Crashing into Her

by Mia Sosa

  He places his right knee on the seat cushion. His left leg is bent at an awkward angle so his foot can touch the floor, but he doesn’t seem to care; if he can handle it, far be it from me to interfere. I push my panties aside, giving him the access he needs. “I’m shaking just thinking about your lips here.”

  He doesn’t say anything. Tunnel vision prevents him from being deterred from his mission. With a low growl, he grabs my ass and lifts my bottom to bring my pussy closer to his mouth. And then he proceeds to tongue my clit with such precision and enthusiasm that I’m repeatedly banging my hand against the seat back as if I’m recreating the steamy window scene in Titanic. “Oh God.”

  The flicks across my nub slow, until he draws it into his mouth and sucks on it gently, sliding two fingers inside me. My wetness stops him. “Fuck. You’re drenched and I love it.” As proof, he inserts his index finger in his mouth and sucks it clean. “Delicious. I will never get tired of this taste.”

  “Oh, God, I want to come so badly. Please Anthony, make me come.” I can’t imagine what I look like, but I know how I feel. I’m tight and achy everywhere, and my clit is pulsing like it has its own heartbeat.

  He returns his mouth to my pussy and laps at it relentlessly. Over and over, and over again. I massage his scalp as he sucks on my nub, and soon I’m circling my hips against his mouth, grinding myself against his face. The familiar tingle starts in my belly and descends to my clit, where it gathers in the center before it fans out in pleasure-soaked waves, my body shaking uncontrollably. “I’m coming, Anthony. Oh God, I’m coming. Yes . . . yes . . . yes . . . yes . . . yes.”

  He doesn’t stop licking, nor does he stop pumping his fingers inside me. And at this point, all I can do is squeeze my eyes shut and let the sensation run through me. Eventually, I manage to raise my lids and regain my breath as he strokes the inside of my thighs with his nose and mouth.

  “See there?” he asks, rising from between my legs. “Better than just a kiss, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I will be unable to form coherent sentences for the remainder of the evening. Ask questions at your own risk.”

  He looks at his watch as he wipes a finger across his bottom lip. “I hate to eat and run, but I need to get home. I promised my father I’d bring the beer.”

  I’m struggling to get my pants back on and doing my best impression of a mess personified. I imagine this is what it would feel like to be a ball of cotton—fuzzy and soft and so delicate someone could pull you apart with little effort. My gaze falls to his crotch. He’s sporting serious evidence of his own arousal. “What about you?”

  “I got as much pleasure from that as you did.” He leans over and kisses me, gently nipping at my bottom lip as our mouths separate. “Plus, I’m a big proponent of delayed gratification.”

  “Then expect to be very gratified the next time we meet.”

  He throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. “Give me a minute. I’m picturing it.” A few seconds later, he sits up, clears his throat, and starts the engine. “Seat belt.”

  I fasten my seat belt, and he shifts the car into Drive.

  The memory of this evening will carry me through until we see each other again. I. Cannot. Wait.

  Tuesday afternoon, Anthony sends me the fourth text he’s sent since I saw him on Sunday. This one, unlike the others—all of which simply stated some variation of “I miss you”—asks a favor.

  Him: They want me to do a few retakes of a combat scene Wednesday. Worried I might be late for class. Any chance you could cover for me? Already cleared it with Tori.

  Me: What would I do?

  Him: Anything self-defense related. Maybe lighten up the mood? Other than that one class with you, it’s always serious.

  Me: Sure, I’ll come up with something.

  Him: Thanks.

  After Advanced Zumba, I remain in the studio, working on a routine for Anthony’s self-defense class. As I noodle through an effective way to teach defensive techniques, I practice tae kwon do forms. Well, the ones I can still remember. In the stance for Form 2, it occurs to me that I enjoyed the class as a teen and in my early twenties because the forms were like dance moves. The repetitive sequence of steps made it easier to remember them, too. Two hours later, I’ve almost perfected a routine that blends self-defense techniques and cardio kickboxing into a powerhouse workout. I’m so excited that I text Anthony about it.

  Me: Came up with a great way to blend self-defense, kickboxing and dance. I’m on fire thinking about teaching your class tomorrow! We’ll see if it works. Fingers crossed for me, okay?

  Him: It’ll be great, no doubt. Let me know how it goes.

  Me: Will do.

  The next day, I arrive at Every Body early and practice the steps until I’m comfortable with them. An hour later, Tori enters the studio while I’m in the middle of a sequence and waits by the door, watching and patiently waiting for me to finish.

  When I’m done, she says, “Hey, you’re here early. Getting prepped for Anthony’s class?”

  “Yeah, I’m trying something different . . . if that’s okay.”

  She nods, drawing her brows together as though the question wasn’t necessary. “I’m all for innovation and experimentation. What I just saw definitely qualifies.”

  I grab a towel and wipe my face. “Did you need to see me about something?”

  She straightens. “Yes. I was just thinking that it would be nice if we could hang out this weekend. Maybe order takeout and binge-watch the first season of One Day at a Time. I could even stay over and bring my jammies with me.”

  How could I turn down a perfect date with my best friend? It’s impossible. “If I could offer one friendly amendment?”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Yes. What?”

  “We add Nailed It to the mix.”

  Tori grabs my hands and shimmies in excitement. “I love that show. Yes, amendment accepted. I’ll be over by eight, okay? And I’ll bring wine.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Good luck today. I hope they enjoy it.” She waves as she walks out the door. A few seconds later, she sticks her head back in. “You know what’s been a constant since you moved here?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “You’re always ecstatic to be here. You know how we’re always talking about being each other’s person? Well, I think Every Body is your place. Just a thought.” She slips away before I can respond.

  She may be right, but I’m still left wondering: Is that enough?

  Chapter Thirty

  Anthony

  Me: How was class?

  Eva: Fantastic! They loved it. One woman said it was like a millennial version of capoeira. Combat hidden in dancing. Told her not to get ahead of herself.