by Lindsey Hart
“Okay.” It’s lame, and I know I should do better, but I can’t think of a single thing to say, so instead, I lower her to the bed.
I stretch out over her, spreading her legs that she’s already parting with one knee. When I lower myself down, I’m careful not to crush her. She squirms eagerly against my knee, and her panties did little to hide how wet she is, or how hot. She grinds against my legs and whimpers. My dick appreciates her eagerness very much, but I’m not letting the fucker off that easy.
This is not a once and done. This is not…well, I don’t exactly know what this is, but I know I don’t just want to spend five minutes with Steph (who am I kidding, it would be more like five seconds) and have it all be over.
Her nails dig into my shoulder, bringing me back and driving me forward. I kiss her until I can’t breathe, then I break away to pay homage to the sweet porcelain skin of her neck. I kiss her and taste her—all of it. The saltiness of her sweat, the earthier tastes of the dried spray from the lake, the wind and the sun, and the elemental richness that is all her.
I kiss her breasts, swirling my tongue over her nipple without taking it into my mouth. I scrape my teeth over one bud, and she jerks violently.
“God, Adam,” she hisses. She drags her hands through my hair, raking her nails against my scalp.
I kiss her flat stomach, running my tongue over the slight edge of her pelvic bones, lapping at the flat center between. She has abs. And not because she’s built like celery, as she told me people used to say, but because she is healthy. She’s petite and small but still curvy. She’s beautiful and womanly in her own way. Sensual, sweet. I love that she’s small. I love her breasts. I love her dark, pert nipples. I love the slope down to her hips, that gentle curve. And I even love her plain black panties. It’s sporty like the bra that I tore away.
She’s perfect. I want to find all those guys who called her a celery, all those doctors who asked her rude questions, every single person who has ever made her feel less than absolutely perfect and give them a nice warm pair of socks. Yes, socks. A, it would be making me money, which seems entirely ironic, and B, maybe they need a nice pair of socks. If you’re wearing a nice pair of socks—ones that are comfortable, warm, and feels like a hug—then it’s hard to be an asshole. Clearly, they needed socks.
I brush my fingers over her panties. They’re warm and soaked. The rich scent of arousal swims through the air, and when it reaches me, I see stars again. My cock throbs while my balls feel heavy and painful. I want this. I want Steph.
“Yes,” she whispers as if she knows what I’m thinking. That’s probably obvious, even in the dark. “Please, Adam.”
She lifts her hips and tugs her panties off, giving me permission. I help her, sliding them down her thighs gently, not tearing them off like a crazed animal. Even though it’s dark, I can see that Steph is smooth, wet, and glistening.
Socks. Socks are calming. I need to think about socks—the next pattern, the next color, and the next cutting-edge kind we could develop. I need to calm down.
But seriously, no amount of socks is going to help me. Not when I want to taste Steph. Not when I want to have my tongue there, between her legs. Not when I want her writhing and bucking against me, screaming my name.
“Adam?”
“I…” I have nothing to say. Clearly, Steph takes it the wrong way.
“You know, you’re too self-sacrificing. Sometimes, it’s too convenient to do nothing.”
I realize she’s talking about this. Us. The lines. Something about the company. Something about us not doing this.
“I just... I don’t want to lose you,” I say softly.
There’s silence. Thick, thick as the smoothie that you make in a blender. Even thicker. Thicker than the fog you can’t see through, and thicker than the blackest night. Then Steph sighs.
“I’m not going anywhere. You should know me better than that. Besides, finding another job is a lot of work. I’d just rather not.”
“But if…if this doesn’t…”
“If this doesn’t work, I’m still not going anywhere. I’m not edgy, and I’m not a hater. I’m not someone who wants to make someone else pay. I’m not someone who lives in the past and has all these regrets and moans about them all the time and brings them up. I’m not someone who just can’t get on with it even if it does not work out. You should know that.”
“I…”
“Everything we said before was true, everything like your fears and the company. I know you’ve been used in the past—used and treated badly. I know it hurt you and scarred you. I know all about it. And I promise I would never do that to you, no matter what. I would sign anything that needed to be signed, and I would never take something that wasn’t mine. I would never be mean to you just because it gives me some perverse satisfaction. You’re not a bank account, and you’re not a freaking machine that spits out money for me. I don’t need things. I’m quite happy with what I have right now, minus the roof on my house, which really needs to be fixed. I like quiet things, like reading and gardening. I like thrifting, garage sales, plays, libraries, markets, craft shows, that kind of thing. I really am easy going even if I’m too blunt a lot of the time. I was always taught that it’s best to be honest, which has gotten me into so much trouble in the past because people like to be lied to, and I just can’t seem to grasp that. But it also means I couldn’t be here right now and tell you I’m something I’m not. I have no aim here. There is no end goal. I didn’t think anything like this would happen…”
“But you know me. You know all about me. You’ve looked after me for so long.”
“When you say it like that, it’s not very sexy.”
“It’s sexy,” I correct. “Maybe not sexy, sexy, but it is meaningful. Special. You’ve always been there, and I’ve been too up my ass to see you.”
“What an expression.” Steph’s lips tilt.
“You know exactly how I’ve felt.”
“Not really. I was wrong about a lot of it, but you corrected me that night in the tent.”
“But you’ve always been there. When I’m with you, when I kiss you, when you touch me, I…well, I don’t know how to tell you how I feel. But it’s different, different in a good way. Like we fit. Like anything might actually be possible.”
Steph reaches for me then. She cups my cheek and brushes her finger over my lips. “Anything is always possible. I really want to believe that’s true. I think that without hope, life is pretty bleak.”
“Do you feel like that too? Like even though we said we shouldn’t and couldn’t, that this feels like we can because it’s just right?”
“I don’t believe in fate. I believe in choices, decisions, and hard work. I think we could do whatever we want. We didn’t want to before because everyone has fears, and everyone has a past. Everyone has wounds and scars. Most people want to make sure what they’re doing doesn’t hurt anyone else, which is admirable even if it is a little misplaced.”
I let Steph guide me back to her, and I let her kiss me. Gently, erasing past hurts, and letting her touch and words flow through me. She’s so much more than socks, so much more comforting, calming, and gentle. She has my heart in her hands, and she could do anything with it, but I know that like socks, she’ll never betray me. She’ll never suddenly turn thorny and full of barbs, never be vicious or vengeful. I trust her, and I want her. I want this. This trip has given me hope, Steph has given me hope, and she’s made me feel like I can do the impossible.
To trust again. To trust her.
Maybe even feel again. But I already do feel something. Something that takes up all the room in my chest.
“I want you,” Steph pants against my mouth. “It’s scary for me to admit too, but I do. I want you, and I don’t want to stop. I want to do everything with you. I want to touch you. I want to learn what you taste like. And I want to make you feel good.”
She could say she wants me to pleasure her, that she wants me to make her come,
that she wants me to learn all of her. But no. She wants to make me feel good. She’s not thinking about herself, as usual. She’s thinking about me.
I don’t know why that should make my head spin or my chest ache. I should know by now that this is Steph. Selfless, caring, wonderful, sweet, and compassionate Steph.
“Me too.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “All those things. We have time, but first, can I taste you?”
“I like that you ask me,” she says, stroking my jaw. “That you respect me enough to even think of asking.”
“I just don’t want you to…to do something you don’t want to do. I know this changes a lot of things. That it can, that it will. I just want you to be—”
“I am.” Steph crushes her lips to mine. “I want you. I want you very badly. Possibly worse than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
“Good to know,” I whisper against her mouth.
I decide to stop talking. I think I’ve said enough. Awkwardly, but she knows. I know she knows. When she kisses me and pulls me into her again, I go, not because I’m lost but because I actually know who I am and what I feel.
CHAPTER 17
Stephanie
I’ve never felt truly safe with another person. I’ve never actually been able to just give myself up completely. But all that is not true with Adam even though I’m usually nervous, worried, and worried about looking silly—about my boobs not being big enough, my butt being too flat, and about just not being enough.
Now, I have zero thoughts about any of that.
When Adam breaks away, and he trails kisses over my breasts and down over my belly, I just feel bliss. Sheer. Radiant. Bliss.
He keeps going lower, loops his hands beneath my legs, and brings his face right there. He doesn’t hesitate even though he does take his time. He doesn’t go in for the kill like I’m an all-you-can-eat buffet without actual feelings and sensations down there. His tongue is gentle, and he tastes me sweetly, kissing me, and taking his time exploring and savoring me like I’m something magical.
I don’t know if I’m magical, but I know what he’s doing is. I have to bury my hand in his hair and grasp the sheets with the other. I wish my hips would stay on the bed, but they won’t. They keep writhing up into his face, grinding against his perfect mouth. He hasn’t shaved in two days, and the shadow of his stubble rubs against my sensitive skin, burning me, but it only adds to the heightened sensation. It’s a nice contrast, rough and sharp compared to his mouth.
Adam circles his tongue over my clit then sucks it into his mouth. He’s gentle, but my whole back still comes right off the bed. My hips basically clash into his face, and he runs a finger over my seam. He’s gentle, so very gentle, but when he traces the same pattern with his tongue, which is also gentle, it’s still hot. Hot as in a thousand degrees hot, and hot as in my hips grind hard into his face again.
He tastes me, groaning as he dips his tongue into my entrance. The moment he does, I’m right there, just a second away from shattering. My nerves are on the verge of being burned off, and everything throbs. Everything comes alive. Shivers travel up and down my spine, and I tug hard at his hair and practically rip the sheets right off the bed.
His tongue swirls over me again, and when he suckles my clit, he claims me this time, suckling hard and pushing his tongue against it in circles that create dazzling stars behind my eyes. I can feel the heat coming—the shivers spreading from my toes up into my thighs. I can feel the tingles starting in my lower belly, and I can feel all those cool, icy pinpricks pooling lower and lower until they burst into white-hot heat.
“Adam, oh god, I’m com—” I don’t get the rest of the words out before the pleasure hits, and I can’t say anything at all.
All I can do is moan and writhe beneath him as the waves rock me. I come so hard that I don’t just see the light; I feel like I’ve turned into a burst of light myself—a ray or a beam traveling across the universe and all over the world, here and there all at once, just a shivery, wavering mass of particles.
I shamelessly ride out the pleasure, and Adam keeps giving it. He doesn’t stop until I reach down and gently push his face away because it’s that intense, and I just need a few seconds. I tug him back up to me, slightly embarrassed that I just practically blacked out because I came so freaking hard that the world just about ended for me, in the best way it could ever actually end.
I kiss him hard, tasting myself on him. I whimper into his mouth and part my legs, wrapping one around his strong, muscled hip, and bending the other so that he fits. He’s so much bigger than I am. His shoulders feel massive, his chest seems harder than concrete, and his legs are so freaking long and thick and strong, they’re like tree trunks.
And then he lets himself down fully, supporting himself with a hand by my head, but I feel him—all of him—throbbing in my stomach. I saw his cock, so I know it’s big. That it’s really big. That it defies the word big, or maybe it defines it. I want to touch and taste him just as I said. I want to do all of it, all while knowing we don’t have time. That there’s this heated desperation between us now—this frantic want, this throbbing need.
Not now, but later. Because there will be a later, and this isn’t a one-off. This isn’t one of something that gets called a mistake again. This is Adam and me, moving forward. This is us taking a chance on us, on feeling something, and on really letting go and not being so afraid. There is no holding us back now.
I want to do everything with him. I want to do him. Everywhere. It’s surprising because I’ve never actually been a very sexual person. I mean, sex is fine, but I really could have taken or left it. I don’t remember ever feeling anything like this—this crazy want and this need to have Adam under my skin, in my veins, and inside me. I meant what I said about wanting to make him feel good, and I want to give him that—that part of me. To give him something I’ve never really given anyone. I’ve had sex before, obviously, but I don’t think there’s ever been a time where I’ve ever given up control or given up, willingly, all those bits and pieces of me.
I have never truly let another person in.
Not the way I want to let Adam in.
And not that kind of in. It’s not just physical. Even though at the moment, it’s really seriously physical. Maybe it’s because it’s more that this feels so good. So right. So real. So amazing.
When I run my hand over Adam’s huge shoulder, even though I’ve been touching him now for a few solid minutes, it still shocks me a little to feel how soft and silky his skin is over all that muscle. He reciprocates, brushing his hand over my hip and caressing me until his fingers protectively splay out over my hip bones, stomach, and ribs. His hand is that big that it hits all of me. I shiver at his touch and curl into him. I love the way he throbs against my stomach even if I would like that throbbing to be somewhere else, somewhere closer to all the places I’m throbbing.
“I don’t have a condom,” he says like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
I can feel myself flush a little, but yes, this is what people do talk about in real life. “I’m on birth control. I have an IU in.” It might be embarrassing, but he needs to know, and I shouldn’t be embarrassed. He doesn’t make me feel embarrassed; I’m just naturally shy.
“Is it alright then? Is this okay?”
“Yes.” I wriggle underneath him a little. “Yes, it’s okay.”
He brushes a soft, tender kiss across my lips that makes the hair on the backs of my arms stand up and all the throbbing in my lady bits get much more intense. “The last thing I would ever want is to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” I lick his bottom lip.
He groans, the hard length of his cock pressing a little harder into my belly. He shifts, moving away before coming back and bringing his rigid length where I want him most. I arch into him, and then he’s really back, crushing his lips to mine. I kiss him back while I try and spread my legs a little bit more. Adam’s huge, and I know it’s probably going to hurt, at least at first,
until I get used to him, but that thought only makes me kiss him harder and wriggle just a little more. I raise and tilt my hips up just a little higher and rock ever so slightly against him in silent supplication.
I can feel him tremble above me, but I think it’s more of a vibration that comes with trying to keep self-control from slipping away.
I finally gather enough courage to grip Adam’s bottom, the bottom I’ve been admiring since we arrived on this trip. His hips clench, and I ache. The throbbing is turning into something worse, something indescribable. I need him. I’m empty, empty in so many ways. And he fits. I know he’ll fit. I know we’ll fit. Perfectly.
I can feel the head of his cock now, nudging me open, so I tilt my hips up, moving with him, letting him know I’m okay. That I want this, I want this badly, I’m going to be okay through all of it, and I’m going to be so much more than that. I let him feel how badly I need him. How wet and slick I am, how ready.
He groans, and his head dips down near my jawline. I thread one hand through his hair, holding him there while I place the other on his shoulders.
He’s pretty careful and slow. But the result is that the fire he creates by sliding into me, spreading me wide, so wide that it hurts, torturing me, makes me nearly delirious.
I gasp and writhe against him. He pushes in slowly, so slowly. He vibrates above me again, and I know how hard it must be for him to stay in control of himself, to go slow. I don’t exactly want slow either, but it’s necessary for the moment. And it’s no less devastating. I’m already shaking too, spiraling out of control. I can feel all the heat building just from having him inside me a little bit.
“Adam,” I groan.
“Are you okay?” He freezes.
I wriggle some more, opening up to him. He’s not moving, but I can feel him throbbing inside me now. It’s incredible, mind-blowing, and clit-blowing. I think he could destroy me with a single stroke.
“Yes,” I whisper next to his ear. “Yes. So much yes.”