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“You look just like him!” she gushes.
“Mia.” I offer her my hand and lead her the best I can in a waltz around the moonlit space—and despite my lack of genuine confidence and gracelessness, Hannah swoons and coos like a happy dove as we dance.
Occasionally, I twirl or dip Hannah. Several times, she breaks free of our embrace to do a cute little pirouette or shimmy. But mostly, we dance with our bodies close, like our hearts are beating as one. Granted, I didn’t plan this moment, but I think I’m pulling it off rather well. So much so, the moment feels downright magical—the perfect set-up to finally say the three little words that have been on the tip of my tongue for days now.
“Oh, Henny,” Hannah says, just before the magic words lurch out of my mouth. “I’m so turned on.”
Well, now.
Declarations of love can wait. Clearly, it’s time for some Lala Land lust.
My cock tingling, I guide Hannah to a nearby bench, sit her down, and drop to my knees between her open legs. After looking up into her hungry blue eyes for a long moment, I peel down her undies, letting my fingertips skim her skin the whole way down, and then lift her skirt slowly, skimming her flesh the whole way up. My runway cleared, I begin peppering her inner thighs with soft kisses and nips and swirls of my tongue.
The effect of my efforts on Hannah is clear and instantaneous. In fact, it quickly feels like I’ve cranked the dial on her dimmer switch to high. With a loud moan, she runs her hand through my hair, spreads her thighs wider and tilts her pelvis toward my hungry mouth. Clearly, she’s giving me full access to her every nook and cranny. Goading me on. Nonverbally begging me to devour her.
I slide my fingers inside her while getting to work, and in no time at all, Hannah is throwing her head back and coming hard against my mouth. In a frenzy of desire, I get my pants unzipped and down, my briefs along with them, and guide Hannah off the bench. When she hops into my waiting arms, I take two shuffling steps to the nearby wall, guide her down onto my straining, yearning cock, and proceed to fuck her against the wall like my life depends on it.
My bliss comes fast. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I know I’m fulfilling a fantasy for her. Or if it’s that we’re in a public place, albeit alone in it. Or maybe it’s that her arousal came on so fast and strong. Whatever it is, I’m finding it impossible to hang on.
Thankfully, when my orgasm comes, Hannah digs her fingernails into my shoulders and lets loose with an explosive orgasm of her own—one that twists and warps deliciously against my cock that’s currently lodged balls deep inside her.
“Oh, God,” I murmur, before turning slack against her.
With a deep sigh of contentment, Hannah slides her feet onto the floor and her forehead against my shoulder. “Holy shit. Talk about Peter the Great.”
I take a deep, steadying breath. “That was definitely my favorite kind of hard drive.”
Hannah cackles. “I was highly impressed with the RAM in your hard drive, sir.”
“That’s thanks to you turning my floppy disk so damned hard.”
She gasps. “Did we just invent a new kind of dirty talk? Dirty Talk for Dorks.”
“Cum-puter speak.”
Hannah bursts out laughing again. “You’ve got to trademark that.”
I laugh while pulling up my pants. “I think the trademark application would be a waste of money. Surely, we’re the only two dorks in the world who’d find cum-puter speak sexy.” I slide my hand into my pocket, intending to pull out that little piece of folded paper, but it’s not there.
Shit.
I look around in mild panic and spot it on the floor next to the bench. My last comment is the perfect segue to show her what’s on that piece of paper—to tell her I love her and that I’m positive she’s the only dork in the world for me. But I don’t want to skitter over there like a cockroach to pick up that paper. I want to be smooth about it.
Hannah says, “Ya wanna gaze at the stars with me?”
I glance at the paper on the floor again, as beads of sweat form on my forehead. “Yeah, I suppose we should put the telescopes to good use, as long as we’re here.” As Hannah walks toward a nearby telescope, I quickly snatch the paper from the ground and shove it hastily into my pocket. Phew. That could have been a disaster for me, if Hannah had seen the scrap of paper and thrown it away. Or worse, unfolded it and looked at it.
As Hannah bends down and peers into a telescope, I finger the paper in my pocket and suddenly realize I can’t show it to her yet. Really, I’ve got no business saying “I love you” to Hannah before I’ve been at least half-way honest with her about my life. At the very least, shouldn’t she know the truth about how I got that code at the door before she, hopefully, says “I love you” back to me? Shouldn’t Hannah know the gist of my superpowers? If I don’t come clean before saying “I love you,” then would I really be any different from that asshole, Greg Smith, who said whatever he had to say to gain her trust and take her money?
