by LL Meyer
I reach for the switch and flip the light. She’s making a peanut butter sandwich.
“Are you telling me that every day this week that I’ve dropped you off, you haven’t eaten anything yet?!”
“Why are you yelling at me?!”
“Answer the question!”
“How can I eat dinner if I’m at school or work?”
“What? That’s the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”
“Well, I’m sorry if how I live my life isn’t up to your standards.”
Fuck, her tears are back.
I force my shoulders to relax. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
She seems at a loss of how to react to that. We just stare at each other across the room for a few moments.
“What are you doing here, Dane? I’m fine. There’s no mortal danger. If you’re not planning on murdering me, you’re free to leave. I promise to lock the door.”
Silent tears are running down her cheeks now, and I feel like absolute shit.
“Tell me why you’re crying.”
“I’m not,” she insists. “I told you, I’m fine.”
I take a hesitant step forward, but she moves back.
Fear twists in my gut. “Did I do something?”
“No!”
“Then, what is it?”
She shrugs. “Don’t worry,” she says, wiping angrily at her tears. “This is a pity party for one. You weren’t even invited.”
For a millisecond, I consider leaving her to whatever this is. But the need to make everything better for her easily overrules the idea. Crossing the kitchen, I pull her into my arms, batting away her feeble protests. And just like that, the storm clouds open, and she’s crying and crying like she’ll never stop, and it feels like my heart is breaking. I wonder how miserable she’s been and for how long for her to cry like this. I wish I knew how to stem the tide of pain pouring out of her, but maybe that’s what she needs, to let it out.
There’s nothing to sit on in the kitchen, so when she quiets a bit, I scoop her up and carry her down the hall.
“Which one’s yours?” I ask her of the doors in the hall. She points to the one farthest down.
By the light coming in from the back lane, I can see that her room is immaculately clean but small, with most of the space taken up with a double bed and a desk in the corner.
Placing her on her bed, I take off her shoes. The pleading look on her face is a killer. I know she thinks I’m going to leave, but even I’m not asshole enough to do that to her after the week we’ve had. Smiling at her, I pass her a tissue from the box on her nightstand as I toe off my boots. I pull out my phone and text Jason, telling him to come and exchange the Audi for something less noticeable. If I leave it out on the street all night, it’ll either be gone or be up on blocks by morning. He’ll bitch about the favor, but I know he’ll do it for me.
Her bed smells so much like her, and with her curled around me, her head on my shoulder and my arms around her, it’s overwhelming. Her breathing is starting to even out now as she relaxes against me. I have to find something to distract me because if she even moves, I’m going to push her onto her back and start kissing her. Studying her room in the dim light, I can see that her open closet is almost completely empty, and she doesn’t have anything on her walls. It’s almost as if she doesn’t really live here. It unnerves me and steps up my worry for this girl who I’ve known for such a short time.
Her fingers begin absently moving on my chest, pulling me out of my thoughts. I try my absolute best to stay still. But I want her so badly that I swear I can taste it. She’s not going to say no, but would I be a total asshole for doing it? Who cares if she’s upset and been crying, right?
She subtly rolls herself closer to me, inhaling, and I can’t stop myself from pulling her more firmly against me; she’s soft, pliant, and warm, laid out along my body. My brain warns me it’s not a good idea, but my body yells at me not to be a fool. In the end, she makes the decision for both of us. Well, at least in my mind, she does.
She arches against me to move her mouth to my ear. “Dane?” she whispers.
I groan and turn into her, my lips finding hers. They’re just as soft and sweet as the first time I kissed her, but as soon as her jaw relaxes, I push into her mouth. Like before, when our tongues slide together, thunderbolts of sensation crash together inside of me. What the hell? This crazy chemistry between us is incredible. I pull her on top of me, so I can wind my fingers into her hair and a faint moan floats from deep within her and settles in my balls.
Her hands are looking for something to do, distracting me, so I loosen my hold on her head, take both of her hands in mine and guide them behind her back. Once both of her wrists are circled by my left hand and settled against her tailbone, I raise a knee between her thighs.
She gasps, trying to pull away from my mouth, but my free hand bunches her hair at the nape of her neck to hold her in place.
The kiss gets deeper; our mouths explore, our tongues battle, we breathe each other’s air and swallow each other’s moans. With my thigh pressed into her center, I can’t help pushing her down while I grind up from below. She squirms and rubs, seeking the friction she needs. Tension rolls off of her, her body taut and urgent, trembling with need. In the back of my mind, I wonder if I could make her come like this, without really touching her at all. The thought almost undoes me right then and there. So, it’s either slow down now or the show’s over.
I pull my mouth away.
“God, Lil,” I murmur as I move her onto the bed beside me. “You feel so good.”
I put a good six inches between us and she whimpers in protest. “Sshhh,” I say, propping myself up on my elbow. Light from her window falls across her face, and I can see the want in her expression. Her lips are parted, her eyes are bright, and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Take your clothes off,” I tell her, my voice rough and demanding. Uncertainty flashes across her face, or maybe it’s even fear, so I lean into her ear. “Please,” I whisper. “I want to see you.”
It takes her a bit, but she finally reaches for the bottom of her T-shirt and pulls it over her head. She’s wearing a sports bra and she has to sit up to get it off. When the clasps at her back are undone, she takes a deep breath of relief, like it’s been strangling her all day. Full of uncertainty, she slowly pulls the bra down her arms, and as my eyes sweep up her chest, my breath catches in surprise. Her breasts are bigger than I was expecting. But I guess that’s what sports bras are all about, keeping everything tied down. Now free, they’re beautiful, heavy, with pretty pink nipples that contrast with her creamy skin.
As I continue to look my fill, she tries to cover herself.
“Uh, uh,” I tell her. Our eyes clash, the tension ratcheting up until she finally relents and lowers her arm. Fuck. My desire for her climbs sharply at the idea that she’s willing to do as I say.
My gaze flickers down to her bottom half, telling her she’s got more work to do.
She lies down, and then pops the button on her jeans and pulls down the zipper. Shimmying her hips to dislodge the denim, she works them down her thighs to reveal tiny cotton boy shorts stretched across her hipbones. I have to hold back a groan by biting the inside of my mouth.
When she’s got her jeans off, she lays herself back, thinking I’ll be satisfied. Tilting my head, I arch a brow at her. “All of it.”
After a beat, she hooks her thumbs into the waist of her underwear and ever so slowly pulls them off. When she’s done, she throws them at me, hitting me in the chest.
I ignore the urge to turn her over and smack her ass for that.
Instead, I let myself have a look at her body, which is an incredible mix of soft curves and smooth lines, her hipbones jutting out gently against her skin. When my eyes return to her face, it’s obvious that she needs some reassurance and that she’s earned it.
I lean in to nuzzle her. “You’re beautiful, Lil.”
I feel her smile, and something akin to exhilaration shoots through me. I find her lips, but I keep my body off of hers and just use my hand to explore her. From her collarbone, I skim down to cup one breast and then the other, weighing them, squeezing them, testing them out. She likes the touching – a lot. And when I gently roll a tight nipple between my thumb and forefinger, she arches herself into my hand with a little cry. She wants to pull away from my tongue and lips, but I don’t let her, recapturing her mouth again and again. Moving my fingers to her other nipple has her whole body humming with anticipation. And this time I tweak a little harder. She gasps for breath in my mouth as I force my tongue deeper.
My hand wanders down her flat stomach and into her soft pubic hair. It’s been a while since I’ve found any of this. Bar girls are almost always waxed from neck to toe. I kind of like that it sets her apart from them. It’s silky, I think with amusement as I tug gently, making her twitch with nervous surprise.
But everything else fades to the background for both of us as my fingers hover over her center. I pull away from her mouth to watch her. Her breath is stalled in her lungs, her eyes are closed, her lips are parted. I can feel how her whole body is like a live wire, rigid, waiting for my fingers to make contact. But I don’t. My fingers retrace their path back up her body. She whimpers with disappointment, and I breathe in her frustration. My smirk disappears though when she runs her hand along my dick through my jeans, sending a frisson of electricity through me that has me barely holding in a gasp. Grabbing her wrist to get back control, I lean in and seal my mouth around her nipple. Like it’s nothing she’s ever felt before, her whole body tightens with ecstasy. She fucking loves it – and her reaction just feeds my desire for her. Sounds start falling from her lips until she must realize it’s her making all that noise and she clamps her mouth forcefully closed.
“I like to hear you, Lily,” I whisper, pulling away from her breast for a moment. “Don’t ever keep quiet.”
As her mouth pops open on a gasping exhale, I bring my hand to her mouth and insert two fingers.
“Get them nice and wet.”
The words give her a bit of a jolt, but her mouth willingly molds itself to my fingers. The feel of her mouth and tongue, hot and alive around my fingers, almost derails me. All I really want is to push myself into her again and again, preferably from behind with her face planted in the bed.
Don’t be an asshole, Dane. Be patient.
Pulling my fingers from her mouth, I trail them between her breasts and down over her stomach to hover below her navel.
“Look at me,” I command.
I’m rewarded with a sharp inhale as her eyes flutter open.
“I’m going to touch you now.” I wait until she acknowledges me with a slight nod. “Good girl,” I whisper, before my lips demand her mouth again. Maybe I’m being cruel, but I plan to swallow the moan from the first time I push something into her.
I inch my finger forward and her knees come up. And surprise – the moan doesn’t come from her, but from me. She’s so wet. I dip my middle finger just enough to coat it and then press it to her clit.
Neither of us is prepared for her reaction. It’s like a bolt of electricity has been shot through her. She rips her mouth from mine to let out a strangled cry as she literally bucks against my hand as I work her. Her breathing becomes completely erratic and is laced with sounds that seem panicked.
“Sshhh,” I say soothingly. “Just let it come.”
My words still her movements and her eyes flutter open, wide and scared. “I . . . I’m not sure . . . how.”
I keep the surprise from my face with difficulty. What?! She’s never come before? Never? You’ve never even touched yourself? I want to demand of her. But I keep quiet, the vulnerable look on her face stilling my tongue.
“It’s okay,” I murmur. “I’ll help you.”
She freezes as I dip my thumb into her to get it wet.
“It’s going to be sooo good. I promise,” I say, positioning my thumb over her clit and my middle finger at her entrance. Ever so slowly I slide into her, increasing the pressure on her clit at the same time.
She sucks in a huge breath of air. Then I make another pass with my thumb, as I slide my finger the rest of the way in.
She shatters, her mouth silently forming an O in ecstasy as I milk her gently with my thumb, drawing it out for her.
Holy fuck, that was awesome. As I watch her come down, her head rolls toward me, loose on her shoulders, and her hands stay slack at her sides. One leg is still bent at the knee, propped up against me, but the other has slid down. She’s practically comatose.
Leaving my finger inside of her, I lean forward to her ear. “Was that good?”
I only get a bit of a moan out of her. “Li-ly?” I call softly. “Open your eyes.”
She’s still unresponsive, so I very gently curl my finger inside of her. She moans a bit more loudly.
“Li-ly,” I call again.
This time she looks up at me through half-closed lids. I smile down at her. “Was that good?”
She nods her head weakly, making me laugh quietly. “I bet it was. Is it my turn now?”
That quickly brings her back to the present and an uneasiness appears on her face. “Don’t worry, I would never hurt you.”
Oh my God. That was the most incredible experience of my life. I had no idea it could be like that. After what happened to me, I’ve purposefully avoided everything of a sexual nature – but now? Now I know what I’ve been denying myself.
Inside of me, his finger moves. “Li-ly.” His voice blankets me like a velvety fog. I open my eyes to find him smiling down at me. “Was that good?”
I nod. I want to tell him that it was more than good, that it was amazing, but I’m unable to find the words. I hear him laugh and then he says, “I bet it was. Is it my turn now?”
I’m suddenly nervous. What do I have to do? I’ve only ever done something like this once before, and it was nothing the way this is turning out.
“Don’t worry,” he reassures me. “I would never hurt you.”
He sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, and I forget my fears as I take in the hard planes of his chest, which are perfectly defined, from the broad shoulders to the light dusting of hair across his chest and then down to his abs that disappear into his jeans.
He gets up, undoes his belt and then the button and zipper of his jeans. I know he’s watching me watch him, but I want to see what’s coming. I’ve never really seen one before. He pulls down his jeans and his underwear in one go and his erection pops out, bobbing in front of him. I bite my lip. I don’t have much to compare it to, but I can’t imagine it fitting where he wants it to.
When I look up at him, his face is in shadow, so it’s hard to gauge what he’s thinking. As he reaches for his wallet on the nightstand and pulls out a condom, I prop my head up on my elbow and watch his cock warily. I wonder what it would feel like in my hand, what it would taste like in my mouth. Restless energy hums inside me at the thought of finally knowing what it will feel like for him to slide into me. I press my thighs together in anticipation.
My eyes follow his hand as he rips the foil open with his teeth and then rolls the condom onto himself, alternating hands until it’s down far enough. It’s the most erotic thing I think I’ve ever seen. My heart starts racing, and my lower half clenches.
“On your back.”
Nervous butterflies explode in my stomach as I comply. He moves between my legs and looks down with a completely reverent look on his face. Hovering over me, he leans in to kiss my lips. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispers again.
Carefully, he positions himself at my entrance. “Knees up.” The head slips in, making me gasp. With his eyes on mine, he pushes gently, but nothing much happens; his eyes sink shut for a moment and he groans, “So tight.”
After a few seconds, he refocuses on me. “You ready?”
He pushes forward again, and this time I feel it.
The pressure is intense and makes me inhale sharply; I want to back away from him. He must feel me tense up because his hands come up under my back and his fingers curl over my shoulders to hold me in place.
He pushes deeper and I can’t stop a cry from escaping. It’s not painful exactly, it’s just so, so invasive.
The muscles inside of me clench around him and he groans again. After a few more seconds, he asks, “Okay?”
I can only take a breath that’s more of a gasp. He pushes, and this time, it feels different – good different, and I feel myself relax. And with that he sinks the rest of the way in. We both groan. “So good,” he murmurs.
He takes a few deep breaths. His elbows have most of his weight, but our foreheads are touching. I’m convinced that I have to stay absolutely still or this perfect moment, this perfect feeling of him filling me, will disappear. But then his body coils and he rocks against me.
“Ohhh,” comes out of my mouth. He pulls out, then pushes in. The feeling of him moving in me is absolutely indescribable. And it gets better and better, building in me like a tempest, especially when his mouth starts devouring mine in time with his strokes that become more and more demanding with his fingers digging into my shoulders. I feel like I’ve been dragged into heaven and thrown down before an altar; except I’m what’s being worshipped, forced to endure the pure, unbearably delicious heat of his desire.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, ripping his mouth from mine. He shifts to pull an arm out from under me and then pushes his fingers into my mouth before he shoves them between us. If I could have jumped out of my skin, I would have. Now with every thrust, he’s pushing, probing, caressing my clit. And like the tipping point of an enormous wave, my orgasm pours itself over into a deep ravine of bliss. This time as my inner muscles quake, they have something to twist and claw at, adding to the screaming rapture. I’m barely aware of him losing his rhythm and then coming to a standstill, panting into my ear.
Neither of us moves, neither of us speaks. With our chests plastered together, I can feel his racing heart thumping away. Our breaths are fast against the other’s shoulder and my arms are wrapped around his neck, my legs around his waist. He’s getting heavy; I can barely breathe, but I don’t care. It’s wonderful.