by Lane, Bayli
“Me too.” I kiss his lips. They feel the same—comforting, soft. It’s just what I need to feel right now. I need the reminder of who we are together. We’re a slow, steady, burning star in the sky. Sander’s like my favorite star. It’s always there. Sometimes its hidden by the clouds and it feels like it’s missing, but as soon as those clouds move away the star is right back where it belongs. Sander puts his hand on the back of my neck and deepens the kiss. His lips push my own open. His tongue meets mine in a familiar dance. A soft moan escapes my lips as he continues to devour me. He pushes me backward until I feel my knees meet the bed.
Sander pulls away and looks at me with need and desire. “Let’s not fight any more,” he says and then kisses the side of my lips and makes his way to my neck and ear. I let myself soak in every single sensation. With every gentle kiss of his lips I forget about all the problems we’ve had recently. I forget that I was having some strange feelings for Colton. I forget about it all and just remember Sander. Sander and me—us. The clouds are moving away from my shining star. This is where I’m meant to be.
His fingers move to the bottom of my shirt, and his fingers trail along my stomach until he grabs my shirt and lifts it over my head. I take his shirt off eagerly and start planting kisses across his taut chest. His muscles twitch under my lips, and I smile against his chest, loving the way I affect him.
Sander has always had a nice body. He works out more than most people our age. It goes with being the son of two of the best looking people back home. He has to look good. And he does. His shoulders are large and intimidating. I run my fingers up his arms and to those very shoulders. Chills break out across his skin, starting at his shoulders and stretching down to his wrists. His slight scruff on his stomach stands on end as the chills move down his chest into his stomach and lower. His hands move to my back, and he unclips my bra easily. We’re so accustomed to one another now that every move is known. I know that he’s going to pull off my bra and then kiss the top swell of my breast. He knows I’m going to rub the outside of his jeans and then unbutton them. He knows as soon as his tongue flicks across my nipple—I’m a done deal.
And that’s what happens. My bra is quickly discarded. His lips trail down my shoulders to my breast. My hand moves to his crotch and rubs against his erection, and I unbutton his jeans. His lips move lower. I feel his breath against my nipple. I throw my head back with ecstasy and moan when his tongue finally flicks across my peak. I rush and unzip his jeans, pulling his boxers down with his pants. My hand finds his erection. I grab it and squeeze. He lets out a breathy sigh and reaches down to my shorts. He hooks his thumb in the top and pulls them down, leaving me in my lacy blue panties.
He pushes me down onto my bed and hovers over me, his arms on the sides of my head holding him up. He looks at me for a moment and then kisses me hard. I kiss him back just as eagerly. We need this. God, do we need this. His right hand moves down my body, causing chills to erupt over my skin wherever his hand touches. He reaches my panties and goes further until he reaches my center. His finger trails along the outside and he moans.
“Are you ready for me,” he mutters against my neck. He rubs harder now and kisses my neck.
“Ah...” I sigh and lift my hips to meet his hand. He moves my panties to the side and dips his fingers into my warm folds. I moan louder. “Please, Sander,” I beg. He’s teasing me. I can’t handle teasing right now. All I want is to feel him inside of me.
“What’s wrong baby?” he teasingly asks and runs his finger across my clitoris.
“Please!” I beg.
I feel his smile against my neck. “Enough teasing?” he asks. I nod my head. He sits up and pulls my panties down my legs and tosses them. He looks down at me and runs his finger against me again. I sigh and move my hand to his cock and guide it to my opening.
“Do you have a condom?” I ask breathlessly.
“We don’t need one. You’ve been on the pill for over a month now,” he says and starts pushing into me.
“Wait. Sander wait.” He stills, “I just want to be careful for the first couple of months, okay?”
His eyes narrow, “It’s fine, Lilly. What’s the point of you being on the pill if I still have to wear a damn condom?”
Before I can argue any more he pushes himself into me. Hard.
“Argh!” I yell. I wasn’t ready for him yet. I still wanted to talk about that whole condom thing.
“That’s right baby, take me all in,” he says and lifts my hips as he sits back and thrusts his hips forward.
“Pull out before you come,” I say between clenched teeth. I’m trying to not be upset with him, but I was trying to tell him no and he wouldn’t listen.
“Fine,” he says crossly but moves over me so he can have more leverage. He starts fucking me. He’s not gentle now. He’s mad. But to be honest I’m mad too, so I welcome the angry fucking. I meet every thrust of his hips with my own. I feel my pleasure start to build and build inside of me.
Sander is getting there too. He’s picking up speed and thrusting harder into me. His arms start to quiver around me. “Pull out, Sander!” I yell.
For a second I think he isn’t going to listen to me and it freaks me out. Suddenly my pleasure is gone, and I’m left frustrated. The last second before he comes, he pulls out of me and finishes all over my stomach.
“Seriously?” I mumble. I’m irritated and quite frankly grossed out, “Why did you do that?” I say referring to fucking without a condom as well as letting himself come all over me.
“Next time I’m not pulling out,” he says it while narrowing his eyes.
I raise my eyebrows at him, “Then next time you better wear a fucking condom.”
He rolls his eyes, “It’s fine, Lilly. Tons of chicks are on birth control and don’t get pregnant. That’s why they are on it. So they don’t have to use condoms anymore.”
I push him off of me and grab a towel from the chair next to my bed. I wipe the sticky shit off of me as best as I can and then slip my shorts back on, “It doesn’t matter, Sander! I asked you not to! Why couldn’t you just listen?”
“I thought we were done arguing,” he says and pulls on his boxers.
“Yeah, well then stop being an ass,” I argue while looking around for my bra. I find it underneath my bed. I have trouble clipping the back together. Sander comes over and takes place of my hands and hooks my bra. He kisses my shoulder.
“Sorry I upset you, baby girl,” he says and kisses me behind my ear, “I just don’t understand what the big deal is; I want to feel you.”
I sigh, and with it goes some of my frustration. “Can you just try and listen to me?” I turn to face him. “I feel like you don’t care about anything I’m thinking or feeling.”
He lifts his hand to my cheek and looks into my eyes. I’m momentarily lost in his beautiful brown irises. His touch makes me lose my mind. One minute I’m furious the next minute I’m furious but also putty beneath his touch. He pecks me on my lips. “I care.” Is all he says.
A few hours after we mostly put out the fiery frustrations that we were both feeling, Sander and I head out to dinner and maybe a movie back in his dorm room. Really it just depends on how I’m feeling by the end of this night. Though our earlier activities both pissed me off and relieved me, I still don’t know how I’m feeling. It’s getting harder to hide that my feelings for Sander seem to be changing—he seems to be changing. I love him. He’s my Sander. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved and the only man I ever want to love. But something seems off, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know if what is going on with him will fix itself or if this is a permanent change in him. If it is permanent, will I get used to it? Will I learn to love these changes? I’m not sure. I know that when he touches me—all second thoughts disappear and I am back to complete happiness with him. It’s when he talks that I want to punch him in the throat.
Okay, I’m being dramatic again. He just seems to be more extreme lately
. His moods are stronger, regardless of what mood he’s feeling. He seems to be more protective, yet at the same time appears to only care about himself. It’s giving me whiplash.
Sander is wearing a nice pair of jeans and green polo. He looks well-put together per usual. His parents really did raise him to always look his best, and he always does. He’s freshly shaven, and his hair is trimmed constantly. He doesn’t have a tattoo or piercing on his body. He doesn’t need it. Yet, I still find myself inching back to a certain someone that has numerous of both—tattoos and piercings.
Sander is taking me out to a nice Italian restaurant. I love Italian food. Sander loves Italian food. It’s one of the things that we really enjoy doing together. Back home we used to find all of the local Italian restaurants and try them out. When we ran out, we had to expand our exploration by 50 miles to find more places. We even enjoy cooking at home. Well, usually it’s me cooking and him talking to me, but he tries. He’s just not very good at cooking.
Smiling, I remember the time Sander had taken our two plates of spaghetti and put both mounds of pasta into one large bowl. He grabbed a piece of spaghetti and put part of between his lips, letting the rest of it hang down his chin. The red sauce dripped down his chin and covered the sides of his lips. I remember laughing at the sight and wondering what in the world he could possibly be doing. Then he pulled me closer and lifted the other side of the noodle to my lips. I sucked it into my mouth; at this point I understood what was going on. We were reenacting a scene from Lady and the Tramp, when they shared their spaghetti. We both started to suck in our sides of the spaghetti until we were kissing. I was giggly the entire time which resulted in an even messier kiss. By the time we were done kissing both of our faces were covered in the meaty tomato sauce. We looked ridiculous. He was completely cheesy, but I loved the cheesy Sander. He did things like that just to make me smile. And it worked. Even now when I think of that night, I can’t stop the smile that breaks across my face.
“What are you thinking about?” Sander asks as we walk to a table at Michelo’s.
I grin up at him, “I was just remembering that one time we made spaghetti, and how we shared our pasta.”
He takes his seat and grabs the menus from our waitress. He hands one to me and orders us both ice water with extra lemon. Another plus to us going out for so long is that he knows what I like to drink.
“I remember that night.” He smiles at me. That smile is my sweet Sander. He has a dimple in his chin that becomes more pronounced with this smile. “It was a good night.”
“It was,” I state and open my menu. “Maybe we should cook together sometimes this week,” I suggest.
“Sounds good. I love your chicken alfredo.” The waitress comes back with our waters and sets them in front of us. I reach over and grab the lemons from the glass cup and squeeze the juice into my water. The juices spray over the cup and land on my arms and on my cheek. I grab my napkin and wipe my cheek off. Sander takes the lemons out of his and hands them to me. I add them to my water as well. The air around us now has a tinge of tangy lemon in it.
I laugh over the noisy restaurant, “Babe, you say that about everything I make. You must be in the mood for alfredo. Don’t order it. Order something else so I can make it for you in a couple days.”
“Deal. I think I’ll have lasagna,” he says licking his lips. I watch his tongue flicks across his lower lip and I automatically want to kiss him. He bounces his eyebrows up and down when he sees me looking at him, playfully demonstrating his excitement for the lasagna.
“I’m having the penne with sun dried tomatoes,” I say to fill in the space.
“So what did you do yesterday?” Sander asks, changing the subject.
I forgot he didn’t know I went out last night. We weren’t talking. In fact, I went out so I didn’t have to deal with him. Well, maybe I wanted to see Colton too, I admit to myself. But I was so angry with Sander at the time that I didn’t even text him to tell him goodnight last night. Which I always do.
“I went and saw a band at some local club.” That’s true enough. I did go see a band, a kickass band with a really hot lead singer. But he doesn’t need to know that.
“Cool, did Lauren go with you?” Sander asks and looks up at me. There’s a look in his eyes—like he’s gauging my reaction. What the hell is that?
“Uhm no. I went with my friend Clarissa. I met her the other night.” I say easily, but still a bit confused by the look on his face.
“What has Lauren been up too?” he wonders.
“You know Lauren. She’s been meeting new people, guys I think, and I see her for a few minutes of the day before she disappears.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, “But she and I have a date tomorrow. Chick flicks and pizza.”
“I don’t really like you going out without me or Lauren,” Sander says and glares down at me.
“Well I don’t really like being ditched, but that doesn’t stop either one of you from doing that. I’m going to make new friends Sander. Might as well get used to it.”
Sander is talking again, but I stop paying attention. My phone is vibrating in my pocket. I reach for it and see a number of unopened text messages.
The first one is from Clarissa.
Clarissa: Do u wanna hang out 2night?
I quickly text her back.
Me: I can’t, I’m out with Sander.
I skip down to the other message. It’s from Colton. I blink fast and look up at Sander. I feel guilty. I haven’t actually done anything wrong, but here I am on a date with my boyfriend and I have butterflies in my stomach from getting a simple text from this guy I met a couple days ago. Sander is glaring at me.
“What?” I ask.
“You weren’t listening to a thing I just said.” He’s tapping his finger against the table in frustration.
I look back down at my phone and click on Colton’s name.
Colton: 2night. Party at my place ☺.
So that’s why Clarissa wants to hang out tonight. The fact that I’d also get to see Colton is sweetening the idea.
“Lilly,” Sander says, clearly frustrated.
“Just a sec, Sander. I have like five text messages,” I say.
Clarissa responds.
Clarissa: Well it won’t be until later 2night. I can come get u around 11.
My lips screw to the side in concentration. I’m pretty sure I won’t be staying at Sander’s tonight. I might actually be able to make this party.
“Sander, are we doing anything tonight?” I ask him. I look up from my phone and take a bite of my penne that arrived while I was texting.
“There’s a party at the frat tonight.” He cuts into his lasagna, “I was going to ask you if you wanted to go?”
I wipe my lips with the napkin. Well let’s see. The last time I went to a frat party with him, he ditched me and we ended up in a massive argument. Not something I want to relive. In fact, that party sucked. Everyone already had their cliques, and I don’t know how to make friends with people that are not interested in meeting me. The more that I think about it, I have no idea how Sander made friends, or Lauren either for that matter.
I take a swig of my water. The penne isn’t very good here. The pasta didn’t get done. “I think I’ll just let you go alone,” I say gently so he doesn’t think I don’t want to spend time with him. I would rather stay home and have some quiet time with Sander, but he doesn’t seem interested in a movie night with me. He wants to go out, which I can understand. We’re in college; we should go out. I would just rather go to a party where I know I’ll have fun.
I know that a good girlfriend would invite her boyfriend to go to this other party. But I don’t want him to go. God, I’m so confused. I enjoy spending alone time with Sander. I like it just being him and me. However, I can’t stand going out when other people are with him. He acts weird in front of other people. He’s just trying to make friends. But, that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable for me. Part of me realizes
that I don’t want him to go with me and Clarissa, because I don’t want him to treat me badly and embarrass me in front of my new friends. The other part of me doesn’t want him to come because I want to be able to spend time with Colton. This is so messed up.
“Why don’t you want to go with me?” he asks.
“This food sucks,” I say quietly so only he can hear me.
He laughs, “Here have some of my lasagna. It’s not bad. He pushes his plate into the center so I can reach it, “So why don’t you want to go?”
“I just didn’t really have a good Thursday,” I say honestly, sticking my fork into his lasagna. I bring the fork to my mouth. It’s steaming with oregano and basil—invading my senses. My mouth waters as I shove the fork into my mouth and then gasp from the sheer heat of the noodles.
“Hot!” I mumble over the pasta and grab my water taking a huge gulp to chill my tongue.
He nods. “Okay. Well maybe this next Thursday you can try it again? Or I can ask Bryan to find a different party for us to go to?”
“I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Sure, Lilly. I just want to make sure we are both meeting new people. I’d prefer us meeting people we both enjoy being around.”
I frown, and look down at my fingers that are twisting and cracking nervously. It makes me depressed to think that Sander is growing a part from me. “I’d like that too, Sander. I don’t want you to leave me,” I say pathetically. But it’s true. In this moment as he cuts a piece off of his lasagna for me, I know that it is my biggest fear, that it’s what has been putting me in a strange and awkward mood recently. I feel like I’m losing him. After four wonderful years the idea of not having him makes me feel like someone has punched me through the chest and straight to my heart. I struggle for breath with the pain from the mere idea of no longer having my Sander.
Sander’s eyes widen as my eyes fill with tears. He gets up from his side of the table and scoots into the bench beside me. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. I feel his lips against my forehead, “What’s wrong, baby girl?”