I wanted it all. Every part of him.
Stubble scratched my cheek, my lips moving down to his neck. The scent of him there was stronger, warmer. I kissed and licked and did what I liked. Bit him just because I could. John swore in a voice about a billion times deeper than normal, running his hands up the back of my thighs. My face pressed against his neck, I could have hidden there forever. Strong fingers grabbed at my ass, pressing my body against him.
“Edie,” he whispered.
“Mm?”
“Whatever you want.”
“I want your shirt off,” I said, panting just a little, hands tugging at the offending item.
He sat up, forcing me to do likewise, and then he tore the shirt off over his head. The expression in his eyes, the absolute focus. God, everything about him. All of that golden skin, mine to explore. I pressed the palm of my hand over his heart, feeling it beating fast. Inside of him seemed every bit as stirred up as inside of me.
“Lay down beside me?” he asked.
I nodded, and his hand guided my leg over him, my body back down onto the mattress. Raised up on one elbow, he stared down at me. Fingers traced patterns up my arm, around my shoulder, and over my collarbone. We kissed like we’d never be parted. Life and death, time itself, none of it mattered. Tonight would be endless and nothing beyond the bed existed.
His hand cupped one of my breasts, taking the weight of it, his eyes huge. It was impressive, the string of truly filthy words spilling from his lips. Basically, I guess he liked my tits. And I liked him liking that part of me. God, I liked it so much.
Lightly, the back of his hand trailed down my chest, over my breast, then farther still. Not stopping until he reached the hem of my dress, sitting high on my thighs. My thunderous, bulky thighs. My bulging belly. Embarrassment over body parts still sadly endured. How horribly crappy. I broke the kiss, breathing heavy, my hands tangled in his hair.
“You okay?” His whole body stilled. “Want me to stop?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?” The hand that had been sitting high on my hip, under my dress but above my underwear, moved to cup my cheek. “Hey.”
A mass of doubt and negativity raged in my head, chasing away the happy. No, absolutely not. Not here, not now, not ever.
“Don’t stop.” I grabbed his hand, putting it back on my hip. “My brain is just being stupid. Ignore it.”
Brows knitted, he remained on pause. “Stupid about what? Talk to me.”
Oh God, the embarrassment. I covered my face with my hands, unable to look him in the eye. I was the worst. Trust me to kill the mood. “You’re just doing this out of pity.”
“No. I’m not.”
Maybe I should just crawl under the bed or disappear into the closet. Wait for him to go to sleep, then hightail it home. If I asked nicely, kept bringing him sandwiches for a while, we might even be able to pretend this never happened.
“Edie?”
I didn’t respond.
Oddly enough, there came the sound of a zipper being undone. Next, John grasped one of my hands, pressing it first to his mouth, then to his cheek. “Look at me.”
I sighed, but did so.
“You’re hot and soft. And you felt fucking amazing beneath me.”
“You’re kind.”
“Not even a little.” He pressed my hand to his heart, still beating double time. “Feel that?”
I nodded.
Then he led my hand down into his jeans, pressing my palm against the hardness beneath his underwear. “Now you feel that? That’s what we call a penis. You saw one earlier in the book, remember?”
Stunned, I said nothing. Of course I knew he had one and it would be involved in tonight’s activities. Though I don’t think I’d fully comprehended touching, feeling him. Even over the cover of his underwear. Attribute it to a lack of opportunities to fondle boys. I’d never gotten much beyond kissing and occasionally having a boob groped. Now here I had a penis almost in my hand.
“To be fair, I hear they get hard on some pretty flimsy pretexts,” I said.
“I’m eighteen, Edie, not twelve.” Once, twice, he kissed my lips. “I’m not closing my eyes and imagining someone else. That’s not what’s happening. I’m here with you. I want you, understood?”
My throat tightened, my eyes sore.
“Because you putting yourself down isn’t okay,” he said, gaze open, sincere, and a bit angry.
“Fine.” I sniffed, getting control of myself. So high maintenance, it was a wonder he didn’t kick me out of bed. Slowly, carefully, I gave in to curiosity, wrapping my fingers around him. “It’s not tiny.”
A hint of a smile curled his lips. “It’s not useless, either.”
A grunt and his hips pressed into my hold. His mouth covered mine once more and then my hand got firmly but gently relocated back to his chest.
“Later,” he mumbled.
Talented fingers followed the waistband of my boy shorts, teasing sensitive skin. Back and forth, he gently trailed his knuckles over the front of my underwear, from my navel to between my legs. Low in my belly tightened, the blood rushing through my veins.
When he finally slipped his hand into my underwear, I wanted him to feel me there, needed him to. Even the most delicate of touches made me shake. My bare legs shifted restlessly against the mattress, every muscle in me drawing tighter and tighter. John knew things, magical things. And while yes, I could have done this myself, having him with me made it so much better.
No time to be self-conscious or nervous. The sensation coursed through me, thrilling and complete. Sparkles and stardust and the best rush of endorphins. My whole body seized, fingers sinking into his back, mouth gasping for air. It took a while for me to come back down.
A finger sat hooked in the front of my waistband, questioning.
“We could stop here,” he panted.
“Don’t you dare.”
“Thank God.”
In a moment, my underwear went flying into a corner of the room. Together we got my dress up and off, over my head. His hot mouth covered my chest in kisses, fingers fighting with the back of my bra. Meanwhile, I attempted pushing down his jeans. We were an overeager catastrophe, a mess of mouths and limbs. God, it felt good.
I passed him one of the condoms off the nightstand. Determined though quietly freaking out. He got rid of his underwear and put on the protection. Face sober as he climbed on top of me, covering my body with the hot length of his.
“You’re definitely sure?” he asked.
“John! Please, would you just fu—”
His mouth fell on mine, hand sliding over my side before reaching between us. Slowly, he pressed forward. Strange, to be so impossibly physically close to someone. Over and over, he broke the kiss to check on me, always returning to my lips. I closed my eyes and hung on tight, trying to be relaxed.
It hurt. Natural though it might be, my muscles tensed just the same, resisting the intrusion. From nerves or the slight edge of pain, I don’t know. Then he was inside, burying himself deep, his body rocking against mine. One strong hand held my thigh, keeping my leg up and around him. Warm breath heated the side of my face, my neck. I stroked his back, slick with sweat, trying to memorize everything about him being so close. I held onto him and waited.
After a while, his movements grew jagged, faster. Body tense, he groaned, holding me hard against him. Puffing out breaths, he slumped on top of me, only taking some of his weight on his arms.
I’d done it. I’d had sex. How amazingly bizarre.
“You okay?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“Yes.”
Carefully, he withdrew, falling onto the mattress beside me. Then he looked down at himself. “Shit.”
“What?”
He grimaced. “Blood.”
Crap. Things between my thighs were a bit of a mess. “Oh, um, excuse me.”
I got off the bed and rounded up my bra, dress, and underwear. After cracking the bedroom door and listening for any signs of life from the rest of the house, I broke land speed records racing into the bathroom across the hall.
The girl in the mirror didn’t look any different. Mussed hair, pink cheeks, and swollen lips. Nothing permanent, however, seemed to have changed on the outside. Inside, things felt a little tender. I cleaned myself up and dressed. Then searched for a face towel to wet and take to John.