He’s still holding me, his arms around me, mine wound around his neck. And it feels right to lift my face, to meet his mouth with mine, to close the distance between us.
It’s soft at first. Slow. Ahello, again. The kind of kiss you might greet someone with at the beginning of a date. A graze of lips that grows slightly firmer before withdrawing. The start of something, a hint of what’s to come.
But I don’t want teasers of the real thing. I’ve been waiting all night for this, and I don’t want to wait anymore. I want it now.
I arch into him, my hips flush against his, and I relish the gasp he lets out as I feel him through his pants, hard and ready. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, and there’s tension across his face. Something wild, barely restrained as he rocks forward, pressing exactly where I need him, brushing a spot that sends heat rushing through me.
“More,” I say, but when he repeats the movement, the buckle of his belt digs into my skin.
I reach for it, wanting it off. Wanting everything off, but his hand encircles my wrist, holding me still.
“Are you sure? Do you still want—” He swallows, his throat flexing hard. There’s effort written across his face, muscles taut and strained. “I know what we just talked about, it was maybe heavier than expected, and I’d understand if you’d rather not…if you’d rather have a night to yourself. If you’d rather I go.”
I shake my head, undoing his belt and sliding it from the loops. “I don’t want to be alone.” I reach for the button of his pants. “I want this.” I look up at him. His pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. I think I know his answer, but I want to be sure. “Do you?”
“Yes,” he breathes, and I don’t wait a second more.
I pull at his zipper, tracing the length of him through his briefs. I grasp him firmly, and his sharp inhale of breath ricochets around the room.
“Not yet,” he says, pulling away. “You can’t, I’m—” He closes his eyes, squeezing them tight, before opening them again. “I’m already too close. I need a…give me a second.”
His voice holds a trace of apology, but his admission is dizzying. I’m tipsy under the weight of his want, and I want him to know I feel it too. That there’s nothing to apologize for. That we can both give in to this, meet each other where we are.
“I don’t care,” I say, reaching for him. “It doesn’t matter, just—”
His hands come to my waist, his arms locked, holding my body at a distance. He steps forward, moving us together, until the backs of my legs meet the bed again.
“Sit,” he says.
And my mouth drops open. A nonsensical noise escapes me, something that sounds embarrassingly likegah.
Surprise lights his eyes. He looks at me for a moment, processing, and then something new settles over his expression. A confidence that almost borders on smug. He takes off his glasses and folds them carefully before setting them aside.
“Sit down,” he says again, and I feel his words like a touch. A languid sensation that starts in my lower belly, then spreads through my limbs as I slowly lower myself to perch on the edge of the bed.
After a beat, he mirrors the movement, his gaze holding mine as he drops to his knees on the floor.
“What do you like?” he asks, his right hand traveling up the back of my calf. “Being told what to do, is that…is that something you’re into?”
“Not, uhh—” He turns his head, and I gasp at the feel of his mouth, open and wet on the inside of my knee. “Not historically.”
He huffs a breath against my skin, the barest hint of a laugh, as his hand skims up my inner thigh. “Not historically?”
“Yeah,” I say. “But I did like it. Just then.”
“Hmm.” His hand moves higher, his thumb brushing against the fabric of my underwear. “And this?” he asks, finding the center of me, pressing more firmly, his thumb sweeping in slow circles. “Is this something you like?”
I jolt, static electricity sparking at his touch. “Yes, please, I—”
His fingers travel to the elastic band at the top of my underwear. “Can I—”
“Yes, yes, please.”
He lets out another amused breath. “You’re so polite, do you know that? You’re so—” But I don’t find out what else I am, because when the cool air meets my exposed skin, he groans. “So beautiful, god. You’re so—”
His thumb comes back, finding me again, and I arch when he applies pressure the same way he did before.
He’s watching intently, his eyes following the movements of his hand, then flitting back to me, tracking my reaction, trying things out, then changing them until he’s found a rhythm that has me breathless, that has me pushing against him, wanting more.
