

  He raises up on his knees and pulls off his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him, then lowers himself back over me. His hands on either side of my head, his biceps straining to support his hovering form, and like a magnet my hands are drawn to his chest.

  I run my palms roughly over his pecs, then down to his abs, taking the time to run my fingers through the ridges and grooves that define his sculpted six-pack. When I start to trace my fingertips over the deep V at the bottom of his torso, he lets out a shuddering breath and attacks my lips once more. He plunges his tongue into my mouth, then bites my lower lip, tugging slightly on it.

  “Can I take off your bra?” he asks against my mouth.

  “Take off your pants first,” I force out, trying my darndest to be seductive but likely just coming off as lecherous and desperate. Oh well. His responding chuckle vibrates through my body and goes straight to my already throbbing clit.

  I watch with rapt attention as he stands from the bed, that infuriating smirk that turns me molten on his lips. I’m a quivering mess of raw desire and he’s over there exuding confidence and cocky sex appeal. He’s a god, and I am a lustful supplicant worshiping at his altar. Ugh, and I’m not even mad about it.

  I raise up on my knees and set my gaze on his big hands as his dexterous fingers unfasten the button on his jeans. Slowly, painfully slowly, he drags the jeans down his powerful legs. Then he’s standing before me in a pair of grey boxer briefs, his erection, long and thick, outlined scandalously against his muscular left thigh.

  I’m gawking.

  I can’t pry my eyes off his lower half, and when I bite my lip, his groan is tortured and sinful. I flick my eyes back to his and raise a brow, daring him to keep going. His eyes burn, and as he moves to take off his boxer briefs, I reach up and unhook my bra. Both articles of clothing fall at the same time, his hard length jutting forward proudly as my nipples pucker even more from the cool air.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and I reach my hands out, beckoning him to me.

  His erection bobs with each step, and when he is within reach, I grip his shoulders and pull him on top of me. His lips close over mine for one deep, sensuous kiss, and then move down my jaw and to my neck. He sucks hard on the tender flesh there, then laves his tongue over the hurt. His teeth graze over my collarbone, nipping and scraping, and then move once more to my breasts.

  Kelley sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, assaulting it with his tongue and teeth while teasing and tweaking the other with his fingers. Then he releases my nipple from his mouth and moves to suck on the other. I’m kind of impressed by his determination to pay them equal amounts of attention, and I would giggle if I weren’t so worked up.

  When he starts moving his mouth down my body, dipping his tongue into my belly button, I start to squirm with anticipation. Just the idea of that tantalizing, talented tongue on my most sensitive parts has me teetering on the edge of sanity. After he slips his fingers under the band of my leggings, he makes eye contact with me in silent question, seeking permission.

  He’s perfect. How did I not see it sooner?

  My heart melts, and my voice is shaking with both need and admiration when I answer him.

  “Please, Kelley,” I whisper desperately, and he pulls my leggings down, taking my panties with them.

  “I’ve been dreaming about this pussy,” he says as he drags his fingers over me, through me. “God it’s even better than I imagined. Pink and perfect and fucking glistening.”

  He slowly brings his eyes to mine, as if dragging them away from the view between my legs is painful.

  “Who made you wet, Ivy? Who did this to you?”

  “You did.”

  “Say it again,” he growls, his eyes back on the apex of my thighs.

  “You did, Kelley. You made me wet.”

  My voice is a strained whine, and he moans when he lowers his body and licks me from top to bottom.

  “I want to lick this pussy till you come all over my face.” He slips one finger inside, and when I clench around him, his groan is deep and husky. “You gonna let me tongue fuck this pussy, baby?”

  Holy dirty talk.

  His naughty words make me clench harder around his slowly thrusting finger. I never would have guessed strait-laced Kelley Pierce, the guy who reads books with my twelve-year-old brother and teaches social studies to middle school students who think of him as a hero, would have such a filthy mouth. It’s the best surprise. I freaking love it.

  He slips a second finger in and I cry out. “Yes, Kelley! Please.”

  He wastes no time descending upon me. His hands spread me wide, so I am completely and utterly exposed, and he flattens his tongue against me and licks me slowly from end to end before closing his mouth around my clit and sucking. My entire body shudders, and he hums his appreciation against me. The erotic sensation shoots straight up my spine, and I thread my fingers through his hair so I can pull him closer.

  “Up and down,” I force out, and he immediately obeys, flicking his tongue rapidly against my clit while his fingers thrust in and out of me. It feels amazing. It’s never felt this good before, and soon I’m rolling my hips against his face, pressing into him, riding his tongue and fingers.

  He moves his arms to my thighs and spreads me wider, then slips his tongue into me and begins rubbing up and down on my clit with his thumb. The sensation ricochets through me, tensing all of my muscles, curling my toes.

  “I’m going to come, Kell,” I cry. “Oh fuck, Kelley, I’m going to come.”

  And he stops.

  I snap up onto my elbows to find him staring at me from between my legs. The sight is erotic but infuriating. His face is surprised, and his grin is elated with boyish glee.

  “Why did you stop?” I screech out, breathless. He laughs, and I smack the bed at my side.

  Am I going to cry? I might cry.

  My body is on fire, the tension and need for release bordering on painful. This orgasm tease is going to bring me to tears.

  “Kelley!” I whine and my sexual frustration is evident.

  “Did you just say fuck?” he laughs again in disbelief.

  “What?” What!?

  “Did I just make Ivy Rivenbark say fuck?” His stupid smile is huge and adorable, and I want to throw a pillow at him, but I don’t think I can reach one.

  Oh no he did not stop, right when I was on the cusp of orgasm, because I said a cuss word.

  “Kelley. Now is not the time,” I scold. “If you don’t make me come right now—”

  He cuts off my threat by launching a double assault, his mouth and fingers thrusting and massaging, sucking and rubbing. I moan, low and long, threading my fingers back through his hair.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” I chant in sync with my hips, rolling against his face. “Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.�
�

  His chuckle sends me over the edge, and my body bows, arching my back and attempting to clamp my thighs shut. Kelley presses on them more firmly with his arms and continues to rub and lick and thrust until I’m trembling.

  “No more. No more,” I cry, and he slips out from between my legs and props himself up beside me.

  When I finally open my eyes, he is staring down at me, his grin a sexy combination of pride and awe.

  “Craft fucking beer,” he says, shaking his head with a small smile.

  “What?” I ask with a laugh. That’s random.

  He shrugs, and then leans down to kiss me. I suck on his lower lip, tasting myself on him. It’s heady and thrilling, and I never want it to end.

  Kelley deepens the kiss, sliding his hand into my hair, and I turn on my side to hitch my leg over his hip. I want him, I want this so badly, but when I feel his naked length brush over my bare center, the panic starts.

  It comes on quickly and with no warning. One minute I am floating blissfully, and the next, I’m plummeting. The skin on my scalp starts to prickle, sweat dots my upper lip, and my heart races for a new, more dreadful reason.

  No, no, no. Not now. Not with him.

  I try to force myself to be calm, to get control of my body.

  I tell myself that I’m safe, that this is Kelley, that my fear is unwarranted. But my frantic mind doesn’t hear the logic over the sound of the blood rushing through my ears. I’m trying desperately to hold myself together, but I’m cracking from the inside out, my control fracturing into fragments that I can’t grasp.

  Why didn’t I do my grounding exercises? How could I possibly think I could get through this without them?

  God, I am so stupid.

  I let my guard down. I was careless.

  The anger I feel toward myself swells, taunting the anger I feel about that night and that person. That person and night that broke me and turned me into...this.

  I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

  I can’t even have this, this one night with this one man who means so much to me. Fury and anxiety war within me. I go over the Attorney’s Oath in my head and pray to whomever is listening that I can make it through this without him noticing. And maybe, with any other man, I could have hidden it.

  But not with Kelley.

  “Hey,” he whispers, running his hand down my arm lightly. “You okay? You’ve gone all stiff on me, and your eyes are clamped shut.”

  “Yeah,” I push out. My voice is strangled, and I want to cry with frustration at how pathetic I sound. Of all the nights for my body and mind to rebel... “I just need a minute.”

  He’s quiet for a moment, and then he starts to play with my hair.

  “Is this okay?” he asks as his fingers thread through my soft strands, and I focus on the sensation. The loving caress, the way it makes me feel cherished and solid and safe.

  “Yes,” I say on a sigh. I switch from reciting the Attorney’s Oath to thinking about Kelley.

  I focus on now, this very minute. How his fingers are in my hair, how he is the epitome of strength and kindness. I think about Wednesday and the thoughtful date he planned, his heartfelt confessions. I picture the way his hair flops to the left when he’s gone too long without a cut. The way he gets positively giddy when he hits a new running personal record. How he makes sure to call Jacob once a week to catch up. How he speaks passionately about teaching and fondly of his students.

  Everything about Kelley that I can recall, I focus on, until my breathing is no longer labored, and my heart is beating steadily.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I don’t want to feel ashamed or embarrassed, but I do. This vulnerable side? This condition that I’ve yet to fully understand—that I may never fully control? I don’t want Kelley to see it. I don’t want him to treat me with kid gloves.

  “It’s okay,” he says earnestly. “We don’t have to talk about it, but I’m here if you want to. When you’re ready.”

  Those words hit me hard.

  He has been here, hasn’t he? This whole time, supportive and patient, until I was ready.

  Even when it looked like I may never be.

  “Thank you.” My voice cracks and I stare at the ceiling.

  “You don’t have to thank me,” he whispers back. “You want to be my little spoon?” I can hear the smile in his question, and I find myself smiling back.

  “Yes, please.”

  17

  When the tension in Ivy’s body is gone, and I can tell whatever the fuck just happened has passed, I let myself relax. I don’t know why it happened, but it was terrifying. My best friend was in agony, and I could do nothing to help her.

  I want to ask about it. I want to know what triggered what I am pretty certain was a panic attack, but I don’t want to make her talk about something if she doesn’t want to. It fucking kills me that there is something huge in her life, causing her turmoil, and I don’t know about it. But I have to trust she’ll tell me when she’s ready.

  It’s that thought that spurs me to suggest we play our old game.

  “Ask me a question or tell me a secret,” I whisper playfully in her ear. She gasps and turns to me. The smile on her face reassures me that I made the right call.

  “We haven’t played this since, what, 11th grade?” She rests her cheek on her folded hands and tangles her legs with mine.

  Question or Secret was Ivy’s and my personal version of Truth or Dare growing up. The rules are simple—you choose to either tell a secret about yourself or ask the other person a question. Questions have to be answered honestly, and secrets are open to follow-up questions, which also have to be answered honestly. We also agreed to allow each other to “pass” on questions if we wanted, but neither of us ever used the pass.

  “Summer before 11th grade. At the last summer slumber party we were allowed to have.”

  “To be fair, I’m surprised our parents let it go on for that long.”

  “Me too.” I chuckle. “You wanna go first?”

  “You go,” she says quickly, then scrunches up her nose.

  “Ok, I’ll go for secret.” I lower my voice, my heart pounding. “Freshman year was the first time I had sex.”

  Ivy snorts a laugh. “That’s not exactly surprising, Don Juan. I’ll admit it’s a bit earlier than I would have guessed, but it’s not really a shocker.”

  “Freshman year...of college,” I amend.

  “What?” She snaps up to a sitting position. “But you were always dating. And Shelby hinted to everyone who would listen that you guys were having full-on penetrative sex.”

  I sit up to mirror her position, then shrug. “Shelby lied. We barely made it to third base.”

  “Wait, so no penetration?” I smirk at how clinical she is.

  “Nope. Well, not with my dick,” I joke, but she’s too surprised to notice.

  “But...but what about that argument in the lunchroom? You said...you suggested...you offered to loan me your condoms.”

  “Yeeeeah,” I drag out. “I was an immature douche. I was a seventeen-year-old virgin waiting for love. You caught me off guard so I kind of panicked and then lied.”

  She grows quiet. “So... prom?” She looks at me with a newfound understanding in her eyes.

  “I...” I shake my head. “Ivy, I am so sorry for what I said to you that night. You have to know I didn’t mean any of it. I was fucking stupid and heartbroken, and fuck, I said some terrible shit. I didn’t mean any of it. I am so, so sorry. You have no idea how sorry.”

  “I know, Kell. I forgave you a long time ago. We were young and dumb, and it was a situation neither of us fully understood.” She shrugs. “There are...there are so many worse things. I’m not going to waste my happiness on something as trivial as a juvenile high school argument.” I heave a sigh of relief, and she changes the subject. “So, what changed? With sex, I mean. Or did you...” She hesitates. “Did you fall in love...?”

  I consider my options. I could pass. I c
ould keep this shame a secret, and I’d never have to suffer through the embarrassment or her disappointment.

  But...

  If I want this to last, her and I, then maybe there shouldn’t be any secrets. And that means I have to tell her everything.

  “Not even close,” I say quietly. “I just stopped caring about it. Lost myself a bit. Went kind of crazy.”

  I glance at her, concern and confusion etched all over her face.

  “I started drinking a lot. Fucking my way through campus. I don’t even remember the first time. My grades tanked. I lost my soccer scholarship ‘cause of it. That and showing up to practices blitzed off my ass.”

  “Oh my gosh, Kelley,” she whispers, and we share a look that I hope expresses the truth of my freshman year behavior. How I lashed out because she was gone, how guilty I felt for pushing her away...

  I consider continuing, laying it all out at once, but the pain in her eyes stops me. Too much, too soon.

  I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear and whisper, “your turn, Ives. Ask me a question or tell me a secret.”

  She takes a deep breath and forcefully puffs it out.

  “I was in Bowen for freshman year of college, and the summer before. I went to the community college near there and lived with my aunt.”

  “I knew that, actually,” I admit.

  “You did? How?” Ivy isn’t upset, just surprised.

  “Preston actually told me two weeks ago when we were back home. When I saw him on my Sunday run.”

  “Preston knew? Huh. Curse small town rumor mills.” She laughs sardonically, and I steer us back on course.

  “So, you have an aunt?”

  “That I do. My dad’s sister. Ugh, it’s this whole big thing, and I didn’t know any of it until the summer after high school. Remember how I told you my dad was killed in a car accident?”

  “I remember. Drunk driver.”

  “Welp, apparently, he was actually the drunk. And he was on his way to see his mistress. My mom never had much of a relationship with my aunt, and her marriage to my dad was not a good one, so after he died, she cut all ties.” She shakes her head and scoffs. “I lived in the same town as my aunt for years and didn’t even know she existed.”