by S. E. Hall
Her arms come down and she lets it fall to the floor while her sultry eyes stay on mine, blue on blue, Whit on Evan. Just us.
“You steal my breath away, pretty girl. I can’t stop looking at you.” I move and sit on the edge of her bed, pulling her between my legs. My hands run along her sides as I suckle her soft, flat stomach. “So soft, so sexy.”
My girl runs her fingers through my hair, whimpering as I kiss and lick every inch bared to me, taking my sweet time. Her body is more than beautiful, more than tiny and perfect; it’s miraculous, entrancing. I can’t decide if I want to see more yet. Have I done her heavy, rounded breasts justice? Does her navel know yet that I adore it? Her hips, her dips, is that hidden balloon, that balloon that I had put there, ready for me?
She thinks so, her fingers sneaking into her waistband and enticingly, agonizingly slow, pulling down her shorts. No panties. And no soft curls.
“Don’t you move,” I snarl manically. “Aw, babe,” I rub my eyes, just making sure, “Whitley, you’re gonna kill me.” I use one finger to reach out and touch, outlining first my balloon, then her bareness, her beauty.
I’ve seen girls naked, I’ve messed around with a few more than Laney, but I have never even come close to the likes of a naked Whitley Suzanne Thompson. Laney’s a gorgeous girl, her body a toned machine, and everything she showed me was respected and adored…and why I’m thinking about this right now I have no idea, but maybe it’s because Whitley before me is short circuiting my brain.
She’s so…delicate, so feminine, so not of this world. Seriously, her body is a temple; a smokin’, tight, untouched, dainty, bare temple. If I can only pick one body to look at the rest of my life, supermodels around the globe included, I pick the one standing right in front of me. She reaches up and lets her hair down, running her hands through it. I’m gonna come right here, I swear. She looks that good.
She climbs on my lap, straddling me, and pushes me back to lie flat on her bed. That strawberry scented hair of hers falls in my face as she lowers herself over me, kissing and running her tongue over my chest, my nipples, open mouth sucking my her tattoo. “I love your body, Evan.” She blows along the places her mouth left damp, “and this,” she runs a finger down the line of hair from my navel to where the head of my dick now sticks out of my briefs, “I love this.” Scooting, she makes room to peel my underwear off, doing illegal things to both thighs on her way back up.
“In my pants, wallet,” I pant, trying to calm myself as she hops off me to grab a condom or three. I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life, my head fells like it’s about to explode and we’ve barely started. I don’t want to quicknut and spoil our first time. Maybe I should say I have to go to the bathroom and knock one out first?
Or maybe I should share this, however it goes, with the woman who knows the man I am best. That’s right; as a man, the person I am today, Whitley knows me best. And just like I know anything happening with her will be perfect and just as it should be, I know she’ll feel the same.
Too late anyway, she’s crawling back up me, my cock actually twitching up off my stomach on its own. And now we’re draped together, nipple to nipple, stomachs quivering as one, and I can feel her moisture on me. There’s one other thing I’ve never done, and she’s the one. I flip her and chuckle when she squeals, then moan low and euphorically when my tongue, joined by one finger, first finds her.
Her nails dig into my scalp. “Evan, I—”
“You what?” I ask against her.
“I’ve never!” she wails. “Never—”
I guess we’re gonna do a checklist as we go, which is fine by me. If you think it bothers me to get affirmation of everything that she’s chosen to give to only me—it doesn’t. The couple that learns together, stays together. Catchy, I like it.
Girls think guys want them to put out. They do, don’t get me wrong, but a girl who gives it only to you? Yours. Only. Ever…you will never compete with that, no matter what tricks you have up your sleeve, easy girls. Doesn’t matter who or what he is, the sole proprietorship thing is a universal turn-on.
“Me either, pretty girl. It’s okay,” I lay my left hand on her belly to ease her, “I got you, always got you.” I wait, rubbing her stomach, kissing the inside of her thigh. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she answers.
“Open up a little more, baby. That’s it,” I calm her as her knees fall further apart. When I feel her completely relax for me, I lay my mouth upon her once more.
Her hips bucking up wildly, almost startling me. “Ah, Evan!” she cries out. “I need.”
I don’t want to hold down her hips, but, well, I hold down her hips. “I know, baby, stay still for me and I’ll give it you.” I take one long, soothing lick. “Tell me, tongue or finger?”
I’m not too proud to stop and ask for directions. This sexy, thrashing dream come true is gonna come in my mouth, that’s all there is to it. And once I learn what she likes, she’ll never have to tell me again. I am a firm believer in dedication to practice, and pretty sure I’m already addicted to the taste of her.
“Both?” she asks in a shaky voice. “Finger in me…” she gasps as I slide one in, “a-and your tongue?”
Yes, ma’am.
I could do this all night. I’ve heard locker room talk, and I know there are some guys who hate this, refuse to do it—morons. I can’t help thrusting against the mattress in rhythm to my feast of her; it’s that damn enjoyable.
“Faster, and harder with your finger,” check, “and right,” she pulls my hair, forcing my head still as she shifts down, putting my mouth right where she wants it. “There! Right there, Ev, hard, on the very—ahhhhhh!” she screams.
Think I got it.
I dare not move my mouth to lap it up, but stay right where she put me, my chin drenched. My mouth just gave its first of many orgasms to this oral virgin. If possible, I just got harder, my ego bigger.
“You good?” I rumble, kissing up her sated body to her neck. I doubt she wants a kiss on the mouth right now so I stay with her neck.
“We’re staying in the same room at Parker’s right?’
“Yeah,” I chuckle. Addicted little vixen. Whatever will I do with her?
“Just making sure. Really hoping you form habits easily.”
“You’re gonna have to learn to be quieter, though.”
“Promise.” She lifts her head and kisses me square on the mouth. Her tongue seeks mine first and she goes harder, taking control, as if the taste of herself turns her on. “Where’s the—”
My hand pops up in a flash, condom in it.
She slinks down me, ripping open the package, then biting the end of her tongue in concentration as she carefully rolls it on me. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever watched, even with my eyes rolled back in my head.
“Will you hold me afterwards?” she murmurs.
I lift my head slightly and look straight into her eyes, blue on blue, so she’ll see how much I mean it. “All night, babe.”
“So you’ll be here in the morning when I wake up?” she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Yes. Whit, come here.” I hold out my arms, asking her to let me hold her now. “We don’t have to do this, pretty girl.” I kiss the top of her head and cradle her to my chest as she absently traces my tattoo. “We can wait, and nothing will change, I promise. And if we don’t wait, nothing will change, I promise that too.”
“I don’t want to be a tease, but I’m nervous. Sex changes people, and we’re perfect. And boys brag to their friends and that will hurt me. And—”
“Shhh, everything’s fine. Let me assure you now, when the time does comes, I won’t brag to my friends.” I can’t help my small snort. “I think maybe you’ve watched too much Greek, Whit, and by the way I hate that show so I’m happy to help you over that. You just stick with Duck Dynasty; pay attention to how they treat their women. I will never disrespect you, and you’re right, we are pretty prefect. So let’s wait until the
time is perfect too, okay?”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” I kiss the end of her nose as she peers up at me through worried eyes. “Even if I wasn’t, wouldn’t matter, you’re the boss. Just like my mama and Dad; I may fight ya as we get older, but you’re always gonna have the final word.”
“And you’re not mad?”
“Go to sleep, woman, we’ve got a big day ahead of us. You want the music on or off?”
“On,” she answers sleepily.
Surely it can’t be morning already. The music is still playing and it feels like I just fell asleep with an aching, disappointed, not speaking to me dick. But in the dream I was having, my hummingbird’s sweet pink mouth was wrapped around me, her fingers tickling below, and he was just about to forgive me. Yeah, it felt almost that good, like that—
“Whitley?”
“Mmmm?”
I lift the covers and look down. Not a dream. “Damn, babe,” I rumble, “what got into you?”
I watch, enjoying the show, while she ignores me, hollowing her cheeks in utter bliss, twirling her tongue right under the rim before pulling off.
“I’m ready,” she says in a deep, seductive voice as she rolls a new condom down me.
Like a moron, a brain dead glutton for punishment, I say, “Whit, I told you we could wait. What changed your mind?”
“You did. You talk in your sleep, did you know that?”
“No.”
“You do. And if I ask you stuff, you answer.” She prowls up my body, kissing a trail. “I trust you, and I want you too. Now,” she adjusts, teasing her wetness along the length of me.
“Whitttt,” I drawl out, crazed and feigning.
“I’m right here.” She lifts and guides me to her, taking in just the tip. “Ahh!” she cries out.
I pull back and turn us so that she’s on her back. “It’ll hurt less this way, baby.” I use my fingers to spread her moisture, then use another to stretch her while I suck a soft nipple slowly.
“Perfect song,” she moans.
Only Whitley, I think with a grin, knowing she will probably hum this song every time we make love for the rest of our lives. Fine by me. I love her humming, her voice, this song…it’s on my Hummingbird playlist after all.
When she’s writhing, mumbling and begging incoherently, my fingers having about got her there, I slide in as slowly and gently as I can. I’ll never forget this moment as long as I live, the exact second I first joined with Whitley Suzanne Thompson, her back arching off the bed and her mouth dropping open, “Sideways” by Citizen Cope setting the perfect mood and saying the perfect words.
“All at once, babe, go,” she tells me and winces, grabbing my ass and pulling me deeper.
I feel it, can actually feel it break, and she screams in sharp acuteness, killing me. “Shhh, I’m sorry, pretty girl, I’m so—”
“No, I’m okay, keep going.” She sucks in a deep breath. “Slow,” she murmurs, one tear dripping down her cheek.
I bow my head and lick the tear off, then kiss all over her face as I rock into her, closing my eyes and absorbing the madness of it all; my head’s spinning, my heart beating frantically, sweat building on my back. Being inside her, it feels… There’s nothing like it, nothing. “Whitley, I love you,” I let my head fall back, “love you.”
“I know, you told me.” A sobbing moan breaks from her. “Me too, Ev, me too, so much.” Her arms wrap around me, then her legs. “You feel so good, so close to me. Never stop.” I feel her hand move down between us, and, oh, fuck me I’m done.
“’Bout to, ahhh, Whit, hurry!” I fight it, I fight it like hell, but the sight of her finger helping herself is my unraveling. It works its way up my legs, a bolt of electricity the likes of which I’ve couldn’t have possibly imagined, until I’m erupting inside her and she’s there with me, her muscles clenching over and over in rhythm to my thrusts.
It can’t possibly be like this for everyone, with just anyone, every time…society would cease to function, the world meeting its demise as no one would do anything but this, all day, every day, twice, ten times, anywhere she says.
Taking another minute to come back to reality, my forearms shaking under my weight, I don’t readily notice that Whitley is crying. What the hell have I done?
“Baby,” I leave her body and roll to her side, “why are, oh God, did I hurt you?” I choke out, kissing her forehead, stroking her hair.
“No,” she laughs, wiping her eyes, “happy tears.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She nods, wrapping a hand around my neck and pulling my face to hers. “I’m almost positive it’s not supposed to be that perfect and special your first time.” She giggles almost to herself. “Thank you for setting such a wonderful precedent.”
“It was, wasn’t it? I love you, Whitley, with all my heart, I do.”
“I know you do.” She rolls to me, snuggling into the crook of my arm.
I should probably clean up, but I don’t have the heart to move her.
“You told me in your sleep,” she admits. “That’s how I knew for sure. You could dream of anything, anyone, but you dream of me.”
“And I talk back?”
“Uh huh.”
“Did you ask me embarrassing stuff, you little sneak?” I tickle her, basking in the sound of her laughter.
“Well, yeah,” she squirms, “you’d do the same thing.”
“So tell me our conversation.” I use this break in intimacy to get up and amble into her bathroom to get cleaned up.
“You said ‘I love you,’ so I asked ‘who do you love’ and you said ‘you.”
I’m just right inside her adjoining bathroom, with the door open, so I can more than make out the happiness in her voice, which tells me that even in my sleep, I got it right.
“So I said ‘what’s my name’ and you said ‘pretty girl,’” she giggles, “which was very sweet, but I dug deeper, you understand. Anyway, I said ‘noooo, what’s my real name?’ and you said ‘my Whitley.’”
I stick my head around the corner and wink at her, never catching a cuter sight than her teeth tugging her bottom lip and eyes glistening.
“I am your Whitley,” she whispers and smiles so sweetly.
“And then you ravaged me?” I joke, wanting her pretty eyes to clear up.
“Something like that.” She shrugs. “What are you doing anyway? Get back in bed with me,” she pats the spot beside her.
“Whit, baby, don’t freak out, but you need to come in here.” I turn and start the bath water, tossing in a washcloth for her. “Come on,” I give her my hand, “I know it’s late, but get in for me okay? You relax and soak, and I’ll take care of stuff and come back and get you, and then I’ll hold you all night.”
“What,” she rises, gauging my eyes then turning back to look at the bed, “oh,” she blushes adorably. “How’d you—”
“There was blood on the condom, babe. No worries, I’ll take care of everything.” I kiss her head. “Get in.”
“Ev?” Her little voice stops me at the door. She’s probably going to ask for some “period pills,” which I’m already on top of.
“Yeah?”
“You’re my angelfish.”
“Still no idea what that means, babe,” I chuckle, “but I’m glad. Now soak, woman.”
Chapter 31
Fornication
~Evan~
“Evan Mitchell Allen, I know you’re in here and I know you saw me pull up! Get out here and kiss your mother, boy!”
She’s bluffing.
“One!”
Shit.
“Two!”
“All right,” I come out from behind the hay bales, “I’m twenty years old, quit your countin’!”
“Why are you hiding from me?” She sticks out her cheek and taps it, so I kiss it. “And where is my darling Whitley? I found the cutest dress in town today,” she lifts the bag in her hand, “I want her to try it on.”
&nbs
p; “I imagine she’s in the house; I’m not sure. And I was hiding because I don’t want another lecture about staying at the house again. Whitley’s probably hiding from you too.”
She gaps, holding her heart and giving me a look that shrinks me to nothing on the spot. “She wouldn’t! Breaks my heart, my only son home, right up the road and too ashamed to stay under his own mama’s roof. And turning Whitley against me! Well, I just can’t imagine what I’ve ever done to deserve this from my only child.”
Thank God I’m wearing my boots, cause she is laying it on thick.
“Mama, I’m not ashamed. I wanna sleep in a bed with Whit, plain and simple. I can do that here.”
“What does her mother say about that?”
“Her mother doesn’t say much about anything. Her parents each call once a month, the exact same date and time every time; real personal, like an appointment,” I scoff loudly, wishing they were here in front of my mom right now. She adores Whitley and I salivate just thinking how she’d tear into them. “And Whitley’s almost twenty-two years old, Mom, she can sleep where she wants.”
“Have you talked to your father about it?”
“Yes, he thinks you’re crazy.”
“Did he say that, that exact word—crazy?”
“Yes, more than once.” I look around, not wanting to just outright laugh at her reddening cheeks.
“Evan, honey, she’s such a nice young lady. I wouldn’t want you to—”
“Mama.”
“What?”
“I love her, and she loves me back. Not because I’m around, or like a buddy, she loves me.” I smile. “Told me she’s dying to fill up your house with spoiled little grandbabies.”
“Evan Mitchell!” She tries to act scandalized, but I know she’s holding babies in her mind’s eye as we speak.
“I’m gonna marry her one day and she’s gonna marry me right back. And we’re gonna fornicate, often, until we’re too old to do it without throwing a hip out. I’m careful, so is she, but if you want us there, then know I’m holding that girl in my arms all night, every night. Say yes or accept me staying here, please?” I give her the ol’ Evan one sided grin, then really see if I can embarrass her. “I’d never let you hear us.”