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My heart goes apeshit inside my chest. “I fucking love that.”
“What?”
“You calling me baby.”
She smiles. A lazy, breathless thing.
This.Woman.
I fuck her and play with her and she comes two beats later. She comes so hard I can feel the reverberation in her ass. She shouts, a throaty, desperate sound that makes my hips jerk in uneven strokes.
She drops her legs. She’s crying. Tears slipping off her eyes down her cheeks.
I wipe them away. Kiss her face. My throat is tight again. I can’t breathe. I’m choking on all the things I want to say to her right now.
I love you.
I’ve loved you for a long time.
I wanna love you for the rest of your life, but I’m scared and I don’t know how to fix that.
Also, I’m not gonna be that guy that tells a woman he loves her for the first time when he’s inside her. How could Jen trust me if I did? Everything’s turned up to a ten when you’re naked together, feelings included. Some of those feelings stay at ten afterward. Others don’t.
Thing is, I’m not sure I’ll have the courage to tell her afterward. I’m not sure it’s right. I adore her. I want her. But so what? I can’t see myself giving her the life she wants. It’s not her job to fix me.
Leaning my forehead against hers, I close my eyes and tell myself I’ll be as good to her as I can. I’ll make this good for her.
She grabs me by the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. I love kissing her. She’s equal parts patient and eager. Ardent and curious.
She’s passionate as hell, and I can’t get enough of it. The softness of her lips. The taste of her mouth. How she likes to work my mouth open with her tongue.
Speaking of tongues, she bites mine. Gently. But it’s still rowdy enough to send a rip of electricity down my spine.
A blinding light.
A painful rush of sensation.
I empty myself inside her. The hot drip of my cum is already leaking down my length as I come, and come, and keep coming, pulses that leave me gasping.
I don’t realize I’m shaking until Jen wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me into her arms.
“It’s all right,” she whispers. “I’m here, baby.”
See?That voice tells me.The good wins.
That freedom she talked about. I realize it’s not freedom from responsibility that turns her on.
It’s the freedom from pretending. And that turns me on too.
twenty-seven
. . .
Jen
First Timers
The week is a blur.
