by Dahlia Adler
I laugh softly into his chest. “This is only the second time, Connor,” I remind him, though I can’t really imagine getting sick of it either.
“Doesn’t matter.” His voice is infused with so much confidence, it almost convinces me too. “I’ve seen your life become this monumental struggle to gain control over every moment. To watch you willingly lose it, even for just a minute…you don’t know what it does to me.” He tilts my chin up so I have no choice but to meet his glittering gaze in the dark. “To have you lose it with me….”
There’s so much emotion suffusing this room right now, I’m not sure I can handle it. “Fuck, Connor—”
“Yeah, now’s good for that.” His mouth closes over mine, and it’s clear the feelings-sharing portion of the evening is over. I don’t know whether the chills running down my arms are from the air conditioning, but he makes good on his promise to keep me warm, and then some.
It’s so easy to get lost in all of it—the caresses on my skin, the erotic sweep of his tongue, the soft firmness of his lips—but I force myself to pull back. “It’s my turn.”
“Your turn?” He kisses me again. “I mean, fine with me, if you’re ready for more—”
“No, jackass.” I push him down to the pillows, and he laughs. “My turn to see you lose control. You’ve watched me come twice now. It’s my turn.” I press my lips to his neck, sucking gently, and his laughter fades into a soft moan. I keep going down his chest and through the smattering of soft brown hair there, stopping to take a nipple between my teeth. He hisses out a soft curse, which only spurs me on.
I nip the other one too, then continue on down with slow swirls of my tongue that leave Connor panting. “You’ve really perfected the art of torture,” he observes breathlessly, arching into my mouth.
“Consider it revenge for all the red ink on my first paper.” I realize as soon as the words come out of my mouth that I shouldn’t have mentioned class, but Connor’s already too far gone for it to matter. His fists are clutching the sheets at his sides, and he’s watching me through partially closed lids, and I wonder which one of us is more anxiously anticipating what comes next.
It takes all the patience I possess not to simply yank down his boxers, but eventually, my mouth makes it to the waistband and I pull slowly, slowly, like unwrapping a Christmas present, forcing his hips off the bed. Then I slither back up his body and engulf him in my mouth.
“Sacrement de calisse de tabarnac!” Connor writhes beneath me, streams of beautiful profanity slipping breathlessly from his lips as I take him further and further into my throat. I know exactly what he means about the wonder of seeing me lose control now, because I feel it as I watch him, and it’s so fucking hot I feel like I’m halfway to the edge all over again.
Moving up and down on his shaft, I let my long hair swish along his inner thighs, and add my hands to the mix, cupping and stroking while he bucks and moans and swears incoherently. Finally, he groans, “Lizzie, stop, I’m gonna come.”
I lick slowly upward and swirl my tongue around the crown, loving the way his entire body shudders in response. “That’s sort of the point.”
He shakes his head and pulls me up to kiss me fiercely. “I want to be inside you.” He rolls his hips against mine, as if I could possibly miss his meaning, then slides a hand down my leg and wraps it around his waist, pulling us closer but still not close enough. His cock is so hot and so hard it’s practically branding me, and each time it brushes against my clit, it brings me closer and closer, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough.
I reach out clumsily for my nightstand, but this isn’t college; I have no condoms in there. I graduated high school a virgin. It was only at Radleigh that condoms became a nightstand staple.
“My pants,” Connor murmurs before sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. “There’s a condom in my wallet.”
A white-hot streak of jealousy zips through my insides as I fumble for his pants on the floor. I know he didn’t have one in his wallet the night he went down on me by my parking lot, and he didn’t plan to sleep with me before the semester was over. It never even occurred to me he might be fucking anyone else, but it’s sure as hell occurring to me now. I so, so want not to give a shit.
I retrieve the condom and drop his pants back on the floor. “You sure no one’s gonna miss this?” I ask coolly, handing it over.
“What?” He stops kissing me long enough to look me in the eye. “Oh, Lizzie. I put it in there after…that night. Just in case we ever got there again. I know it was stupid, that it was probably better—”
“Shut up, Connor.” I kiss him, hard. There’s no one else. Of course there’s no one else. I’m not The Other Woman with Connor; I’m it, the same way he is for me. “Put on the condom and fuck me. Now.”
He’s sheathed and ready to go in about two seconds, and he rolls me over so he’s on top of me now, looking into my eyes, covering me with his warmth. “Are you sure about this?” he asks softly.
I take his face in my palms and bring his mouth to mine for a long, slow kiss that leaves no room for doubt on my end. “Are you?”
“More than I ever thought possible.” And then I feel him nudging me open, and the penetration is so welcome I could weep. It comes out more like a whimper, and he waits for me to assure him I’m okay before pushing in, inch by inch, so slowly I could scream, so hot I probably will. “You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs as he buries himself up to the hilt, his lips a whisper away from mine until he closes the gap between us.
“Not so bad yourself,” I try to tease, but it comes out on a moan as he rolls his hips. His mouth reclaims mine as he begins a slow slide in and out, then kisses a damp trail down to my nipple. He takes it into his mouth on a harder, faster thrust, and I cry out, all the sensations racking my body too much to process at once.
I’m so close, I can feel the coil of tension building, sweat beading on my skin despite the blasting air conditioner. I’m probably digging into Connor’s muscled back firmly enough to draw blood, but it’s not enough. I want him deeper. I want to see more of him. I want more.
I wrap my legs tightly around his hips and roll us over, careful to keep him inside me. On top now, I can see the scratches I’ve left on his chest, the slightly sweaty sheen of his skin, lust-dark eyes boring into mine. I lean down, bracing my palms on either side of his head. “I wanted to see you,” I whisper, my hair brushing his broad shoulders. “Is this okay?”
He laughs breathlessly. “I’m buried inside you, with a great view of your incredible body. Yeah, Lizzie, I think that’s okay.” He cups my face in his palms and kisses me, long and slow and deep. “I should’ve known you’d prefer to be on top.”
“Don’t make me get down from here.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” He takes one nipple in his mouth, the other between his fingers, until I whimper helplessly. “Still want to get down?”
“No.”
“Good.” His eyes flash fire. “Now ride me like a fucking pony.”
Fucking hell. The words set me off, and I tighten around him until he grunts and his eyes roll back into his head. I want to go slowly to prolong the pleasure of having him inside me, but my hips lift up as if following Connor’s command of their own volition. After a few seconds he opens his eyes and I watch him drink me in as he meets me stroke for stroke. The naked lust in his eyes nearly does me in, and I tighten around him again, trying to prevent myself from coming too soon.
He groans and pumps harder, grasping my back with desperate fingers and pulling me close to suck a nipple into his mouth. Our pace speeds up, approaching frantic, and the electric tension building up in my body is coiled so tightly, is so densely present, I can’t even imagine how it’ll feel to snap. I’m on the edge of exploding on such a grand scale I’m not entirely sure I’ll ever be able to piece myself back together.
His hands drop to my ass, gripping it so tightly as he thrusts that I swear he might go right through me. “I am so fucking close,”
he pants, his breath hot on my damp skin. “I can’t wait to come inside you.”
I pull him close enough to whisper into his ear. “Then don’t wait.” I tighten on him one more time and snap my hips just enough to make him roar with the power of his release, then grind down in just the right spot to take me with him. Our shuddering climaxes feed each other in ripple effects, and it takes forever but somehow not nearly long enough for us to come down.
I collapse on top of him and roll off to his side. Both of us are breathing too heavily to speak, staring at the ceiling as if making eye contact now would be too much. Finally, I break the silence.
“Sacrement.”
His lips twitch. “Funny, I was just about to say, ‘Holy shit.’”
Propping myself up on an elbow, I watch his heaving chest as his breathing works its way back to normal. “You are dirty in bed, Mr. Lawson.”
His cheeks flush slightly; it’s adorable. “Not usually. You must bring it out in me.”
“Trust me—I’m not complaining.” I lean over and give him a long, languid kiss. “It’s hot as fuck. I’ve never come that hard in my entire life.”
“Oh good; it’s not just me.” Connor huffs out a breath. “If that’s sex, I have no idea what the hell I’ve been doing for the last decade, but I should’ve just spent it studying.”
I drop back onto the pillow and laugh. “I just assumed that’s what you had been doing. Honestly, it crossed my mind more than once that you might be a virgin.”
“And what if I was?”
I freeze. “Shit. Were you?”
He doesn’t respond.
I prop myself up on my arm and turn to him. “Connor—”
“No, Elizabeth, I wasn’t a virgin, but I’m flattered. Really.”
“You’re such a dick.”
“Ah, there’s that romance I missed.” He reaches out and smooths a few sweaty strands of hair out of my face. “And sorry, but my high school prom date got there first.”
I shouldn’t have wanted to kill the bitch, and rationally, I knew that, but still.
“You were trained well,” I admit grudgingly. “Even if you’re a total cliché.”
“I think that might be the highest praise you’ve ever bestowed upon me.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I warn, though even as I do my mind fills with all the things my lips can’t seem to say. Like how much it means to me that he drove down here. And how mind-blowingly gorgeous I think he is. And how right now, I feel a kind of happiness I’d assumed would be off limits to me forever.
I pull him toward me for a kiss instead, hoping that somehow, I’m getting it all across without having to say a word.
I wake up naked, alone, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, and completely confused. It takes a minute for the pieces to fall into place. Thanksgiving. I’m in my house. My parents aren’t. They never will be.
And then, Connor.
I jump out of bed, nearly killing myself in the tangled sheets, and am immediately hit by a gust of freezing air; we’d forgotten to turn off the air conditioner last night. I dash across the room to shut it off, then yank on a sweatshirt to quiet my shivering.
I cannot believe this is happening again. I cannot believe he took off after last night. I jam my legs into a pair of underwear from my suitcase and then into the warmest pair of flannel pajama pants I can find in my drawers. How fucking stupid am I to have thought things would be different?
I look wildly around the room, but there’s no note, not so much as a text. What a fucking asshole. So much for being thankful. The only thing I’m grateful for this holiday is that there’s still scotch in my dad’s study.
Stalking out of my room, I can practically taste the smoky liquid relief on my tongue. But I can also smell…bacon?
I continue down the stairs, more softly now, and freeze on the bottom step, my hand gripping the bannister for dear life. Connor is standing at the stove in a hoodie and drawstring cotton sleep pants, whistling as he tends to a pan with a spatula.
He didn’t leave me.
He still hasn’t noticed me there, and I don’t move to announce myself. I can’t. There’s an ache in my heart that’s rapidly climbing up my throat and destroying all powers of speech.
Connor makes this place look like home again.
The tears come without warning, and I sniff instinctively to keep them at bay. He whirls around, and his face brightens—it fucking lights up—when he sees me, for a second before he realizes I’m crying.
“Lizzie, what’s wrong?” He turns off the burners, ever practical, and hurries over, taking my teary mess of a face in his hands. “Are you okay?”
“I thought you left me,” I say hoarsely. “Again.”
“I didn’t. I wouldn’t,” he assures me firmly, pulling me close, not even flinching as I dig my nails into his back. “Not again. I swear, Lizzie. I’m not going anywhere.” He kisses the top of my head, and rests his chin there. “I just didn’t want the boys to see me coming out of your room in the morning. I slept on the couch, and I woke up when Nancy let herself in to put some groceries in the fridge. Hence the bacon.”
“So you’re really here. In my house. With me.” I want to pinch myself. Or him. Maybe both.
He smiles against my hair. “Yes, beautiful. I am very much with you.”
The complimentary endearment makes me squirm. “God, how do you just…say that?”
“Say what?”
I can’t even. “The B-word.” Heat rises into my cheeks as I pull away. “Especially when we both know I look like shit.”
He throws back his head and laughs. It’s rich and warm and even at my expense I think I could live off that sound forever. “I have never seen such a confident woman hate compliments so much.” He rests his hands on my hips but doesn’t pull me back into his arms. Instead, he presses his forehead to mine, his dark-blue eyes focusing intensely. “And I say it because I think it, every single time I see you. This morning’s not even close to an exception. You are beautiful, Elizabeth—in pajamas, in jeans, and definitely in nothing at all.”
My heart pounds in response as I remember the way he looked at me last night when I pulled off my dress. He means it. This gorgeous, intelligent, and good man actually means every word he says.
“Fuck, my parents would’ve loved you,” I whisper around the lump forming in my throat. “Not that comment about my naked body—my dad would’ve taken up hunting for that one—but just…you. I hate that they’ll never see me finally get life right again.”
Connor swallows hard, his fingers tightening on my waist. “They know,” he assures me quietly. “They knew you’d be fine. Better than fine. Amazing. They wouldn’t have left the boys to you otherwise. They knew you’d find your way eventually, Lizzie.”
I slip my arms up around his neck, marveling at how he always knows what to say to make me feel like life will be okay, at least for a little while. “Where are the boys, anyway?” I ask, eager to change the subject I’m embarrassed I’ve brought up. “Max is usually up at the crack of dawn.”
“Nancy took Max,” says Connor, fingertips inching under my sweatshirt. “And Ty biked to a friend’s house.”
“So we have the house to ourselves,” I clarify slowly, blinking in disbelief.
He kisses the spot right under my ear, setting off a shiver throughout my entire body, despite my warm pajamas. “That we do.”
I reach past him to grab my keys from the countertop. “Let’s go,” I order.
“Where?”
“To get a megabox of condoms for the next three days.”
He pulls me back, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder as he slides the keys from my hand and returns them to the counter. “Already taken care of,” he murmurs into my ear. “I told Nancy I forgot my toothbrush and she gave me directions to the drugstore.”
I’ve never found forethought so sexy. “Impressive.” I grind back against his growing hard-on to g
ive the word double meaning.
“I thought so.” His hand drifts lightly over the front of my pants, and I resist the urge to grab it and shove it exactly where I need it. We only have three days before we have to quit cold turkey for the rest of the semester, and I want them to count.
The touches become more deliberate, and I groan before finally biting out, “Back to my room. Now.”
“But what about breakfast?” he asks innocently, leaving a searing kiss on my neck.
“Unless you’re going to eat it off my naked body, leave it.”
He shrugs, grabs the pans, and follows me upstairs.
• • •
We have a few blissful hours together before the boys return, and then we reluctantly put our clothes back on for an afternoon of watching TV, throwing a football around in the backyard, making turkey adobo out of the leftovers, and then collapsing on the couch with a movie and a crackling fire. It ends up being a really nice day, and as I look around at Max asleep on the floor and Tyler curled up on the loveseat, texting his friends, I think I’m actually doing okay.
“You know what we haven’t done?” Connor says, his fingers gently stroking my thigh under the throw blanket we’re currently sharing.
I raise an eyebrow. Tyler doesn’t look up, but he’s definitely in hearing distance. The boys may know Connor’s more than my teacher by now, but there are limits.
“Looked at your old photo albums,” he says pointedly, giving me a playful swat, and I laugh. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Elizabeth,” he murmurs much more quietly. “At least until we’re alone.”
“You guys are gross, by the way,” Tyler calls without so much as glancing up from his phone.
I toss a throw pillow at his head, and he ducks, laughing. “You’re the one who asked if he was nailing me,” I remind Tyler. “Well, now you know.”
“Elizabeth!”
Connor’s horrified expression cracks me up. Tyler mock vomits into his lap, then swings his legs around to stand. “Just for that,” he says, walking over to the cabinets under the TV where all the Brandt family albums are located, “I’m showing Connor the green one.”