by Mae, Amelia
I reach into my nightstand for my favorite vibrator. Because, yes, I own more than one. I turn it on the lowest setting and start teasing my clit, but it’s barely helping. I turn it up higher and higher, expecting to suddenly feel that I’m approaching something satisfying, but nothing.
I need him on top of me, taking control and holding me down and making me feel him. I need that fullness. I need more than this vibrator can do for me right now.
I’m crawling out of my skin with want, like an addict with a craving.
I need my fix.
I fumble around for my phone and try to compose a text to Dylan that is the perfect combination of I hope I didn’t overshare earlier and scare you off and Please let me come over for sex.
Jane: So you left awfully quick. Something wrong?
No. Too insecure. Delete.
Jane: I’m still awake if you want to hang out.
No. Too weird and vague.
Jane: What are you wearing?
What is this? Awful cliches? No.
Fuck it. I’ll just call him.
It’s ringing.
What was I thinking? I just called Dylan Fucking Cotter in the middle of the night and I’m about to, what, proposition him?
I’m hanging up.
“Hello?” he answers. Because, fuck, he answers.
Wait. Who answers a call from a number they don’t recognize?
“Hello? Someone there?”
“Um…” I stammer. “Hello. Dylan?”
“Jane?”
“How did you know it was me?”
“Your accent,” he answers cooly. “And I begged Kelvin for your number, and he eventually caved. I had to swear six ways to Sunday that I wouldn’t use it for evil.”
I laugh.
“So..?” he asks.
My breath is shaky. I’ve somehow gotten myself up and out of bed and I’m pacing about my bedroom as I talk to Dylan. If this phone had a cord, I’m sure I’d be twirling it around my fingers like a nervous teenager.
“Jane?” he asks. “What’s going on?”
“Huh?”
“It’s after midnight.”
“Oh, damn. I’m sorry. Were you asleep?”
“No,” he assures me. “I was just wondering why you’re calling me so late.”
“I…” I start. My voice is so breathy. “Can I um…”
“Spit it out,” he says, playfully.
“Can I come over?” I blurt out.
I hear him chuckling.
“Sorry. Fuck. That was too forward. I’ll just go to bed,” I say hastily. “Hanging up now. Sleep well.”
“No way in hell I’m letting you come all the way out here at this time of night,” he says softly. “I’ll come to you.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll be there soon.”
16
Dylan
I can’t fight my smile as I take the fastest shower in the history of bathing and find a clean pair of jeans and a tee shirt. I don’t bother with underwear. But I do slip a few condoms into my back pocket in case Jane still hasn’t got any.
Sure. Staying away from Jane would be the smart thing to do. And I was absolutely planning on doing just that.
But that was before I got what was definitely a booty call.
I make it to Jane’s apartment in record time and knock on her door. She answers wearing little shorts and a tee shirt and all I’m thinking about is how quickly I can get them off of her.
“Hi there,” I say casually, leaning against the door.
“Hi,” she whispers. She’s standing in the doorway, staring at me.
I cock my head to one side. “Can I come in?”
She blinks. “Yeah,” she says, “of course.”
It’s all that I can do to keep my hands to myself. She swallows. I feel like she’s waiting for me to make the first move, and I’m fucking dying to, but, God help me, I want to drive her just a little crazier first.
“Doing okay, Jane?” I ask. “You sounded a little winded on the phone?”
You sounded a little horny on the phone.
“I’m fine,” she breathes.
I make my way into her bedroom, knowing she’ll follow.
“Hot in here,” I say.
“Oh. I can turn up the air-con.”
I ruck up my tee shirt and toss it to the floor.
“Or… that,” Jane says. She’s nervous. She fiddles with the hem of her shirt.
I know I’m being cocky, but I need her to confess to calling me up wanting to get in my pants. I need her to make the first move.
“What’s this?” I ask, peeking into the open nightstand drawer.
“Don’t,” she yelps, rushing to close the door She’s too late. I spy her little pink sparkly vibrator before she can close the drawer.
“Didn’t do the trick, did it?” I ask, letting my voice drop.
I sit up on the bed and grip her waist. She gasps a little as I push her tee shirt up just a little bit to bare her stomach. Her skin is so creamy and sweet that I have to taste her. I press my lips to the spot just under her belly button, and she whimpers.
I’m not patient. Despite fucking myself to memories of Jane when I got home from dropping her off, I’m hard as a rock again.
I look up at Jane, and her eyes are closed. Her lips part. She whispers my name, and I know that she wants this as badly as I do.
“Please, Dylan,” she breathes.
I kiss my way up her body, taking her shirt with me and tossing it to the floor. She isn’t wearing a bra, and I immediately take one of her piercings into my mouth and suck on the tiny barbell. The sound she makes sends shivers down my back. It’s needy and achy and it’s all I ever want to hear.
I suck harder, working her over with my hands and mouth until her knees give out and she sort of crashes on top of me. Her lips find mine and she kisses me hard, her hands pulling at my hair and her body writhing on top of mine. She grinds her hips against me, feeling how hard I am for her, and moans loudly.
“Take your jeans off,” she hisses. “Need to feel you.”
She’s on top of me and she eases off so that I can undo my pants.
“I like bossy Jane,” I say with a wink.
But Jane also has no patience tonight. She helps me ruck my jeans down to my knees then her hot little mouth is on me before I know which end is up.
“Fuck,” I groan. “Baby, that’s good.”
And it is good. It’s wet and messy, maybe even a little sloppy, but it’s kind of perfect. It’s clear that Jane hasn’t done this much before, but she’s sucking me like she desperately wants to and that’s what makes it incredible.
She moans around my cock, and the vibrations make me arch up off the bed.
“I’m too close,” I warn her. “Want to come inside you.”
She nods quickly and takes off her shorts and panties. I find one of the condoms I’d stashed in my jeans and kick them off.
The pink tip of her tongue peeks out from between her lips as she watches me roll the latex over my cock. She looks hungry. Her breath catches.
She wants me badly and she’s completely shameless about it.
“I like bossy Jane,” I murmur. “I like shy Jane. I’m okay with serious Jane.”
I kiss her neck.
“But I fucking love horny Jane,” I whisper.
“You love…”
I cut her off with a hard kiss before she has time to overthink that comment. Maybe before I do too. I kiss her until her cheeks are pink and she’s too wound up to speak.
“Sit on my dick, baby,” I grate into her ear. “Ride me.”
Jane straddles my hips and eases herself onto me. She’s got barely an inch of me inside her when she lets out a mangled sound.
Fuck. I forgot. It’s been years since Jane’s been with anyone.
“Sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” I say softly. “Let’s go slow.”
Jane leans down and kisses me roughly. I surprise her and suck her ton
gue into my mouth, and she gasps but keeps her mouth on mine as she lowers herself down on me another inch. Then another.
She braces her hands on my chest as she takes my dick all the way inside and bears downs to grind her clit into me.
“Dylan,” she seethes. “So good.”
I still love the way she says my name in her Irish lilt. It’s the little trill sound that does me in.
She snaps her hips, riding me wildly. Her tits bounce and her hair swirls all around her. She’s fucking beautiful. And mine.
“Need more,” she husks out, her voice cracking. “So close.”
I grip her waist tightly and thrust up into her.
“Fuck,” she cries out.
She groans. Then her voice is barely a whisper.
“Baby.”
I thrust up into her even harder.
“Oh fuck,” I gasp. “Call me baby again.”
She turns scarlet and groans. This time more from embarrassment than arousal.
No way. I’m not having any of that. I grab Jane and in one clumsy, but effective, swoop, I’ve got her pinned underneath me with one of her knees bent up and resting against my chest.
The sound I make is feral as I get just a little bit deeper inside her. I’ve got both of her hands held above her head with one of mine, and I’m ramming into her like I want to fuck any insecurities out of her mind.
“I mean it. Call me baby again,” I growl. “Fucking loved that.”
Her eyes are unfocused. She’s seconds from an explosive orgasm.
“Oh,” she eeks out. “God. Baby.”
I feel her tighten around me and I can’t hold on any longer. She breaks first, gasping and moaning as she comes and I bury my face into her neck as my own orgasm rips through me.
Her legs tighten around my waist, and I rock her through the aftershocks, pressing deep, mouthy kisses to her neck and the side of her face. I stay on top of her, inside of her, with my arms around her for far, far longer than I ever normally would. Far longer than I should. Because the thought of letting her go just hurts.
I’ve had a pretty ridiculous amount of sex in my life. Some good, some great, some completely regrettable.
But nothing like this.
17
Jane
I do my best to communicate telepathically with Dylan.
Don’t move. Don’t leave my bed.
I’d try telling him with actual words using my voice, but I can’t seem to bring myself to speak. Or move. My legs don’t work anymore. And I’ve been rendered mute.
But it’s fine. I think I’d be content with Dylan Cotter lying on top of me, kissing and sucking on my neck forever.
Eventually, he shifts off of me and heads to the bathroom. I hear the sink running. He comes back with a damp washcloth and cleans me off. His touch is sweet and gentle, but I can barely keep my eyes open to enjoy it.
“You’re staying?” I croak out in the least sexy voice possible.
“You’re not kicking me out, are you?”
I shake my head no. Dylan drops back into bed and pulls the comforter up over us both.
Now hold me. Put your arms around me. Don’t let go yet.
More telepathy, of course.
Thankfully, Dylan can read my mind, and he pulls me tightly to him, letting me rest my head on his chest. I’m fast asleep in a matter of seconds.
***
Hours later, the sun is peeking in through the blinds, and I’m still in Dylan’s arms, kind of sprawled across his torso with my face a little bit in his armpit, which should be gross, but it isn’t. Plus, I’m too comfortable to move.
I burrow further into him, which must wake him, and I feel his hands running up and down the length of my back. I close my eyes again. That feels good.
He drops a kiss to the top of my head, and I smile, shifting so that I’m straddling his waist, peering down at his face. His expression is perfectly relaxed and composed, despite his messy bed-head hair and the morning scruff on his jaw and chin. He opens his eyes slowly.
“You’re really hot in the morning,” I tell him.
He laughs.
Normally when I say blunt, stupid things, I get embarrassed. But not right now.
Dylan reaches up for a lock of my hair and twirls it around his fingers.
“You look like a mermaid,” he tells me.
“It’s the hair,” I say with a smirk. “I’ve been getting Ariel comments since I was a kid.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just continues to play with my hair contentedly.
I know he doesn’t know this, but I love having people play with my hair, and I’m coming apart a little as he does it.
“Do you, um… need to get up or anything?” I ask. “Do you have somewhere you have to go?” I shiver and suck my bottom lip into my mouth.
Dylan’s eyes are hooded, and he takes a long, lazy perusal of my body. It’s so slow that I swear, I can feel his gaze heat up my skin.
“I’m right where I want to be,” he whispers.
I dive down and kiss him because I just have to. He rolls his hips underneath mine and I feel how hard he is for me already. I kiss him more deeply. As hard and passionately as I can. I love how wanted he makes me feel. How safe.
And how beautiful.
Our kissing slows but doesn’t stop. Dylan groans against me, and I part my lips for his tongue. We’re pressed together so tightly, I feel the vibrations from the sounds he’s making in his chest.
Somehow, I end up underneath him again, his chest against mine, his full weight on top of me. I gasp for air between kisses.
I feel the tip of Dylan’s cock nudge against me. He breaks the kiss abruptly.
“Condom,” he hisses.
I grab onto him dig my nails into his shoulders to keep him close.
“I’m clean,” I tell him, “and on the pill.”
“Me too. Clean, I mean,” he assures me. “Are you sure?”
I nod. I’m sure.
“Want to feel you,” I whisper. “Just you.”
He kisses me again and inches his way inside. I’m still a little sore from last night, but I want him so badly, it doesn’t even register.
“So tight,” he murmurs. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby.”
I moan and arch back, wrapping my legs around Dylan’s waist when I feel him completely inside of me.
“Never done this before,” I confess.
“Me neither.”
I reach up and kiss the first part of him that I can get to. The side of his neck. I mouth his skin, biting and sucking until he picks up the pace and starts thrusting into me harder.
“Ugh,” I groan.
“So perfect, Jane.”
I squeeze my legs around his middle and tighten around his cock.
“Drive me crazy,” he mutters.
Minutes pass, maybe even hours. I don’t know or care. But I could spend days like this. Under Dylan. With him buried deep inside of me.
When my orgasm hits, I feel like I’m going to break apart. It’s intense and devastatingly slow. Dylan pulses inside of me, and I feel him come too. I cry out his name. He grunts and swears and hisses out mine.
It takes forever to catch my breath, but when I do, Dylan is staring down at me. His eyes are kind of hazy.
I want to say something. Something poignant and perfect about how amazing that was and about how it’s so unlikely that we should ever have found each other again after all this time and how I don’t understand why he puts in the effort to be with someone like me, but I’m so glad that he does.
I can’t make the words come out.
He eases out of me and flops over onto his back, a sated smile on his face.
“Sleep for another minute,” he says. “I’ll start some coffee.”
To my surprise, I doze off for a little while longer and wake up to the smell of coffee. Dylan reenters the bedroom and sits at the foot of the bed holding my sketchbook. He’s put on his boxers on but wears nothing else.
<
br /> “Can I see?” he asks.
I guess I manage to nod because he starts flipping through my sketchbook, looking at the sketches that I did of him yesterday in art class.
“You’re crazy talented,” he tells me.
“Thank you.”
He studies the drawing that I made when I was positioned up close to his face. I’d love to know what he’s thinking. If he likes my likeness of him.
“You made me look good,” he quips.
“You already look good.”
“No, I mean… something about my expression,” he says. “You make me look like I’m thinking about something.”
“Well, I’m assuming that you were thinking about something.”
“I was thinking about this pretty red-haired artist,” he teases. “And how I was going to try and get her in bed after this.”
I laugh.
“Actually, I was thinking all kinds of things,” he admits. “Like how there’s so much I didn’t know about you.”
“I told you a lot.”
“Yeah, you did. And I’m glad I know that part of your story. I’m glad you told me all the big, serious things,” he says sincerely, “but I was thinking about all the little things that I don’t know about you yet.”
“Like what?”
“Your favorite color,” he answers. “Your favorite food. Your middle name.”
I watch as Dylan picks up one of my charcoal pencils and flips to a blank page in my sketchbook. Hm…
“My favorite color is lavender,” I tell him, pulling the thin bedsheet up to cover my chest. “My favorite food is ice cream. Mint chocolate chip to be specific.”
“Ew.”
“What’s ‘ew?’ How can you not like mint chocolate chip?” I ask.
“Why would you take chocolate and make it taste like toothpaste?”
“It absolutely does not taste like toothpaste.”
He just smiles. He starts drawing something.
“Middle name?” he asks.
“Don’t have one,” I answer.
“Really?”
“My folks couldn’t come up with a more clever name than ‘Jane,’” I tell him. “Do you really think they could be bothered to come up with a second?”