by Sara Ney
Back and forth on my abs it goes.
Back.
Forth.
My hand—the hand lodged under Teddy’s torso finally makes its way out, feeling along the cotton of her leggings. Lands on her ass.
Settles there, at least momentarily.
Back, her hand caresses.
And forth.
Until it meanders south, grazing the hemline of my shirt. Drifting back up inside it.
Skin on skin.
Palm against my tight abs.
“We should go to sleep.” I sound so pitifully weak.
“We should.” She agrees. Yawns.
Back.
And forth.
My cock throbs, the hand on her ass giving it a little squeeze. Then another, as the muscles in my thighs contract, because every single nerve ending throughout my entire fucking body is humming, alive and alert. Buzzing.
God I want her to touch it.
Fuck, just for a second, and then I can finish myself off in the bathroom.
Christ, what am I saying? I’m not going to jerk myself off with her in the house, as much as I want to.
If only she’d…
Just a little lower…
Please Teddy, please…
I count to ten—then ten again so my goddamn leg doesn’t start bouncing like a jackrabbit’s, tension-filled and nervous.
Slowly I take my hand, working it up her back. Underneath her shirt. Stroking the warm skin of her spine, fingers grazing her side boob. The tits pressed into my ribcage.
For fuck’s sake, please touch it.
Graze it.
Flick it.
Anything.
Christ, I’ve never wanted anyone to touch my dick so bad. Or suck it, or stroke it, or…
Teddy says nothing when the pads of all five of my fingers brush her tender skin again. Only her sharp inhale of breath gives away the fact that she felt it. She holds that breath, waiting.
One second.
Two.
Four.
Five.
Her hand moves.
Down.
God, what is she doing? What are we doing? This is such a bad idea. I don’t want her to stop.
That’s it, Teddy. Lower. Lower. Oh fuck…
***
TEDDY
“That’s it Teddy, lower…” Kip’s low groan cuts into the dark, his guttural plea sexy and deep, hitting me right in the ovaries as he lays still beside me.
God, his voice. His words.
I doubt he realizes he’s even saying them out loud.
Not Kip—he has too much self-control, and he’s kept me firmly at arm’s length the past few weeks. There is no way he would purposely allow this to happen, unless…
Unless he really wanted me to. Or I was making him crazy, which I doubt, because—look at me. I’m the opposite of the girls who hang out at the rugby house. I’m wholesome and studious and, well, virginal.
The feel of Kip’s hard, warm skin beneath my gliding fingertips is amazing. Warm, hot, and cool—all at the same time.
Him lying here motionless, allowing me to explore—it must be driving him insane; even I know that. I’m playing with fire and we both know it.
We should not be doing this.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m the one with my hand practically down Kip’s pants, running my palm along the happy trail I discovered under the soft fabric of his shirt.
I love those.
I think they’re so sexy and masculine.
He obviously doesn’t shave his junk like a lot of guys these days do. Metrosexuals.
His entire body stiffens when I skim the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, trail a path with my hand, back and forth along the fabric. Teasing as I debate what the hell to do next.
One thing is for sure: I should not be doing this.
The thing is…I’ve never done this before. Not with a guy like this. They were boys, really, and it was mostly just making out and some heavy petting. Got fingered only once, in high school, with a kid named Devon, who was just as awkward as I was. Fumbling around in the dark with all our clothes on—two virgins who stayed that way—the closest I’ve gotten to having sex was him sticking his hand down my pants and shoving two fingers up my—
“Lower. Oh fuck, Teddy…”
My name on his lips.
It spurs me on, and suddenly, all I want to do is touch it. No harm in that, right? He obviously wants me to. Feel it. Maybe grip it, run my hand up and down its hard length (like I’ve seen in the few pornos I’ve snuck peeks at) just to see what it’s like.
To hear what he sounds like when I do.
So I know.
I want to know what the other girls know, what it feels like to turn a guy on. What it feels like to make a dick hard. To make him come. The weight of a dick in my hands.
Yeah, that might sound gross, but I’m twenty-one and I have no clue what it feels like to hold one.
I don’t want to be clueless anymore.
Kip seems to be a willing participant now that his dick is rock solid and my hand has somehow gotten wedged inside his boxers. He shifts his hips on the bed, gives a little thrust upward. Even without seeing them, I know he’s flexing his thick thighs.
Ugh, those thighs make me stupid.
For weeks, I’ve been trying not to notice how they flex when he walks, how track pants and jeans don’t quite fit properly because the muscles there bulge.
His giant, callused hand eases out from its spot under my body—I’ve been lying on it this entire time—and creeps to my ass. Palm splayed, fingers gripping my butt cheeks. Squeeze.
Leisurely, little by little, it makes its way up my back, under my shirt, slow circles along my spine. Up, up. Down under the thin cotton of my leggings, middle finger blazing a hot trail to my crack.
With my head on his chest and his beard flirting with the crown of my head, I finally snake my eager palm all the way inside his pants. It bumps the tip of his penis, its head straining against the layer of underwear, and I trace it with the tip of my finger. Run the pad of it round and round then go lower, feeling my way to the underside.
Trail along the shaft.
Entire palm closing over his…uh, balls.
Kip inhales again. Groans, fingers digging into my round butt cheeks. Breath coming hard and fast above me.
Timidly I stroke him through the material, not quite brave enough to stroke his actual…dick. Or touch it. Or—
I gasp when that thick finger of his that was grazing my rear is now firmly between my crack, easing its way to my pussy, causing my legs to ease apart.
“Get on top,” he rumbles.
“Wha…?”
Swiftly, two arms are pulling me, rolling me, resting me on top, stiff erection cradled between my thighs. Large, masculine hands gripping my hips.
Pushing at my leggings.
“This would feel so much better if you pulled your pants down.”
Wonderful idea.
Fantastic idea.
Two sets of arms and hands fumble to remove my leggings until they’re low enough for me to kick off. Until I’m lying on top of Kip in nothing but a flimsy t-shirt and skimpy thong.
“Let’s take yours off too,” I hear myself say. Desperate to feel every inch of him without actually…feeling every inch of him.
I lift my hips as he shucks his track pants off, marveling at how intimate the whole thing is. We’re not naked, but somehow we might as well be.
This is Kip, the guy who has become my friend in the past few weeks. The guy who has given me dating advice—albeit shitty, but advice nonetheless.
Kip, whose large, hairy body reaches for mine once his pants disappear into the bedroom. I hear them hit the floor somewhere in the distance at the same time his arms pull me down.
Line our bodies up like it’s second nature.
Kip’s hips begin a slow revolution until that dense, throbbing tip of him finds the fold between my legs and settles there.
> “Oh my…fucking…god.” Kip exhales when his hands are back on my body, skimming gently over the globes of my butt. Over the back of my thighs. Up my shirt. Ribcage.
The sides of my breasts. Wanting to cup them but holding back.
“Can I touch them, Teddy? Just for a second?”
I want him to—so bad.
“Please.” His plea is a whisper, a sexy, aching whimper.
“Okay.” Yes, yes…!
“Sit up. Straddle me.”
Kip adjusts himself on the mattress, taking me along with him, rising to a seated position. If we were naked, I’d be fully impaled on his cock.
I experiment, swiveling my hips.
He groans.
Grabs my shirt by the hem and lifts it all the way off.
In the dark, giant man paws find my shoulders, float their way down my biceps, then—
“Jesus, Teddy, your tits,” he moans, palming them both, thumbs circling my stiff nipples. My mouth drops open as my head tips back, his lips and tongue flicking my skin. Mouth latching on and sucking, only coming up for air to say, “These are so perfect. I could suck on these all night.”
“They’re not perfect.” My hands brace on his hard thighs for support as he continues to pull and draw my nipple into his greedy mouth. “You can’t even see w-what they l-look like.”
He lifts his head, beard scratching my chest. “I don’t have to see these tits to know they’re perfect, Teddy.”
My arms go around his neck and I let him devour me, the throbbing between my legs unsatisfied. My lower half rakes back and forth over his dick, pushing and dragging and desperate for the tip to dig itself deeper into my pussy.
Somehow, our mouths fuse. Our first kiss, in the pitch black of his freezing cold bedroom, in the middle of the night—is frantic and hot and wet and dirty.
Tongues and lips and teeth. Beard scraping my face.
“Let me push your underwear to the side.” His raspy tone is desperate. “It’ll feel so good.”
That’s flirting with danger.
“Kip…” I might be protesting, but when his thumb reaches between us to push the barrier of my panties aside, we both sigh with relief. He was so right—it does feel amazing. So amazing, so amazing. Euphoric.
“I wanna be inside you so bad, fucking you.” He pants, mimicking sex, pelvis gyrating, hands working my hips.
“No you don’t. You’re talking crazy.”
“No, Teddy, I want to fuck you—I want to fuck you. I need to fuck you.” He’s repeating himself and sounds half crazed, nothing like I’m used to. He is losing control of the situation and dragging me down with him—except I’m all too eager to follow. I’m on top, dry humping him.
“Stop begging me, Kip.” Before I lose control too.
“Let me eat you out, then, please.”
Eat me out? Oh…
“Let me put my tongue inside your pussy, Teddy. Let me put my beard between your legs.”
That has my attention. My full, undivided attention. My vagina’s too, because it clenches at the thought, getting me hot all over again.
“Um…”
“Come on, baby—please. As long as it takes, just let me taste you.”
“But, won’t your beard get all…” Messy?
“Yes—fuck yeah it will.”
K, well, that’s kind of gross.
Still…
When he lifts me off him and lays me on my back, any protests die on my lips.
Kip’s mammoth body eases down my petite one, shoulders nudging my legs apart.
A large finger draws down the center of my—
“NNNmm…” I gasp when the flick of a scorching tongue meets my clit. Presses firmly down. Mouth sucks. “Oh…god.”
I have no idea what to do with myself right now, what to do with my arms, hands, body. Am I supposed to just lie here and let him…lick me like this? Do I move my hips around?
I feel so selfish letting him do all this work.
It’s dark, so I can’t see his head, but I can feel it—the messy mop top tickling my skin while his beard tickles my inner thighs.
Mustache and lips wreaking havoc on my clit.
My whole bottom half is going to have the equivalent of carpet burn, I just know it—but it’ll be worth it.
I grasp at his shoulders as his elbows push against my knees, holding me open.
“You’re so wet,” he mumbles. “You taste so good—I’m going to be able to smell you for days.”
Uh…thanks?
I try not to think about what I might smell like down there—I mean, I showered today, so that part is taken care of, right? But last night I had a fish sandwich for dinner, and oh god, what am I even saying?
Stop thinking and enjoy it, Teddy! Who knows when the next time is going to be that you’ll have a chance like this. Mariah, Cameron, and Tessa are always bitching about how no one they date wants to go down on them, and here I am, legs spread while Kip goes to town on my…
Downtown.
He’s groaning, and the sounds? Primal, as if we were actually having sex and he wasn’t just performing oral.
Oral.
There is a guy with his head between my legs, and it feels so good it feels so good it feels so—“Uhh…uh…”
I can barely get any coherent words past my lips. Can’t even be bothered to moan, my head thrashing on the pillow, fists clenched in his thick hair. Clenching the blankets. Clenching the pillow beneath my head.
Kip’s tongue flattens, pushing deeper. Rolling. Licking. Sucking. And I swear, my legs quake.
“Come on baby. Come for me,” he croons into the gap between my legs, the hair on his face doing crazy things to the nerves in my body, the soft yet coarse strands driving me nuts.
Jeez, how am I going to know if I’m coming or not? I’ve never done it, how could I possibly kn—
Yes, yes, that, right there!
That spot.
Keep doing that thing, that…that right th-there…
Everything inside me tightens and clenches and pulses and feels like heaven and, “Oh god, Kip, don’t stop, don’t stop whatever that is.”
His voice is incoherent, his face—I imagine—entirely, thoroughly buried in my…in my…in…
When spasms rack the lower half of my body, I try to back away, push his head out, but he holds me down, continuing to suck the life of the orgasm from me.
Holy shit, holy mother of all that is holy.
I’m grateful for the dark, sure my mouth is hanging wide open when my head snaps back, my back arching.
Then, with a few casual licks against my sensitive nub, and a loud kiss to the middle, Kip releases my body.
I sag.
***
“You don’t have to snuggle me now. It’s okay.”
His body wedges behind mine as soon as he crawls back up into bed after washing up, against my lifeless form, enveloping me. Hot, warm. Huge.
Kip’s dick is still hard, pressed into the apex of my thighs, but he hasn’t made any passes to remedy that, instead just letting it literally poke me in the ass.
“Maybe I want to.”
His beard tickles the blades between my shoulders, and I shiver.
“Besides,” he continues, “you’ll freeze otherwise.”
“I’m not cold.” Not after that little show he just put on for me. On me.
“Not yet, but you’re shivering.”
“Kip, that isn’t because I’m cold.”
“Oh.” He laughs into my back, mouth and mustache nuzzling the crook of my shoulder.
What the hell is going on? He’s being all affectionate and sweet and we’re spooning and now I’m confused. How did we get to this place?
I thought he hated shit like this.
I thought he didn’t want anyone getting attached to him, and if that’s the case, doing this with me is a terrible way to keep me at a distance.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the dark, at the wall I’m facing.
<
br /> “Why are you sorry?” His hand moves to stroke my hip.
“This was such a bad idea.”
“No, actually, it was a really good idea.” His heavy arm wraps around my middle, hand cupping my naked breast. Thumb traces my nipple.
“You’re going to regret this in the morning.”
“I promise you, Teddy, I won’t.”
Somehow, I don’t believe him.
“But what if you want to do it all the time now, and it’s my fault you broke your vow of celibacy?”
He pauses before speaking. “I didn’t take a vow of celibacy. I just don’t want to date or screw any catty, greedy bitc—uh, girls. I think my virtue is safe with you.”
“Because I don’t fall into those categories?”
“You definitely don’t fall into those categories.” My hair gets brushed to the side, and my eyes slide closed when his beard lands on my skin as he rests his chin. “My sister thinks so too.”
What? He told his sister about me? “You told your sister about me?”
“I tell my sister everything.”
He told his sister about me?
“What did you tell her?”
Kip yawns. “Just that you’ve been coming over. She’s really protective, so…” His voice trails off, tired.
How am I going to sleep with his hot breath on my back? With his dick in my ass? With his broad chest heating my body like a damn furnace?
I’ve never slept in the same bed with a guy, never had one touch me like this before. The whole thing screams Cozy! Domestic! Coupledom!
Or maybe I’m delirious and have no idea what I’m talking about because I’m naïve and think the best of people and have no clue what I’m doing.
Honestly, I don’t think Kip has any idea what he’s doing, either.
And that makes it easier to fall asleep.
SECOND SATURDAY (Before Game)
“The morning I lose my damn mind and do something stupid, like fall for her…”
Kip
It’s not as awkward in the kitchen with Teddy the next morning as I thought it was going to be.
I got up at the butt crack of dawn, before the sun and Teddy rose, and worked on the damn furnace for two hours. Seven YouTube videos and one service call later, the thing was up and running, warming the house to a blessed sixty-nine degrees.
Teddy is seated on a stool at the kitchen counter, blanket wrapped around her legs, clothes in place—many of them, as a matter of fact: hoodie, T-shirt peeking out of the bottom, and I’m guessing leggings covering those smooth legs.