Instead she had to swap them, for something slightly less terrifying. Like turning her head to kiss him. Just softly, just sweetly, a little stand-in for all the things she couldn’t quite say yet.
And then a little less softly and sweetly, when his hand slid over her right breast.
She jerked the second he touched her. Couldn’t be helped. He just did it so abruptly, and after a second of feeling him actually fondling her she realized something else—he’d never made the first move in that way before.
He’d always waited for her to push and persuade, but something sure felt different now. He wasn’t even just cupping her there. He had her nipple between thumb and forefinger, and the more she squirmed the more firmly he tugged at it until everything cold and miserable inside her suddenly ran hot.
Of course, he chose that moment to pull away. Just as she could feel it buzzing and tingling between her legs, the urge to kiss him more greedily like a hand shoving at her back. Go on, go on, go for it. The light is green.
Unfortunately, the light was not green.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, though she at least had the luxury of seeing him breathe all rough and hard. As though just that one second of kissing and touching had made him as crazy as it had made her. “It’s just…you’re very naked.”
“You like it?”
“Of course I like it. Haven’t thought about much else since…”
Her mind immediately went to certain images, without him having to spell them out. The way his jeans had looked, shoved around his thighs. The thick curve of his stiff cock, just waiting for her to touch and kiss and lick.
Yeah, she understood that feeling, all right.
“Me either.”
He hesitated then, but she could feel it coming.
“I really don’t want to take advantage when you’re this vulnerable.”
Though it was better than what she’d expected. It gave her an in, at least, rather than the total shutdown of a flat-out no.
“You think this is vulnerable?”
“I don’t know. It feels kind of like you’re rubbing your ass against my cock.”
She tried to laugh but managed only a long sigh of pleasure, to hear him say the words.
“It’s good, right?”
“I’m not going to deny it’s good.”
She slid a hand between their bodies and found the solid ridge of his cock. Rubbed hard in that way he’d seemed to like.
“How about this?”
“Evie, seriously. You need to rest.”
“Are you sure?”
He’d started bucking into her hand around the word seriously. One hand on her hip, the other trailing somewhere around her breasts.
“Ohhh God. No. No,” he said, then a second later, “Keep doing that. Oh yeah just like that.”
“You want me to make you come?”
He groaned, loudly.
“You’ve got no clue what it does to me to hear you say something like that. Here—move your hand.”
“But I—”
“Move your hand, that’s it. Like this,” he said, but he didn’t wait for her to obey. He just pinned her wrist to her thigh, and pressed up close to her again. Found the rudest thing he could with the stiff length of his cock.
Like maybe the cleft between the cheeks of her ass. If he’d been naked she would have bucked away from it, and she knew it. But as it was the feel of him rubbing in that place—so hard and solid and rough from the material of his jeans—just made her sex ache. A fresh slick of liquid coated the delicate folds there, turning everything unbearably wet and unbearably good.
While his fingers found the tight point of her left nipple.
He could hardly reach it, with his arm around her shoulders the way it was. But somehow the strange restraint of the position they were in, his hand almost not reaching…it just made things hotter. He tugged the little bud and she turned her face in search of his mouth, his throat, just anything. Anything to focus on, while this pleasure thrummed through her.
“You make me feel so good,” she said, because it was true—but also because the words tasted sweet in her mouth. Like eating a spoonful of aniseed, after a jug full of vinegar. “Make me feel good.”
He didn’t hesitate.
“Spread your legs, baby,” he said, just like that first time—only surer now. More eager. “Let me see.”
She did as she was told without even thinking about it, then felt him shift a little behind her so he could look all the way down, down to her completely open pussy. To her stiff clit and already slippery lips, all of it so clear even in near darkness.
He didn’t go for the obvious, however. Instead his fingers slid through her folds all slow and easy, mapping various parts of her out. Finding that little hollow again, and testing it, testing it. Then easing back up again with such painful deliberation.
First a stroke over one plump curve. Then a little circle all the way around her stiff bud, without actually touching it. And finally, finally, for the big finish…
“Ohhhh yeah. Just there, there.”
“Where do you want it?”
“You know where.”
“Say it, and I might.”
She hovered on the brink, half-agitated, half something else. Reckless, she thought it was, and her mouth proved her right a moment later. Her mouth wanted her to say something other than what he was clearly expecting, and she delivered.
“Okay. Take your clothes off, and then fuck me.”
Hell—he’d given her the opportunity. Had he really thought he could say something like that and not get a stronger response now? She’d felt his hands on her, felt his mouth.
She wanted the last one. Even if it hurt the way everyone said, she wanted it.
“You don’t really want me to fuck you,” he said, but as he did so he found her clit with that one maddening finger. Pressed there, over and over, until her legs made a weird straight shape and her stomach clenched tight with the pleasure of it.
“I do. Ohhhh God I do.”
“You want to feel me inside you?”
She almost sobbed to hear him put it like that. His voice just sounded so urgent suddenly, so heated.
“Yes—ahhh Van. Oh keep doing that.”
He made little tight circles around her clit in response, sliding downward through her slit every now and then, to gather more wetness. Of course, each time he did the sensation intensified. By the time he made his next offer she’d turned almost mindless, body trembling under the pressure. Orgasm just a stroke away.
“You want me to make love to you?”
Whatever fears she’d had lurking inside her fled. He’d used those two words. Make and love. He hadn’t said fucked, or screwed, or any of the other things she’d heard it called, in the middle of lectures on what not to do.
And a moment later he said them differently too—different order, which made her put a hand over his. Made her press his teasing fingertips right over her clit.
“God I want to make love to you,” he said, so breathless and horny and good, as her climax swelled through her sex. More liquid coated her folds, more sounds burst from her lips, and all of it for him.
For the things he said and the things he did, without even trying.
“Oh yeah that’s it. That’s it, baby. Oh you’re just spilling all over my hand.”
She groaned on the word spilling. How did he know the exact right rude things to say, to get her going? The moment he’d done it another contraction tied itself to the end of her orgasm, so briefly intense she couldn’t even get the sound she wanted to make out.
And then he just pulled her to him, both arms forming a kind of cross over her chest. Mouth pressed tight to the side of her face in an almost kiss, most of him still as strung out as he’d been a second ago
But different, different. Not as urgent, she thought, which disappointed her even as she sank into a warm haze of bliss. If he wasn’t as urgent, he wouldn’t want to go that one step furt
her. He wouldn’t want to strip off, get her on her back, slide between her legs.
Or at least, she assumed so.
“How do you want me to do it?”
Her eyes had been closed. They opened now. He meant…he actually meant to do the thing they’d said, in the heat of the moment. She knew it, even though realistically it could have been suggesting anything.
“Will you take off your clothes first?”
She felt him tense a little. As though he hadn’t quite expected her to take the ball and run with it. Maybe he’d just offered because he’d thought she was near to sleep, lax and unmotivated to answer.
But it was too late now.
“Are you sure you want this?”
She rubbed herself back against him in answer. Felt the unbearable hardness of his cock right between the cheeks of her ass again, only this time…this time she could feel her own wetness there too. She’d made an awful mess, and even better—he seemed to know it.
“God you get wet. I can almost feel you through my jeans.”
“Imagine how good it would be to get that wetness on your cock.”
He sucked in a breath so quickly she was surprised he managed to get words out, after.
“Jesus—don’t say that. Don’t talk like that. Just…gimme a second, okay?”
The old reflex kicked in, of course.
“Sorry.”
“And no sorrys, either. I like it when you talk like that, but I need a moment to think.”
“About what?”
“About whether I want this because my dick’s hard, or because you’re asking me.”
“Can’t it be both?”
He made the oddest little chuffing sound, before squeezing her suddenly close.
“I guess so.”
“It’s okay for you to want me like that. I want you.”
“I know.”
“So what are you waiting for?”
He made another sound—louder this time, and more like a laugh.
“Honestly? I don’t even know if I’ve got any condoms.”
She had to admit, that pulled her up short. The other stuff—his resistance, his need to be good about things—was expected, but this thing…no, she hadn’t thought of that at all. She’d imagined his backpack full of Trojans. She’d thought of other girls he might have had, without even knowing she’d started thinking about things like that.
Surely such a consummate ladies’ man had to have condoms.
“Really? But what do you usually do when you have a girl over?”
“I don’t usually have girls over.”
This time she was pulled up so short she could have slipped between an ant’s legs.
“Well…where do you…you know…” She tried in vain to think of the right phrase. “Go with them?”
“Go with them? Like what? Like slipping into a bathroom to do my business with some chick?”
“No, no, I just—”
“First you think I’m cheating, now you think I’m a man-whore.”
The giggle felt wildly inappropriate, but it burst out of her anyway.
“Man-whore. Is that even a thing? I don’t think you’re that, I swear. But I’m not an idiot, Van. I mean, I know that you’ve had sex with other girls.”
“Not these hordes you seem to be imagining.” She felt him hesitate, before plunging on. “I told you. I find it hard to…open up to people.”
“And you need that, to have sex with a girl?”
“How come you know so much and so little at the same time? Yeah, most guys don’t give a shit. But I just… I can’t just fuck anybody. I need more than that. It’s too much for me to let go with a total stranger.”
Suddenly, all that restraint of his gained a new and interesting shade. It wasn’t just about her innocence. It was about his own stuff too.
“Can you let go with me?”
A long, long silence followed. One in which the now subtle rock of his hips became something firmer, and more obvious.
“Yes,” he said, finally, as that rocking increased its speed. “But I want you to be sure. You can’t grow back your virginity, you know.”
“If I wait any longer I think my virginity’s going to come back with reinforcements. Just make love to me, Van. I want to feel you.”
This time, he relented. She knew it, before he’d even taken any of the steps she expected, like turning her onto her back. Or maybe kissing her a little, to warm things up. He simply slid off the bed behind her, and she turned just in time to see him pulling his jersey over his head.
It was a sight to behold. Far better than the glimpses she’d gotten on the night they’d come back. He was hairier than she’d thought—all the way up to his throat and quite fair, really, considering the hair on his head.
But then she remembered it was dyed, and started thinking about a whole host of other things. Was that his natural color there? Almost tawny, she thought, but somehow couldn’t imagine him like that.
The black suited him. It suited his eyes, his eyelashes, the softness of his mouth. It made a good contrast, and that contrast didn’t stop with his face. It extended down over his body too. Everything so solid and strong there, but somehow softly curved at the same time.
Like his thighs, God his thighs. And when he put his back to her briefly to shuck off his underwear—as though modesty was somehow required, at this point—she couldn’t help ogling the perfect, round peach of his ass.
And he seemed to know it, when he turned back.
“You looking?” he asked, mouth tugging up at one corner.
She wanted to ask him how he possibly thought she could resist. He had a beautiful body—far better than hers. And all of it just came to a head in the middle, with that thick, glorious, amazing cock of his.
The one she couldn’t take her eyes off, even when he almost grinned to see her doing it.
“You want to get under the sheets?” he asked, which immediately turned the syrupy, slow sensuous feeling inside her into something else. Something kind of urgent and giddy, as though they’d both turned into big kids about to do a naughty thing.
Of course, the feeling only remained for the length of time it took him to climb into bed. And then his mouth searched out hers and his hand went without hesitation to her breast, and any sense of strange immaturity went away.
Instead there was just heat, and the heavy feel of him. The brush of his bare skin against hers, too much and then not enough. She pressed closer to him, wanting more, but couldn’t quite believe it when he didn’t pull away. Not even a little bit. Not even for a second, to let her catch her breath.
Though in truth she didn’t really want him to. Breathing seemed like a secondary concern, in the face of this. Something brushed between her legs, briefly—something hard and almost as slick as she felt—and a gasp shoved out of her, but he had it under control.
He slid his hand down between her legs and stroked over all the places she felt far too sensitive, until the gasp became a sob.
“Don’t,” she tried to say, but luckily the word came out as something else instead. It sounded a lot more like yes as his fingertip just ever so slightly circled the clit she couldn’t bear him to actually touch.
“Too much?” he asked, and she wanted to nod. She really did.
It just didn’t seem like an option right now. Most of her body was telling her something else altogether, in a little furtive whisper. Something like ohhhh man, do you think we can actually have another orgasm so quickly after that first one? Is that even possible? I totally want to see if that’s possible.
And though she had no idea why her body suddenly sounded like a surfer dude from the nineties, she was willing to go with it. The pleasure felt too intense this time to not follow it wherever it was going, and besides…
She could tell what he’d started doing, at the same time.
He had a hand on himself as he fondled her. A hand between his legs, stroking and stroking while his mouth searched out the
curve of her throat.
It sent her half-mad, to feel it. She simply had to reach down and uncover whatever he was doing, but once she’d done so—once she’d found his fist wrapped tight around his impossibly stiff cock—she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions.
The tip felt really, really slick. And so hot, burning hot. Had it been this hot before? She didn’t think so, but found it almost impossible to remember in the middle of this suddenly frantic and heated haze.
He didn’t just patiently allow her to touch him. He bucked into her hand. He pressed himself fully against her, all of that hair on his body sparking delicious new feelings in her taut nipples and on the insides of her thighs. And when she rubbed her thumb right over that little slit at the tip of his cock, he stopped any pretense at holding back.
“Christ. I’m gonna have to do this before I come all over you.”
She felt him shift a little, before reaching over to his bedside drawers. He did it subtly, of course, and maybe like he wasn’t really going for the condoms. But she knew that was what they were the moment he had the little foil packets in his hand.
She just didn’t know why he was studying them so intently. Or why the sudden pause in proceedings made her impatient enough to chew her own arm off.
“What are you—” she started, but he answered before she could finish.
“Looking for the expiration date.”
She hadn’t even known they had something like that. But at the very least, him searching for one backed up what he’d said earlier. He really didn’t sleep with a lot of girls. He had five-hundred-year-old condoms in his bedside cabinet.
“Okay, we’re good,” he said, though he didn’t sound as relieved as she would have liked. And when he looked at her, his gaze was both heated and tense, all at the same time.
It made her want to reassure him in some way, even as most of her said no, no. Just wait. Just watch. And as it turned out, the latter instinct was the correct one. The sight of him rolling that thing on, shuddering at the feel of his hands on himself…it was better than the look of him naked.
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