by Jane Lark
Well I was gonna teach her body how, and her head would have to catch up.
She had said she wanted.
I kissed and bit her neck, my fingers drawing in and out.
She’d been turned off, but she was moist, and her internal skin soft like satin. My painful erection pushed at her hip and my thumb brushed her too, to hold her mind on me.
She started relaxing, her weight resting against the tiles.
I longed for her to move––to rock against my hand. But this was only acceptance, not participation. Let… She stood still, just limper than before.
But she’d said she wanted.
I brushed kisses across her cheek, then whispered in her ear. “If kissing is tag, then sex is a competition, honey. You’re meant to fight for it.”
“Fight for what?” Her eyes flew open. She had been thinking of me and what I was doing, the assurance shone a bright sparkle in her eyes.
“For your end. Race me to it, or tease me and hold it back. Rock your hips against my hand.”
“I can’t, that’s––”
“You can do anything you want.”
“And if I don’t want.”
“Trust me, you’ll want. You wanted to get better at this. If you want to get better, then you’re going to have to be brave.”
“Okay.”
“Rock your hips.” My last words came out sharp, but she needed someone to push her through her barrier of fear.
Her hips moved and brushed my erection as she rocked them forward into my hand. I groaned. I couldn’t help it. Her head turned, her gaze catching mine like she thought I’d forced out the sound.
“You are beautiful, Lindy. You really need to know it.”
I dropped to my knees. It was probably too soon, but I just couldn’t hold back. The girl was Hollywood, brushing into my hand, and it called to my tongue.
I kissed her belly. Her muscle stiffened, but she kept moving. I kissed her hip bone, then swept the tip of my tongue from there to her belly button. Then from there I started kissing a pathway down as my fingers and my thumb worked.
Lindy
I wanted to cry, and scream… and melt. The water running over my body sucked me into a pool of sensation––pleasure––terror.
My fingers gripped hard in his hair and his tongue touched me.
I’d never understood why people wanted to be this intimate. But I knew Jason was with Rachel.
He’d always wanted to do it with me and I’d never let him. It was just too weird, too personal. Too close to imperfection and people seeing the truth about me.
“Ahhh.” Billy didn’t seem to care.
His tongue played. I kept moving my hips. Following the rhythm he set with his fingers. Each time I rocked forward his tongue waited for me. Teasing the sensitive spot his thumb brushed when I pulled back.
My fingers clasped tighter in his hair as the terror ran away like the water dripping off us. He was right. I wanted this.
His fingers increased their pace. In. Out.
I leaned all my weight against the wall, my thighs quaking with a desire to give way––to fall and let him do whatever he wanted.
He wasn’t going to stop. I didn’t want him to. The only thing to do was do as he’d said––race.
When I was younger I’d had a competitive streak as strong as him and Jason.
Don’t think. I shut my eyes tighter. All I could see was black. Race!
My fingers pulled his head and his tongue back to me when he took it away as I rocked back. I didn’t go so far back either, teasing him, using the sensitive tip he was after as bait for him to chase.
Sensations wrapped around me, tying me up in a charm, like he’d been doing all day in the pool.
Involuntarily my fingers released his hair, then gripped it again as I rocked forward, using his pattern of invasion as a guide.
“I like it.” I whispered into the steamy air. My eyes still shut so I could hide from the girl who’d said that.
His tongue wasn’t there when I rocked forward. “Thank fuck for that…” A deep rumbling laugh stirred up a new sensation… “Lind.”
I opened my eyes, looked down and met his dark-blue gaze. The onyx circles at the heart of his eyes were really wide.
“Race me…” The words rolled over gravel in his throat. It was a challenge.
He was on.
I pushed against his fingers as they invaded, and held his mouth to me, learning every trigger for the sensations roaring up inside me, and moving my body to intensify every little thing.
It had not felt like this when I’d lain on the bed alone.
People said eating chocolate was as good as an orgasm. Oh Lord, no. Chocolate did not feel as good as this.
But then an odd new feeling peaked and swelled––“You’re gonna make me pee.”
He glanced up laughing. “You won’t pee. And even if you did I wouldn’t care. Just relax.” His thumb released its pressure as he looked back down, at me, watching his thumb brush over me, admiring what he saw with an awe that was crazy.
Then without looking up he leaned forward and his lips settled over the sensitive place his thumb had brushed and he sucked.
Shit. My fingers gripped in a spasm of desperation in his hair, as sensation roared through me––he’d said I’d want him to do it.
I wanted.
Was that my breath releasing in pants into the steamy air in the shower.
Yes.
Billy. Oh, Billy.
This was so crazy. Heat burned under my skin, a need to race…
He sucked harder and his fingers pushed right up into me, with a hard thrust…
I shut my eyes, falling back against the tiles as it came in on me––the wave of sensation I’d discovered yesterday morning––rolling over the top of me, but now it swilled through my body like a tsunami, rushing into every limb and every nerve.
“Lind.” My name was agonized hot breath as he pulled my hips further forward, and then his tongue invaded me.
I was Jell-O. My thighs shook, my fingers clinging in his hair.
This was why Jason had left me. This is what he’d discovered with Rachel.
No wonder. No wonder…
Jason had never touched me with any determination, ever. Why? Why had he not been able to give me this?
Pounding out a hard rhythm of need, my heart pumped heated blood around my body, as my soul fell into this new intoxicating world.
Liquid gold scorched through my veins.
It was no longer a choice to press back against Billy. I had to. My body cried out to. My fingers clasping clumps of his wet hair as the shower poured out more water on to us.
His tongue pushed into me, as his fingers gripped my buttocks, pulling them apart, and teasing me with the closeness of his fingertips. Nothing I’d ever seen Billy do had been half measures… He was a full-on guy…. Even in this…
Oh heavens. That sensation was coming again.
My body jolted and I slid a little down the tiles on the wall. My legs had no feeling. The wave of sensation ripped through me, swilling around my body, then sucked back, like the wave had done on the beach, and he took full advantage, his tongue moving deep within me… I could be in no doubt he liked this…
Billy stood. The grip of his fingers, now holding me up as his tongue pressed into my mouth.
He tasted weird. Of me.
I kissed him back with a new desperation to our game of tag, but then he gripped my hand, lifted it and put it against his erection.
I couldn’t.
“Billy I––”
“It’s okay I don’t want you to do the same. Just help me jerk myself off, you’re surely not mean enough to leave me hanging…”
My fingers beneath his, he wrapped them about the hard column of flesh.
I looked into his eyes, not down… He didn’t look away, like he understood I needed him to look at me.
He moved his hand, running mine up. I was scared again. Relax. I
heard the word in his voice.
Fight it! I didn’t want to be afraid anymore. I wanted to be happy.
I stopped letting him control my grip and held him harder.
He groaned.
I pressed my tongue into his mouth, taking over the game of tag. He sighed a breath into mine. When I lifted my weight off the tiles, my breasts brushed against his chest. His body shook, then his hand suddenly moved mine faster––up and down––in swift, firm strokes.
He broke the kiss. His breathing heavy and his eyes dark.
My other hand gripped at the first curve of his buttock, as my gaze clung to his.
His strokes got faster, moving my hand, and a dimple cut into his cheek as the muscle in his jaw bunched. He was clenching his teeth.
I had never watched Jason orgasm.
Billy’s gaze clouded, like he couldn’t focus on me anymore, and he cried out. His hips grinding into our joined hands, as his flesh pulsed, pumping out a sticky fluid on my belly.
He leaned forward, his cheek pressing against my wet hair as his free arm came around me.
He was riding the wave.
Now I knew what Jason had felt when we’d done it. Why he’d liked it, and why he’d wanted to do it more. Because it felt good.
I hadn’t thought about being naked, or what I looked like, or about Mom for at least half an hour. But those feelings crashed back in on me now as he pulled away.
He looked down, letting my hand go. The back of his fingers ran over my belly, as his other hand moved me beneath the water to wash it clean.
“You okay?” he said, looking back up.
I nodded. Then I admitted, “Apart from feeling a crazy load of awkward right now.”
“You don’t need to feel awkward.” His pitch dropped. “That was awesome.” He looked away, reaching out to the dispenser to squirt some of the free shower gel on his palm. “I’ll wash you. Then you can wash me.”
He even washed my hair, massaging shampoo and then conditioner into it, combing his fingers through it and making me hold my head under the shower. Next he put soap on a washcloth and carefully washed my makeup off. No one had seen me without makeup since I’d been fourteen… not even Mom and Dad. But then I had never seen Mom without makeup ever.
I shut my eyes, nausea tumbling in my belly. I was completely naked––standing before Billy. He was the only person who’d seen me like this.
The cloth ran over my body, exploring every curve. I didn’t open my eyes, just tried to breathe and not think, and not panic.
With all that strength, he was really gentle.
When he finished, the water still cascading, he pressed a brief kiss on my lips. “You can stop hiding and open your eyes now.”
A jolt flipped something in my belly, sending up butterflies.
He gave me the cloth. “Wash my back.” he turned.
He was making me do all this stuff with an insistent determination, daring me not to pull back, to take his challenges, but he was also doing it wisely, making this a little easier for me.
I ran the soapy cloth over the broad expanse of his back, following the contours of the muscle down to his hips. I understood a little why he wanted to touch me. He had a hot body. I mean everything was right proportion, right place… built like art…
He’d touched me like he’d thought I was hot…
I ran the cloth over his buttock, and then slid it to the other side.
He held still. Letting me do whatever without comment.
He was daring me…
“Turn around.”
He did.
I hadn’t looked down before. I looked at the nest of dark hair and his penis hanging limp.
This still scared the hell out of me. It was way too personal. I looked up and caught him watching me. He smiled.
I smiled, though it was timid.
He gripped my hand and pressed it and the washcloth on his belly. “Don’t lose your nerve now…”
I held his gaze and smiled, determined. My hand moved up first, to his chest. Then I looked down again and watched, following the cut of his pecks, tracing the lines of his leopard tattoo over mounds of hard muscle. His muscle jolted beneath the cloth as it passed over his nipple. He had a sprinkle of dark-brown hairs that trailed downwards, narrowing toward his groin.
There was nothing that put me off.
I didn’t want to stop touching him, and even when I got down to his junk I carried on, getting as intimate with him as he had with me. He laughed.
A little weight lifted from my shoulders as I laughed too, my gaze flicking up and catching on his for an instant. I had never laughed over anything sexual. Sex had been sufferance and torture for me, and I’d tried to be right and had been so horribly wrong.
Tears blurred Billy’s face.
He gripped my hand. “Do my hair for me. Then we’re done.” His pitch was deep and gravelly.
Were we going to get into bed and do it properly? Excitement warred with panic.
When I spoke to my counselor next time, I was going to talk about this. I had something wrong with me. I knew it now. Why did I get so afraid of being intimate and exposed?
Rachel had called me frigid; Billy said weird.
Why was I different?
I didn’t want to be different.
I shut my eyes as I reached over to the dispenser beyond him. Fighting to ignore the screams in my head reminding me he was looking at my face when I didn’t have makeup on. He could see me. The me I hid––the me who always seemed to fail. The me who hurt so bad. The me who felt too guilty to fight that pain. I had no escape, only the chance of somewhere to hide.
I opened my eyes and he smiled at me as my hands lifted to rub the shampoo into his hair. I desperately wanted to tell him to turn around again. But I didn’t, I held out, knowing he looked at my face the whole time.
When I was done, he stepped under the water, not waiting to be told, and his hands lifted to rinse the shampoo out himself. I guess he knew I’d reached the margins of my limit.
He turned the water off, then grabbed a big towel from the rack beside the shower and tossed it at me. “See you in the room, I need a pee.”
Nervous and shaking, I wrapped the towel around me. It brought a sense of security as I walked back into the bedroom.
It was the same room I’d walked into an hour ago and yet it felt different.
Everything was different.
A part of me just wanted Billy to go, so I could lie down and try to put everything that had happened into a place in my head.
I hadn’t understood myself; I was beginning to. I needed time to think, and I needed help from my counselor.
But I’d taken a step forward today. I could never go back.
“Do you want to go out and get something to eat?” Billy’s towel hung from his hips, tucked in below his belly button. Even his belly button was beautiful.
Did he know I’d freaked a bit?
“Yeah, I could do with a walk. I don’t think I am gonna be great company, though. My head is spinning with stuff, Billy.”
If I walked outside, would I discover an apocalypse had hit the world?
Maybe the streets were full of zombies.
Or maybe it was just me…
“I’ll go back to my room and change.”
I nodded, not sure what to say.
Chapter Seven
Billy
When I knocked for Lindy, she had on another flimsy little cotton dress. It flowed to mid-thigh.
I guess the one thing she didn’t mind about her body was her legs.
But her makeup was back on. The layer of foundation presenting flawlessness and hiding if she blushed. Her painted cupid’s-bow lips smiled at me. The fake color not much different from the skin beneath.
Tonight’s eye shadow of choice… a pale brown-and-gold blend.
At least it looked natural. She did look beautiful, but I had a feeling her makeup hid something.
She’d looked better wi
thout it to me. She had nothing to hide.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
A different purse hung from her shoulder, a little tan one, but again it had a long strap and it dangled to hang just below her ass, drawing my eye to the suggestion of the curve of it through the flowing cloth of her dress.
Her jacket hung in her other hand.
“Here…” I held out a hand to take it. Then I held it up so she could slip her arms into it. She was gonna get cold in that little dress.
I didn’t really want to go out to eat. I was hungry for food. But I was hungrier for her.
I’d have just taken her to bed for three hours had this been my choice and maybe ordered something in. But Lindy was a whole barrel full of hang-ups, and taking things too far too quick was probably a bad idea. So I was taking her out and giving her time to adjust to the idea that she’d let me do a really intimate thing.
It had scared her to death, but she’d enjoyed it, the sweet intensity of her orgasm had been the defining answer to that.
She made me laugh.
She was such an anomaly.
I wanted to call Jason. My thumb had actually hovered over his name in my contacts. But I hadn’t called. What the fuck had my best friend been doing leaving her with all this garbage in her head? Okay, I knew Jason was not the pushy type. If she’d said no, he’d have just taken no full stop and not touched a discussion about why. But he could have convinced her there was nothing wrong with her body…
Didn’t they call it body dysmorphic disorder, when someone was obsessed by imagined flaws in their figure or face?
We’d been told all about that stuff when I’d been working toward my degree. We’d been warned that some people didn’t need to exercise, they needed psychological help.
That was Lindy.
At least she was getting it now.
I gripped her fingers and slotted mine in between hers, squeezing tight. “You didn’t need to put your makeup back on. You’re really pretty without it.”
She stopped walking, her hand tugging mine. I stopped too, turning to look at her.