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I cringe at his question.
“I have time,” I say with a slightly bitter laugh.
Even if my loan is not going to pay itself off.
“You are going to be 21, it’s time to find what you want to do.”
I throw a glance towards my boyfriend, before returning my attention to the table full of Vietnamese takeout. I run a wearyhand through my hair, fiddling with my ponytail as I do every time a conversation makes me uncomfortable. I hate it when someone gives me a hard time on my lack of career choice. As if I don’t know that at 21 it’s I’m expected to have these things figured out.
“It’s all about knowing the doors that your studies open to you. In international trade, you have a multitude of things. My father knows great business leaders, if you want, I can talk to him about it.”
“Okay.”
I stop myself from rolling my eyes, annoyed to hear him talking about his father for more than ten minutes. Not everyone is lucky enough to have parents with a network as long as their arm.
“I can make you a list if you want. I know that the online business isn’t doing too badly.”
“Didn’t you want to watch a movie?” I ask smiling.
He doesn’t seem to take offense at my abrupt change of conversation and adds with joy, “Yes, of course. I downloaded several things. I didn’t know what you liked.”
Delighted with this change of direction, I watch him get up, tidy up the table, then open his computer to show me what he’s chosen.
“Which one do you want?”
“Anything” I confess. “I like everything. The horror movie looks fun.”
“The good thing about horror movies is that if you’re scared you can always hide on my shoulder.”
He winks at me and I just chuckle, trying not to tell him that I’m not a fragile little thing. I used to watch stuff like that with the guys when we were younger. We often had movie nights in the basement of the house, where we watched the highest-rated and scariest films. It’s been a while since we stopped thisritual. We grew up, started doing other stuff and the PlayStation monopolized them a good part of the weekends when they came home. That said, now that we officially all live together, I could revive the idea. That could be cool. It would force Nolannot tosleep over at Harriet’s, but the idea of him spending time with her rather than us makes me awfully jealous.
Bad idea, no horror movies in the apartment.
“Do you want to go to my room? It’ll probably be more comfortable than the couch.”
Corey sits up, holding his computer against his chest, and invites me to follow him. When we arrive in his room, I take a quick look around, admiring the few photos hanging above his desk and the books on his bookshelves. Tons of political books.
I go put on my pajamas in the bathroom in the hallway and join him under the duvet. My heart is pounding in my chest and my breathing is slightly erratic, because I know we’re notjustgoing to watch a movie, and part of me is just waiting for that. To get closer to him. When my legs finally slip under his sheets, a special sensation makes my muscles vibrate. Impatience. Excitement. A little apprehension too, because I want it to be good. Think only of him and no one else. Corey’s hard body settles in beside me. Leaning against his pillows, he pulls me closer to him and settles the computer on his lap. We haven’t been watching the movie more than ten minutes when one of his arms slips around my hips. My skin shivers and I look up in his direction.
“Do you want it?” he whispers bringing his face closer to mine.
His warm breath becomes more erratic as he brings his lips closer to mine, and I move the last few inches between us to press my mouth against his. His taste hasn’t changed, nor has the sweetness of his kiss. He positions himself to the side, grabbing my thigh to pass it over his waist. The fabric of hisjoggers caresses my bare legs, and he moves his fingers up to my buttocks which he kneads. I immediately feel his erection bump between my legs and an intense heat is released, making my clitoris pulsate as he begins to move his hips to rub against me. His tongue slips into my mouth, playing with mine for a moment.
All my senses awaken, yet frustration overtakes me. I feel desired, but nothing makes my chest explode. I feel like I’m just responding to a raw desire, not quenching my thirst. I let him guide me, shifting slightly to sit on top of him. He stands up, pressing his chest against my chest, his lips still glued to mine. I move my hips as I slide on top of him to accentuate the contact. Trying to crank up my pleasure, take what I want, make me feel more. Without success.
He runs his fingers under my T-shirt and a sharp image of a dark stare sends a cloud of tingles through my stomach. I tense up as Corey grabs one of my breasts.
“Am I going too fast?”
I shake my head, taking his hand in mine to invite him to continue, forcing myself to push away the fantasy that is creeping into my mind.
“Don’t stop.”
I move more, lulled by the movements of his hands that give me the rhythm. I rub myself vehemently on his erection, kissing his neck, caressing his back, then pulling his T-shirt over his head. His torso is firm, muscular, but far from the build of an athlete.
I place my hands on his pecs, pushing back a memory in the depths of my mind. The one with a body carved in granite, tanned, which smells of the sun, vanilla, and on which I drooled during all my middle school years.
“I want you,” I blurted out. “Take me.”
