by Hazel Kelly
“Prove it,” I said, leaning up to meet his mouth.
His tongue probed so deep in mine it made me gush, and when he slid a hand under me, I arched my back to make it easy for him to unhook my bra.
As soon as the clasp came undone, he scooted down so his heavy body was between my legs and took my breasts in his mouth one by one, teasing my nipples with his teeth and tongue until chills ran up my spine.
I watched the muscles in his shoulders move as his hands massaged my tits, squeezing a moan from me that broke the safe silence around us.
He lowered himself down even further then, kissing his way past my belly button and fingering the edge of my thin panties.
“Don’t tease me,” I said. “It’s cruel.”
He smiled and pulled my underwear down before curling his fingertips along my slit. His touch was so gentle it was torturous, but the growl that escaped his throat when he discovered how wet I was gave away how much restraint he was using to go so slow.
“Please, Landon, I need to feel you inside me.”
He laughed and crawled over me again. “I like it when you beg,” he said, reaching to the side and pulling a condom from his nightstand’s top drawer.
Part of me wanted to say “forget it.” I didn’t want anything between us anymore. I wanted to feel every inch of his hard flesh as deeply as I could, but I knew it would be wrong to ask that of him. Especially when he was being so respectful of me…unlike selfish lovers I’d had in the past, lovers who treated my body like a means to an end and my pleasure like it was secondary.
But Landon wasn’t like that. He always put me first.
“Let me,” I said, taking the packet from him and tearing it open.
He knelt over me, his dick dark with the strain of his desire.
I tossed the packet on the floor and pinched the tip of the latex disc as I held it against his head. Then I rolled it down slowly, my pussy contracting when I saw how tightly it pulled against his smooth skin.
It wasn’t until I’d rolled it all the way down that I noticed I’d been holding my breath. I gasped to fill my lungs and looked up at him.
His stomach rippled with his breath as he held my gaze, staring me more deeply in the eye than anyone ever had.
But I didn’t look away. I wanted him to see how much I wanted this, how much I wanted him, how much I always had.
He moved back onto all fours without taking his eyes off me, grabbed his dick, and placed the tip of his head against my slit.
I’d had dreams like this before, but this was always when I woke up, right before he slid inside me. But this time things went further. I felt his swollen head push in and bit my lip, my eyes still locked on his.
A few inches later, he asked if I was okay.
I nodded and squeezed his strong arms.
He sank deeper.
The initial pain of his girth melted into a liquid warmth that spread through me, warming my fingers and toes. “More,” I whispered, watching his jaw clench as he gave me another inch.
The base of him was even wider, and even he flinched at the tight fit.
“Give it all to me,” I breathed, lightheaded from the energy my body was using just to accommodate him.
He held himself still.
I could feel him throbbing deep inside me. “Please.”
He pushed the rest of the way in, and I whimpered, my body stunned as my head pushed back against his pillows. “Oh God,” I breathed, squeezing my eyes shut to protect my overwhelmed senses from taking on any more.
He lowered his face and kissed my neck. The gesture felt so tender compared to the intense sensation of having his dick buried inside me, my body pulsing around it.
I took a deep breath, and he began to rock his hips lightly, massaging me with his swollen length. After only a few thrusts, my eyes rolled back in my head and my limbs became those of a rag doll. I was no longer in control. The pleasure was too much, the glorious feeling of him reaching so deep more wonderful than I ever imagined.
When I finally managed to open my eyes again, I found him looking down at me with an expression that told me he was equally entranced.
I didn’t want to just lie there, but he was too big for me to get creative. All I could do was lie back and take him, thrust after body-filling thrust.
“You feel amazing,” I said, once I got used to his measured rhythm.
“So do you,” he said, dropping his forehead against mine.
“Do you need to go faster?” I asked, wanting him to enjoy himself as much as I was.
“No,” he said. “Not unless you want me to.”
“I don’t know if I can handle that yet,” I said, surprised to hear myself say it. After all, I thought we would fuck each other’s brains out when we finally got the chance, but it felt right to savor this moment we’d waited so long for. “This is actually perfect.”
His smile tugged towards his scar. Then he tilted his hips to work me deeper and buried his face in my hair.
I wrapped my arms around his back, feeling overcome with bliss at having him so close, so deep, so totally.
Soon after, when the heat in my body was almost too much, he reached down and worked me from the outside, too, observing the expressions of pleasure that flickered across my face until he found the exact rhythm that would send me over the edge.
And in the end, we came together, our bodies entangled as we looked in each other’s eyes and watched them fill with ecstasy.
T H I R T Y
- Landon -
I was happy before I even opened my eyes, as if I’d been having a sweet dream but couldn’t quite remember what it was about. But when I opened them, I realized my sweet dream had been real.
Margot lay beside me on her back, her softly breathing body shrouded by only a thin sheet as my light comforter had bunched down over her legs.
She looked so peaceful and relaxed, which gave me a sense of pride and made me determined not to wake her. It was an unfamiliar feeling for me.
Usually on the rare occasion that I brought a woman home, I couldn’t wait for her to leave. Sometimes I even made unnecessary noise or got dressed and pretended I had to be somewhere, going so far as to act like I’d mentioned it previously and was irritated that she forgot.
I knew it wasn’t a kind thing to do, of course, but the approach served several purposes. For one thing, being brusque the next morning was much easier than asking a woman to leave, since the latter would always be taken personally. Secondly, it prevented an awkward invitation to grab brunch or coffee, which would likely include unwelcome questions about my personal life that I was loath to answer drunk, much less sober. Worse, it might be misconstrued as a second date or the willingness to organize one, and the last thing I ever wanted was a second date.
After all, second dates were for people who were interested in third dates and fourth dates and intimacy, which I could scarcely tolerate the thought of.
I didn’t know why. Maybe it was because I’d been on my own so long I couldn’t imagine the alternative. Or perhaps I was simply put off by the idea of devoting my life to another person’s happiness only to have it blow up in my face, a fate I’d seen destroy my own father. Either way, my devotion to self-preservation made it absolutely essential that I keep women at a cautious distance.
Sure, sometimes it was hard to tell whether it was those measures that had kept my heart from being broken again after my mom’s disappearance or if it just still was broken, but I was satisfied with the way things were going. Until this morning, when I suddenly realized there was more to life than avoiding pain.
More specifically, I couldn’t stop thinking about the look in Margot’s eyes when she came with me. It was like I could see not only the depth of her ecstasy but also how lost in her I was.
It was electric, that moment of connection between us. Like color in a black-and-white world, music in a soundless vacuum, lightning in a rain cloud.
Her slightly parted lips released a s
oft sigh, and I watched her eyelids flicker but stay closed, her dark lashes flat against her soft cheeks. Never before had someone’s serenity felt so contagious.
I’d heard rumors that this feeling existed—this lightness, this clarity. But I’d never experienced it myself before. It was strangely calming, though, like the way it must be for someone who’s just found their true calling. Or an addict who’s finally learned to see through sober eyes.
I wondered if this was how Matt felt when he first met Kelsey. Because that might help explain how quickly he grew up. Honestly, in the amount of time it took him to pump two cups full of keg beer, it was like he’d figured it all out.
He didn’t say much about it at that point. I don’t think he had the words then. It wasn’t until six months later that he told me he was going to marry her after we graduated. That’s when I knew he’d finally made sense of the shift inside him and recognized the role she’d played in it.
But how could I possibly tell him I felt the same about his little sister? How could I explain that the me I wanted to be was the me I was with her? How could I convince him that I’d known this all along and never mentioned it?
I sighed and pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind. None of that shit mattered now. What mattered was making sure I didn’t fuck up this morning. Because I did want a second date and a third, and intimacy, well, as terrified as I was to admit it, it was already baked right in.
I could no more hide who I was from Margot than I could’ve kept from coming last night, and it would be a waste of energy to pretend I could. Besides, the game was up. She’d thoroughly convinced me that she wasn’t a little girl anymore and that she didn’t need my protection.
In fact, much to my relief, she didn’t need anything from me. She just wanted me. Like I wanted her.
And it would be crazy for two adults to fight this feeling. Not that I felt any less crazy this morning than I’d felt every day for the last decade. It was just a different kind of crazy I was experiencing now, a happier kind, a kind that was energy-giving instead of energy-zapping.
A kind that made me understand why two imperfect people might decide to revel in each other’s flaws for a lifetime.
God, I was grateful she’d finally mustered up the nerve to seduce some sense into me, forcing me from the doorway to the friend zone, where I’d been firmly wedged for so long it was a wonder I hadn’t started collecting moss.
I shook my head, marveling at what a lucky idiot I was.
Then I took one last look at Margot, admiring the way her shiny blonde hair spilled across my pillows, before slipping out of bed and heading to the kitchen to see what I might offer sleeping beauty when she woke up.
T H I R T Y O N E
- Margot -
I smelled crispy bacon before I opened my eyes but was convinced it was only a dream…until I stretched my leg out and noticed it didn’t hit a wall.
In the next instant, my eyes popped open and I was shaken by a flash of memories, as if my brain had been cued up to download last night’s events upon my waking.
I smiled when I registered the satisfying soreness between my legs. Landon. He’d finally made a woman out of me like I always wanted him to, and it was better than I ever dreamed it could be.
I rolled my head towards his side of the bed, and his absence led my attention to the cracked bedroom door. The sound of a sizzle followed, proving the yummy smells I’d noticed hadn’t been imagined.
My stomach growled as I sat up, pulling the thin sheet with me. I tucked it under my armpits and reached forward to smooth his light comforter back over the bed. “Morning,” I said, my first word of the day coming out a bit scratchy.
Landon appeared at the door in nothing but his boxers, and I found myself momentarily mesmerized by the sight of his strong thighs.
“Morning,” he said, calling my attention back up to his face. “How did you sleep?”
“Wonderfully.” I leaned into the pillows behind me. “You?”
“Best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time.”
My eyes smiled.
“Hungry?” he asked, his expression full of hope.
“Something tells me it would be a mistake to say no.”
“Is that a yes?”
I nodded.
“In that case, don’t move,” he said. “Your breakfast in bed is on its way.”
“You don’t have to bring it to me. I should get up.”
“I disagree. My bed has never looked better.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you insist.”
“I do,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.
The sound of cupboards opening and closing followed, and I looked around his tidy bedroom, admiring the blue color palette I’d failed to appreciate the night before. I didn’t know if he chose it, but I thought it suited him either way, and I liked the simple white and gray accent pieces he’d picked to match, most of which looked like they came right out of an Ikea catalogue.
The only obvious personal effects included the gym bag by his closed closet doors, and his bookshelf, which was stacked mostly with biographies of elite athletes and historical figures. However, on the second shelf from the top, two framed pictures caught my eye.
One was of him as a young boy sitting at the end of a narrow dock beside his dad, each of them poised with rod in hand as if they didn’t know it was being taken. The other was of him as a teenager the year he came down to Florida with my family for spring break.
I had to squint to see it from the bed, but it only took me a moment to recognize the photo. It was the one where we all looked the same height at first glance because I was in the middle with my arms around Landon and Matt’s shoulders, but my feet were half a foot off the ground. Meanwhile, the three of us were bookended by my mom, who was wearing the big sun hat that always made her feel like a celebrity, and my dad, who was rocking a stripe of zinc on his nose and a criminally high sock tan.
I was still smiling at the picture when Landon came in with a tray of food and headed over to my side of the bed.
“Breakfast is served,” he said.
My heart skipped a beat as I took in the glorious feast he’d prepared. There was a glass of orange juice and a cup of steaming tea in one corner of the tray. Opposite that was a small plate covered in extra-crispy bacon. Finally, the large plate in the middle was covered to its edges by a fresh Belgian waffle, which was dusted with powdered sugar and piled high with freshly sliced strawberries on a bed of whipped cream. “Wow.”
“Bon appétit,” he said, heading back to the kitchen.
“You didn’t have to fire up the waffle iron for me,” I called after him.
“It was no trouble,” he said, coming back in with a tray for himself that looked almost the same except his waffle had a fraction of the fruit.
“Did you have all this stuff on hand?” I asked, sliding my silverware from the paper towel he’d wrapped it in.
“Most of it,” he said, setting his tray on the other side of the bed before climbing up next to it.
He looked good enough to eat without his shirt on, but I wasn’t about to waste the feast he’d so thoughtfully prepared, especially when the mere sight of him was enough to stoke my already healthy appetite. “And the rest?”
“There’s a gourmet grocery store downstairs.”
I studied his bed head. “You don’t look like someone who’s been out shopping.
“If you’re a resident here, you get free five-minute delivery.”
“Oh, of course. Silly me. I’m sure I have the same in my building and just haven’t realized it yet.”
He smiled and passed me a little cup of syrup.
“Thanks.” I took it and drizzled zigzags across my waffle. “I could get used to this,” I said, passing it back so he could do the same.
“Well, I’d love an excuse to get the waffle iron out more,” he said, catching my eye.
There was a strange tension between us, like much was being lef
t unsaid. Yet words seemed inadequate. So for a while, we simply ate in silence, surrounded by a sexual energy that was so apparent it was amusing.
“This is delicious,” I said finally, meaning it in more ways than one.
“I’m glad.”
“Good thing I didn’t wake up first,” I said, taking a big bite.
He raised his eyebrows.
“We’d be having burnt toast.”
He laughed. “As long as it’s generously buttered, I wouldn’t turn it down.”
“Good to know.”
“So do you have any plans for today?”
“Not really,” I said. “Besides not pinching myself.”
He smirked and took a sip of orange juice.
“My roommate has a matinee, so I’ll probably just chill at home and—”
“Have you been to see her show yet?”
I shook my head and shoved a forkful of strawberries in my mouth.
“You want to check it out?”
I covered my mouth. “Today?”
He shrugged. “If you like.”
A warmth spread through my chest as I swallowed.
“I realize the normal thing to do would be to play it cool, not call you for a few days, and let you wonder if I even want a second date.”
I held my breath.
“But I was thinking we could just skip that crap and enjoy a nice Saturday together.”
“I’d like that,” I said, agreeing it would seem silly to part ways and spend the whole day thinking about each other when we could be holding hands in a dark theater. Plus, seeing Izzy’s show would be way more fun with company.
“Great. I haven’t been to a show in ages. I’m looking forward to it.”
“It should be good,” I said, plucking a piece of bacon from my side plate and dipping it in some whipped cream. “Izzy makes me read all her good reviews anyway, and there are always new ones.”
“And if it’s crap, I can help you think of nice things to say about it.”