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His jaw prickled with stubble that scratched my skin, but it highlighted his tenderness.
Then, there were the ragged sounds of his breathing—they hit my ear drums. Each groan bled with his want. For me.Me. The one-time American cum dump. No one else.
And, there was his taste. Coffee and…jam? Sweet and syrupy, yet earthy too.
My mouth trembled against his and I pulled back with a jolt. His eyes were closed now, too, but he didn’t move. Just carried on breathing my air as I breathed his.
His confidence was new.
Not unwanted or unwarranted.
Just new.
In our chats, he was always careful. Not wanting to push me too far. I hadn’t expectedthis. Not so soon. Yet it felt right. I didn’t want to be pushed, but I needed the reminder that I wasn’t supposed to have ice at the heart of me.
I wasn’t just a soldier.
I was maybe made for love too.
When I remained where I was, he let his head tip forward and our foreheads rested against one another. I didn’t want to move. I wanted to stay here forever. We had people to save, but not even a tornado warning would have made me pull away from him.
He was warm.
He smelled good.
I liked him.
What had made me pull back again?
Confused, I tried to make sense of the nonsensical.
Then, it hit me.
With his eyes closed, it made it easier to answer the question he hadn’t asked: “I haven’t kissed anyone in a long time. Sorry if it sucked,” I whispered. Did that sound apologetic? Sure, I’d said the word, but I wasn’t even certain if I meant it.
Why had I said it again?
Oh, embarrassment.
I probablydidsuck, but he soothed my ridiculous nerves by rocking his forehead to the side, inadvertently massaging mine as he did so. “I’ve wanted to do that for over a year now.”
Relief struck.
“Me too,” I whispered.
And I had.
So why was I nervous again?
Or was I nervous?
What the fuck was even going on with me?
This was Conor.
He’d heard me come over the phone.
We’d talked about anything and everything.
