She gives a little shrug. “Just a lot of feelings. It’s like my body is one of those crash carts on Gray’s Anatomy. And the doctor just shouted ‘clear!’ but instead of zapping the patient, he just revved up the paddles again.” She sniffles and gives me a watery grin. “I’m an overcharged crash cart.”
This woman. No one else is like her.
The more she shows me, the more I want to see.
“Tell me more about that.”
She blinks in surprise. “The overcharged crash cart of my emotions?”
I nod before releasing her hands and wrapping my arms around her. She tucks in her arms and leans against my chest.
This time when she sighs, it sounds different. Less empty. More full.
She clears her throat. “Well… All of this—” She wriggles in my arms, rubbing our bodies together and sending sparks to every nerve ending. “This—physical—a-arousing touch… It’s new. And good… Really, really good.”
I hum my agreement, another ridiculous understatement. But in the short time I’ve known her, I’ve learned that Hattie doesn’t generally hold back, so if she’s holding something back now, it must be a big deal.
“But?” I nudge.
Her shoulders tense. She inhales deep before her words come out in a rush.
“I didn’t know that things would feel a lot more intense when I was with someone I really liked. That enjoying being with you and feeling safe and free to be myself would be a total fucking turn-on. Like—that’s never happened before.” She hardly pauses for breath. “I mean—I already knew that you asking for consent to kiss me was a total fucking turn-on, so I should’ve had a clue, but, man, I was about ten seconds away from coming when you gave me that condom—” Her arms gesture between us like she’s turning a crank, her voice wobbling again. “And that current of sexual energy and all of these liking-you feelings have to go somewhere, so if I c-can’t come, I’m gonna have to—to cry right n-n?—”
“H-hold on, sweetheart. Hold on,” I stammer, gripping her upper arms and willing my body to calm the hell down while my brain wraps itself around what she’s telling me.
Which is the following:
Hattie, this beautiful, singular, wonder of a woman who feels so deeply, feels safe and free around me.
She likes me—maybe more than she’s ever liked any other guy.
She was on the verge of orgasm just seconds ago.
I need to make her come right the hell now.
“You want to come, honey?” I hardly recognize the raw hunger in my voice.
I feel the shiver that runs through her, and she drops her forehead to my chest. “Yeah,” she says wetly. “But I understand why we can’t do it. Here. Now.”
I can’t help the chuckle that pours out of me like melted butter.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t make you come, darlin’.”
I feel the moment her whole body softens. “Beck—” Her hands clutch my shirt, and before she can sink to the concrete floor, I sweep her into a cradle hold.
“What—”
“I want you in my lap.”
Truly, I want her in my bed, but since that isn’t happening right now, I’ll have her in my lap so she can fall apart on top of me.
Sweet potato crates may not make good furniture, but they’re strong. More than strong enough to take our weight. And even though I feel splinters through my jeans when I slide us atop one of the crates against the wall, all that matters is Hattie’s body on mine.
I lean back against the wall and stretch out my legs, spreading them just enough for Hattie’s delicious ass to nestle between them.
“Lean back,” I coax, and she shifts in my arms, pressing her back to my chest, allowing my body to serve as her throne.
My arms wrap around her middle and my breath leaves me in a long, satisfied sigh. I could get used to this.
