He paused. “You sure?”
I nodded, stomach and thigh muscles tight, everything low in my belly beyond excited. “Please. John.”
John sat back on his heels, hair hanging in his face. God, he looked beautiful, disheveled and half-naked by moonlight. I don’t know how I got so lucky. He undid the button and zipper on my jeans, then tugged them down a little.
He lowered himself back over me, taking all of his weight on one arm strategically placed beside my head. Hot, damp lips kissed mine, teeth nipping at my bottom lip. Next he brought his free hand to his mouth and sucked on a couple of fingers, getting them wet.
“Going to get you off quickly, because you got to go home. You’re still grounded, remember?”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.” His hand slid into my panties, fingers brushing over my swollen sex, dipping slightly into the wetness. “Edie. Baby, that feels so fucking good.”
The boy had no idea. Tips of his fingers teasing me, skimming over the lips down there. Beyond good and well into great territory. He lifted his hand back to his mouth, licking his thumb, before diving back into my underwear. My body jolted.
“John,” I moaned, stretching my neck, turning my head to the side. Might have just been me, but we seemed to be running low on air. Or maybe my lungs weren’t quite working. My breasts heaved, mouth open wide. Everything in me centered on what he was doing to me, how incredible he was making me feel.
“I know,” he said, voice low and rumbling. “I’ll get you there.”
First he circled my clit with the pad of his thumb, knuckles brushing lightly across all that sensitive flesh. My breasts ached, belly just about turning inside out. All I could do was clutch at him—his shoulders, his arms, whatever I could grab. Hold him tight and keep him with me, now and always.
“There we go.” His lips brushed my earlobe.
The tension inside me built higher and higher, winding me tight and taking me over. One heel dug into the seat, the other pushing against the floor. My whole body pushing into his fingers, needing to get as close as possible.
“Like that?” he asked, the pad of his thumb working me a little harder, faster.
“Yes. Don’t stop,” I said, voice almost gone, lost.
“No. I won’t stop.”
“God,” I gritted out, bucking against his hand, back arching. “John.”
The whole world fell away. There was just me and him and . . . fuck. Every inch of my body floated, stars filling my head. I lay crashed out on the backseat of John’s car, flying. No wonder some people were so into sex. With the right person, it could be amazing. Even just a hand job.
I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me, shoulders high, breathing hard. “Well, this is embarrassing.”
“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just . . .”
“You just?” I asked, heart and lungs slowly returning to normal. The sheen of sweat on me and the fogged-up windows, I could do nothing about.
He frowned at me and I frowned at him. Though my frown no doubt came with a loved-up smile.
He nodded downward. “I’m kind of a mess.”
“Oh. Oh.”
“Hmm.” Moving slowly, carefully, and still with a frown, he sat back on his haunches. “I was watching you and . . . anyway.”
“I think it shows solidarity, commitment to the relationship.” I tried not to grin. But I didn’t try very hard. “Really.”
“You think me coming in my jeans shows solidarity?”
I just shrugged. “I love you.”
“You love . . .” The edge of his mouth curled upward. Suddenly, he shook it off. “We need to get you home before your mom freaks and decides I’m not allowed inside the door or something.”
He started searching around for his T-shirt, finally finding it on the floor. Then he undid his pants and cleaned up. I couldn’t see much, but still. Was it wrong that I found the whole process fascinating? If so, I didn’t want to be right.
I fiddled with my underwear, yanked my jeans back up, and wriggled into a sitting position. Next, I searched for my T-shirt. “I like the backseat of your car.”
“Yeah?” His smile, it slayed me.
“Oh yeah.”
He leaned in for a kiss and I gave it to him. Boy did I give it to him. And then some.
Cold air washed over us when he opened the door, stepping back out into the big, wide world. His nipples puckered since he remained without a tee, understandably. I climbed out too, opening the other door wide so the fogged-up windows would clear faster.
John walked me over to my car, his strong hand rubbing my back.
“Drive carefully,” he said. “I won’t be far behind you.”
“You don’t need to follow me home. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
I shrugged. “Okay. You drive carefully too.”
“I will.” He didn’t move until I was safely buckled into my car. “Edie?”
“Hmm?”
“Me too. On the . . . you know.”
I cocked my head. “You mean the love thing?”
“Yeah. That.”
My boyfriend.
Who knew I loved him and who apparently loved me too.
I smiled the whole way home.
Hang: Emergency. Send help. I think I have actual feelings for Anders.
Me: Wait. You mean beyond your usual mild annoyance?
Hang: YES
Me: OMG
Hang: It’s not my fault. He got in somehow. Like a virus…a really bad one. What do I do?
Me: Maybe these feelings are like a 24-hour head cold or something and they’ll go away.
Hang: No. Don’t think so. He’s more of a plague than a flu.
Hang: We decided to be sexfriends the night of his birthday. But he keeps hanging around and wanting to do things together and to hold my hand all the damn time. He’s even started teaching me how to play basketball. This is all wrong.
Me: Ok. Wow. What do you want to do about it?
Hang: I have the worst feeling I’m going to have to try getting serious with him. Doomed.
Me: He is cute.
Hang: No. Insanity is not cute…well a little maybe.
Me: At least he makes you laugh.
Hang: That’s true. How are you doing?
Me: I told John I loved him.
Hang: Yikes.
Me: I know. But screw it, life is short. Why not tell him?
Hang: Now he definitely knows you’re not avoiding the whole going public thing.
Me: I hope so.
Hang: And who knows, you could get hunted down by that pack of rabid Pekingese out to get you any day now. Then where would you be if you hadn’t told him?
Me: Dying from very small dog bites with regret in my heart.
Hang: Exactly. I think you did the right thing.
Me: Thanks. And I appreciate you taking my doggie doomsday theories seriously.
Hang: No problem. That’s what friends are for, right?
Me: Right. :)
Hang: Mom’s yelling at me to go to bed. Let’s reconvene on these issues tomorrow. Night. Xx
Me: Night. xx
Erika came up to me outside class, Friday afternoon—exactly what I didn’t need spoiling my happy thoughts of the weekend. Saturday night with John was so close and with just a little more work, Mom might give on the nine o’clock curfew. I might wind up cleaning our toilets until the end of the year, but it’d be worth it. Matt’s word regarding John and me spending our study dates actually studying had gone a long way toward her calming down. So had evidence of my grades improving.
Though there had been another box of condoms under my pillow when I went to bed last night. With the way she kept throwing them at me, you’d think she wanted to find him in my bed again.
“We need to talk,” said Erika, standing in my way.
“Going to have to disagree with you there.”
She grabbed my arm, trying to stop me from walking away down the hall. I just gave her hand a look. So tempting to push the bitch back a step, but I’d promised John to take it easy. Still, other students slowed to a halt around us, watching with eager eyes. God save me from drama lovers.
Erika released my arm, but still blocked my path. Obviously nervous, she licked her lips. “John won’t talk to me—”