She listened when I needed to talk, too. I felt like she understood me.
And I understood her—I couldn’t rush her.
She hadn’t said as much (surprise, surprise), but I had the feeling she felt more for me than she usually felt for men she dated or men she just slept with. What she’d said tonight sort of confirmed it—in the past, she hadn’t allowed great sex to inspire feelings, and she’d never allowed herself to develop feelings where there was great sex. We had both, but where she was comfortable expressing her sexuality, she was totally uncomfortable expressing her feelings, so she used one to do the other.
I wanted to encourage her to let her feelings show in ways that didn’t involve an orgasm. I didn’t need words necessarily, but this was nice—she was letting me into her personal space after sex, inviting me to stay a little longer with her. I wanted to show her that I liked it, not because it would lead to more sex, but because it made me feel closer to her. I wanted her to like feeling closer to me, and more importantly, to be OK with it.
So I washed her hair (I’d, um, sullied it a bit), soaped her body, and rinsed her off while ignoring my dick, which was not in favor of the no-shower-sex plan. In fact, he was firmly against it and showed his displeasure by twitching agitatedly every few minutes. Once, it hit Jaime on the butt, and I apologized.
She giggled. “Don’t be sorry. It’s funny, I like it.”
“Funny? My dick is funny to you?” Yes, jokes were good. Jokes would distract me.
“I’m sorry, let me try again.” She peeked at it. “You’re right. It’s a very serious cock. Very no-nonsense. Businesslike. Maybe even presidential.”
I pinched her ass. “I thought you were going to say stiff.”
She glanced down again. “Not yet, but getting there.”
“Don’t look. You’ll only encourage it, and I’m trying not to get hard.”
“Why on earth would you do that?”
“Because I’m trying to be a good guy and show you that we can have fun together without having sex.”
“Silly boy,” she whispered, stroking me softly. “I know we can have fun together without having sex. But I happen to love having sex with you.”
My plan to not fuck her was unraveling at an alarming speed—the speed with which my dick was getting hard. I made one last effort. “I know, and I love it too, but I also like just being close to you. Talking to you. Listening to you.” But please put your finger in my ass again. That was fucking amazing.
“Listen to me,” she said, sliding her hand up and down my flesh. “I feel closer to you than I’ve ever felt to any man, ever. I’ve let you in deeper. Revealed more of myself. And my favorite way to share that with you, the only way I’m good at, is with my body. It’s the language I speak. Does that make sense?”
Her words stirred something inside me, and it was enough to overcome my restraint. “Yes,” I said, letting my hands go where they wanted, putting my lips on her warm, wet skin. “Yes.”
She laughed throatily, slinging an arm around my neck. “You’re so fucking easy.”
Twenty-Two
JAIME
So fucking easy.
It would be so fucking easy to just let him slide inside me, hot and hard and wet.
We’d made it onto my bed, ostensibly to get a condom, but neither of us had reached for one. Too impatient to even dry off, our bodies dripped onto my sheets as we lay on our sides and clung to each other, my leg thrown over his hip, his cock trapped between us, our lips locked in a feverish kiss.
But should we?
The one time we’d done it without a condom I’d been able to dismiss as a spontaneous, heat-of-the-moment oopsy, like a crime of passion. I wouldn’t be able to do the same this time if I kept thinking about it—this would clearly be premeditated.
But I wanted it. I wanted it so badly.
I wanted him to have me in a way no one else ever had. I wanted to share myself in a way I never had. I wanted us to experience each other skin to skin, nothing between us. This whole night had been a series of breaking down barriers, from our conversation at dinner to the sexual adventure in the kitchen to inviting him into my shower—and the more I opened myself to him, the further I wanted him to go.
I’d told him things tonight I’d never told anyone, done things to him and let him do things to me I’d been scared to even think about before. And he hadn’t judged me—he never judged me. He was so patient with me, so sweet, so stubborn, so sure that I had the capacity to love someone.
How could I tell him what that meant to me? I wasn’t good at revealing myself with words, but I could show him.
And I would.
“Quinn,” I whispered frantically. “I want you inside me. Fuck the condom.”
“Are you sure?” His eyes searched mine in the dark.
“Yes.” My entire body ached for him to fill it. “I want you so badly right now, I can’t describe it—I want you so badly it hurts.”
“I want you too.” He took over, taking his cock in his hand and guiding it between my legs.
I was so wet he slid in easily, but he went slow, his eyes closing. When he was buried inside me, he opened them, and we held still for a moment, just looking at each other.
My heart was thundering in my chest, and I felt his doing the same. His hand slid over my hip, pulling me tighter to his body, and I hitched my leg up even higher, making the angle even better.