by R. J. Lewis
He made me feel good, made me see stars explode before my eyes. He let me grip him as he moved against me like soft waves. He gave me room to move my own hips as I needily searched for pleasure, gasping and clawing. And when I got there, he paused as I savoured the feeling, swallowing my moans with a rough kiss. Then he did what he had done before. He slid off me, sat on the edge of the bed, and waited for me to go.
I caught my breath, hoping he’d say something to me before I left. But he didn’t. I sat up and slid off the bed. I looked at him once over my shoulder, but by then his elbows were on his knees, and that damn hair was covering his face. This was full dismissal. I mean, sure I’d wanted to feel what I did, but I kind of wanted to talk about it afterwards too.
On wobbly Aston-humped-me-to-orgasm legs, I walked past him, and returned quietly to my bedroom. As I lay there, my body cloudy and limp, I turned to the wall and knocked twice on it. I needed reassurance. I needed inside that complex head of his, and I nearly panicked when he didn’t knock back. Nearly felt tears prick my eyes –
Knock. Knock.
I smiled in relief and went to sleep.
*
School finished and the summer wasn’t looking so grim anymore. Not when I was getting my dose of Aston.
We saw each other every night, and he evolved as he touched me, trailing his hand down my body and between my legs. It was a natural evolution. Funny how the body knows what it wants and takes it willingly. No voice murmured inside my head that he was moving too fast. I think it was because of how much I trusted this guy. And anyway, he never removed one article of clothing. It was kind of infuriating. He studied the noises I made, watched me intently as I buckled beneath him and gasped. And always he gave me my own pleasure while reserving his own.
I didn’t understand it, but I saw how tense his body was every time he moved to the edge of that wicked bed. I caught his hands balling into fists, and how rough he raked his hands through his hair. He was suffering. I knew it because I felt how ready he was, and how much it took for him to hold back. The way I felt when I was only halfway to that orgasm, you couldn’t tell me to stop if you put a gun to my head.
“What are we doing?” he whispered once, his voice almost sad.
It was the first time he’d spoken after our…session (God, only I could make it sound so seedy). I was in bed, twirling my hair around my finger when he’d said it. I looked at him in the dark, this large solid being, coiled and tense and filled with frustration.
“Do you want to stop?” I asked him quietly. If he said yes, I’d suffer. But I knew at that point he wouldn’t. He was lost in me. I felt it in the way he kissed me, the way his hands gripped my body with desperate need. I asked mostly because I just needed to hear it. Tickle my ear and squeeze my heart, Aston.
He turned his head to me. “I couldn’t be without you before, and now it’ll kill me. But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted to break me.”
He made it sound like an accusation. I should have been insulted, but I was still depleted after my pleasure. I was mellow and completely okay with criticism. It was a rare moment for me; like watching an animal outside of its habitat. No anger or defensiveness surfaced. I was totally chill. Were koalas like this? I compared myself to a koala anyway.
Delighted in my newfound serenity, I looked at him calmly and replied, “I didn’t know there was anything to break, Aston. You’ve always been so reserved until now. And even now you won’t speak to me about it.”
“Let’s talk about it then,” he said, turning his body to me. “What happens next? I’m moving to the city when summer is over. What happens when I’m there and you’re here? How does it work?”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “You’re part of the family, Aston, it’s not like I won’t see you again. You promised you’d visit.”
“And between visits, what do we do?”
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
He leaned forward, staring at me solemnly as he gritted out, “How the fuck do I get you out of my head, Elise?”
I froze. His eyes were glassy and wide. He looked wretched. It was the first time I’d seen him hurt so much for me, and I didn’t feel any pleasure in it like I thought I would.
“You don’t,” I whispered slowly. “You don’t get me out of your head. That’s the point. We…stick together and we find a way to work it out.”
He searched my eyes. “So, we’re together now.”
“If that’s what you want.” When he didn’t respond, I shifted closer to him and touched his hand. “Is that what you want?”
He squeezed my hand back and nodded. “Yeah, El, it is.”
“Then stop holding back with me. Give me all of you. I can’t wait any more, Aston. I want more with you. This kissing and touching me, it’s great, don’t get me wrong, and I’m like totally down with it anytime of day, but…I want to feel you lose yourself in me too. I feel like you’re my hooker.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. “I’m not your hooker, Elise.”
“Then be with me.”
“You have to be sure about something like that.”
I laughed dryly. “Unlike you, I’ve been waiting eight long years for this shit, Aston, and the last two have been spent in bed, on the other side of this wall, daydreaming about this very thing. I’m cross-eyed with readiness already.”
He sighed, conflicted. “El…I’m different, you know that. I’m…not normal half the time. I don’t know if I can be good at that with you. It’s why I’ve taken it so slow already. I’m…fucking terrified. I don’t want to do it wrong. There’s no…math to it, you know?”
I smiled, stroking his hand lightly. “There’s no numbers to making love, Aston. It comes naturally. If you want, we can watch a couple pornos. I can scream for you and moan obnoxiously loud when you touch me on the arm.”
“El –”
“That was a joke. Let’s just…try. Besides, you’ve learned a lot about me by now, and I have absolutely no complaints.”
“God, you’re weird.”
“We’re both weird.”
He smiled softly, licking his lip as he leaned over to his night table and opened the drawer. He pulled something out and laid it between us. I stared down at it as he looked at me, waiting for my reaction. It took me a moment to understand what I was staring at.
A condom.
I looked straight up at Aston, my eyes wide, my heart picking up. This wasn’t funny anymore.
“When did you buy those?” I asked.
He bit his lip, thoughtfully. “I’ve had them for a while. Since we…started our thing. Just in case.”
I nodded, and nerves ran through me at lightning speed. I hadn’t even thought of protection. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Are you okay? You look like you’re panicking.”
“No,” I replied, shaking my head. “I’m not.”
“We don’t have to do anything, Elise –”
“Aston,” I interrupted sharply.
“What?”
“Just kiss me.”
He moved closer to me, leaned down and brushed his lips to mine. “Elise,” he whispered, desperately, “I love you. I just want you to know that before we keep going.”
The words scorched me. I took an unsteady breath and ran my hands up his hard chest. He didn’t know how long I’d been waiting for that. He didn’t know how…oh, how unbelievably happy those words made me. I would have said it back, but…I was too choked up. He didn’t wait for me either, he dipped his head lower and kissed me again.
It started slow but heated up very quickly. This kiss was different than before. Aston wasn’t holding back as he climbed back on the bed and over me. He ran his hands down the side of my body, slipping them under my shirt. There was urgency in him. His hands were unsteady, his chest pressed against mine. I could feel his heart beating, hard and fast as he brought my shirt over my head and threw it on the floor.
He devoured my mouth, tasting me. I melted against him, meeting his tongue with mine stroke for stroke. He growled at the feeling, tightening his hand in my hair while his other trailed down my body. His palm stopped at my breast, and he stroked it through my tank top and squeezed. I writhed against him, encouraging him to continue, when he broke away from my mouth, panting.
He didn’t stop like I thought he might. He resumed his kisses, pressing his wet lips down my throat. I ran a hand through his hair as he continued moving down my body. I felt him everywhere. I hadn’t worn a bra under my shirt. My breasts were only small, but the way Aston paused and stared at them, lust in his eyes, I felt like the sexiest woman alive.
Charged and hungry, he grabbed my pj bottoms and underwear at the same time and pulled them down hastily. He didn’t spare a moment discarding them, and then he pushed up on his knees and looked down at me. At every freaking inch of me, exposed.
“Do you know how many hours I’ve spent imagining you naked?” he asked, softly. “I used to just stare at you, at the clothes you wore, and in my head I’d undress you. Then I’d put your clothes back on and start all over again.”
My cheeks heated and I smiled timidly at him. “You are so strange, Aston.”
He smiled back at me, dimples and all. “But you like that.”
“I love it.”
He moved back over me and brushed my hair away from my face. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Since I came through this house eight years ago, I have been obsessed with you.”
He could never know how much those words meant to me. He could never know the torture I had gone through all these years, wondering and wishing. This was a dream for me. I must be in a coma. I’d wake up soon, right?
But then he kissed me again, and it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt real and intimate. Nothing this good could be dreamt about. He kissed every inch of me. He savoured me, and when I was squirming for more, he threw his shirt and pants off. I saw him naked for the first time, beautiful and large, I had to suppress the tears from falling out of my eyes. Was it weird I was crying? It totally was, wasn’t it? But I was so freaking happy! This happiness made me want to weep.
He moved back over me, his naked flesh pressed against mine. Yes, this was real, I told myself, savouring the rush that blazed through my body. We were a fireball; two uncertain, nervous bodies coming together for the very first time. Sloppy, new, without practice or rhythm. Vulnerable, excited, mouths stretched with smiles, eyes filled with need.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered against my lips. “Tell me what I can do to keep from hurting you.”
Never leave me.
“Nothing,” I whispered back. “Just do it.”
He took me, slowly and cautiously, his eyes searching my face with a look of worry. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close to me as he rocked into me. I told him not to stop, and he listened, shutting his eyelids at the intense feeling. I waited to be swept up by the same intensity. I shut my eyes and…
Then I felt it.
Pain! Horrible. Agonizing. Pain!
My eyes shot open. What the fuck was this? This wasn’t what I was promised! There was no pleasure. What the fuck?! It felt like a hot poker was ripping me wide open. I tensed, and hissed between my teeth and he paused instantly.
“Are you okay?” he asked, worried. “Fuck, do you want me to pull out?”
Yes, god, yes! “No,” I forced out. “Keep going.”
“I’m doing it wrong, aren’t I?”
“Oh, my God, Aston, just keep going. You’re making this awkward.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize during my first time. You’re ruining it.”
“Fuck.”
This wasn’t how I envisioned this. I groaned and gripped his hair, pulling him down to me. “Just kiss me. Kiss me slowly, Aston.”
He smashed his lips to mine. It helped. I didn’t think of the pain so much with his tongue tangling with mine. In fact, I felt turned on again. Aston had the ability to kiss erotically. It sounded weird saying that, but it was the only way to describe it. He kissed like it mattered, like he had to savour my taste. I felt him growing harder inside of me. How was that possible? None of the girls talked about this part. Why hadn’t I probed them more with their loss of virginity tales?
There was nothing beautiful about the first time. It was all a lie. A terrible fucking myth designed to make girls fear it less. Fuck you, authors; those heroines couldn’t have writhed in pleasure. Fuck you, movies; those actresses shouldn’t have gasped and moaned the way they did. They were all liars.
They were all…
I gasped when he thrust further inside of me. A spark shot through me. I tore away from his mouth and gazed into his eyes. “That felt good,” I whispered.
His eyes widened, a look of triumph present. “Really?”
“Do it again. Move in and out again.”
He did, and whatever pain I’d originally felt ebbed away to a dull ache I could easily ignore. He pushed in, and we both gasped at the same time. Wow, wow, I felt that everywhere. He watched me intently, his lips quirking up at the way I rolled my eyes to the back of my head. He took his time, moving in and out of me deliberately slow to catch my expressions.
And then he moved. Like, really moved. I touched him everywhere I could, and he kissed me, doting on my lips as I moaned inside his mouth.
I felt an intense connection I couldn’t describe. I held him to me hard as we made love, as he moved back and forth, warming me. He made surprising noises, light moans that ran away from his lips. His sounds; they did wild things to me.
He opened his eyes again and moved quicker, his strokes longer and harder, filled with confident need. I writhed beneath him, encouraging him with my kisses not to stop. Oh, god, it really was as good as they said it would be. He was inside of me, outside of me, everywhere around me. It was an overdose of Aston and it quenched my obsession, filling it to the brim. In a single night, he’d consumed my addiction than all the years we’d shared combined.
When we came, we came together, and it was staring into each other’s eyes. In that moment, I signed away my soul and handed it to him. He understood and did the same.
As we lay together afterwards, soaked in our sweat and breathing each other’s air, I remember thinking, I’ve never been so happy.
It would be the last time in a very long time I’d ever be that happy again.
14.
Elise
It’d been a few days since that night, and we’d had sex again before I felt too sore. It was hard getting used to Aston’s…size. He was…well-endowed, to put it mildly. It was like pushing a piano through a golf hole those first couple times. Well, that was a shit example, but it was the only thing that came to mind in my koala head (and yeah, I was still ridiculously chill about everything). He didn’t push for it after I told him, and recent nights were spent talking and then exploring different ways to making each other feel good. I healed, and by day five, I was up and at it again, determined to get more of him.
On a particularly beautiful day, we took our bikes out of the garage and rode down the streets, taking trails through the parks and up winding mountain roads. We got beeped at a thousand times by drivers. Montley was infamous for its road rage and intolerance for bicyclists. For a place that was founded on so much religious drivel, there were an awful lot of mean people.
We parked our bikes along the fence of some dude’s massive house. Aston knocked on his door and asked if we could chain our bikes to it while we walked a popular trail that overlooked the town.
“You gotta pay for that privilege,” the old dude said.
Ugh, he couldn’t be serious. He lived in a gargantuan house, had four cars out front, and he was asking for money?
“Money for what, though?” Aston asked, his voice firm and challenging. “We just want to lock them against your chain link fence.”
“And what if a bear
mauled them and took down my fence?”
“A bear won’t maul them, sir.”
“You can’t promise me that.”
“Aston,” I called out, “it’s fine. We can find somewhere else to hook them up.”
But Aston wasn’t listening to me. Not surprising. This was what men did, right? They got all personal about something small and easily fixable. Then it was all about who had bigger balls, and ew, I didn’t want to be thinking of the old dude’s balls, but a wrinkly looking sack of meat assaulted my mind and I dry heaved. Gross, Elise, what is wrong with you?
Aston had a full blown argument with the old dude. Then money was brought up and I cringed when Aston began pulling out his wallet from his pocket. Oh, God, he was seriously going to pay the man? It was like auction wars after that. They haggled over two bicycles attached to a fence that, now that I looked at it, wasn’t even all the way upright and stable.
Aston returned minutes later, and the old dude looked triumphant and smug as he slid his ten dollars in his pocket and disappeared inside his massive house.
I decided not to give Aston a hard time about it, but my stink eye couldn’t be tamed. He ignored the look and locked our bikes up. Then he took my hand in his and squeezed. It was a shocking moment for me, being held like this outside for the world to see. Well, not the world really, we were very isolated, but it was better than being isolated inside a dark bedroom.
We walked up the road until we saw the sign.
Mount Fern Trail
Difficulty: Intermediate
Time: 2.5 hours
Distance: 11.3 km
Elevation gain: 380metres
I hesitated. I wasn’t an intermediate climber. I wasn’t intermediate at anything, except kissing. Yeah, I’d grown really good at that as of late.
“You ready?” Aston asked me.
“No,” I answered, my eyes wide with fear. “What if we get mauled by bears? That old guy seemed totally convinced.”
“Then all you have to think about is outrunning me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to die.”
*
To make a long story short, I didn’t die, but fuck, the trail had an incline of doom. My legs burned everywhere. I was short of breath, thirsty, and tired beyond belief.