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Terrified, I ran.
I knew he was in my apartment. Don't ask me how I knew because, despite his tendency to be loud in the apartment next door, he had the silent movements of a cat. But I knew. So when my bed depressed and his body curled around mine, I wasn't surprised. I should have fought it. I should have told him to get lost, to leave me alone, to never bother me again. But I didn't. Because it felt right; it felt right to have his arms around me, helping me hold myself together; it felt right to have his body cradling mine; it felt right to have his steady heartbeat behind me while mine was breaking.
It felt like it would never end, the crying, the sinking feeling. But the tears stopped and I sniffed and wiped the evidence away, turning in his arms without even thinking about it. His hand moved up to stroke my hair behind my ear, a small, sweet gesture that felt way too nice. I wanted more; I needed more of that feeling.
"Make me feel better, Johnnie," I whispered, my hand going behind his neck and pulling him to me.
There was a brief hesitation before his lips found mine. There was none of the teasing exploration of the last time, the soft sweetness of a first kiss. This felt primal and desperate, like he wanted to devour me and that was fine, because I wanted to be devoured. His lips bruised into mine and I responded in kind, my tongue pressing forward to stroke over his, the rub of his tongue ring drawing an almost pained moan from me. Johnnie pushed forward, pressing me onto my back and resting half over me, his weight balanced on one arm as the other stroked softly down the side of my neck, over the top of my chest, then finally, closing over my breast. My back arched up into his touch, my nipple hardening at contact, constricting to the point of pain. His thumb moved over the hardened bud.
His lips left mine to kiss down my jaw, then my neck, finding a sensitive spot just beneath my ear and tracing his tongue there until my whole body shuddered. His mouth moved down the column of my neck, over the exposed skin of my upper chest, then closing over my hard nipple through the material of my dress, sucking it in and lavishing over it with his tongue. It was a shocking, new sensation that threatened to overwhelm me. My hand moved to his hair, holding him in place as his free hand moved softly up and down my side from breast to thigh and back again.
"Johnnie..." I heard myself whimper, not sure what I was saying or asking, but hoping he would know.
His head tilted upward, his eyes searching mine for a moment. "You want more, darlin'?"
Did I want more? Was there a woman in her right mind who would say no to him? Even women like me... women who had no freaking idea what was in store for them... women who had never done anything more than a little over-the-clothes touching before they freaked out and pushed the guys away.
Yep. That was me. Twenty-six and a virgin.
But did I want more?
"Yes."
His head dipped again, taking my other nipple into his mouth as his free hand moved to my thigh and stayed, inching the hem of my skirt up so slowly that each exposed inch felt tingly. His mouth released my nipple and his head raised again to watch me as his finger traced the line of my panties just above my thigh- over and over, his fingers brushing the soft skin of my upper thighs in the process. My legs fell open to his touch and his hand moved upward, stroking across my belly before toying with the band of my panties. "More?" he asked and, too turned on to make my mind form coherent thoughts, let alone form words, I simply nodded at him.
His fingers dipped under the waistline without hesitation, with a sureness that came from experience, but still so slowly. It felt like an eternity before his finger slowly slid between my slick folds, a growling sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest as my body shuddered. He let out a slow, shaky breath as his finger traced upward and found my clit, working over it in light circles. My hand flew out, grabbing his arm and squeezing. He gave me a small smile before ducking his head and taking my lips again, swallowing my moans as his hand drove me upward, my entire body going tight.
I'd touched myself before. I had given myself orgasms before. But this was different; this was infinitely better. Somehow more intimate, more consuming. I felt like my body was poised to explode and all I wanted was for Johnnie to flip the switch and make it happen.
Then his hand pulled away and I made a crying sound against his lips, making him pull backward. "Not yet," he said softly, his hand moving out of my panties but only because he started pulling them down. I lifted my hips and felt the material move downward, Johnnie's body lifting from mine to sit back on his heels and free my feet from my underwear. He looked down at me for a long minute. My thighs snapped together, insecure, and his hands started stroking up and down my calves. They got up to my knees and held there, squeezing, then pushing them open as he slowly lowered himself down in the space between. His head turned and he kissed gently up my inner thigh, his arms wrapped around both legs, holding them pinned open on the mattress.
My sex clenched hard as his hair tickled the crease where my hip met my thigh. His head shifted and I felt the tip of his tongue slide up my slit, drawing a whimper out of me, my hand moving down to hold the back of his neck. His tongue found my clit and stroked over it a few times before I felt it retreat slightly before the round bead of his tongue piercing slid across it, making my body jolt at the unfamiliar sensation. His eyes opened, tilting up to look at me as he continued the strange, new, utterly intoxicating exploration, making my thighs start to shake. His warm breath huffed out as his tongue replaced the piercing, leaving me to try to figure out which I liked more. Which ended up being impossible to decide. As if sensing this, Johnnie switched it every few strokes until my entire body was writhing, my hands digging into his neck and arm, my moans coming out loud and constant.
