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“Hands above the covers,” we say at the same time.
I “jinx” it first, feeling all of twelve-years-old when I do. She gives me a glassy-eyed smile and we lean against the uncomfortable holes in the headboard, passing the bottle and joking about whose generation was more mature in junior high.
An hour goes by and we’ve slunk down so that our heads are on the pillows and we’re making fun of random people on television. Not in a mean way. We’re just fumbling on the edge of drunkenness and everything has a hysterical tinge to it. We’ve also both shushed each other once or twice when the fits of laughter have gotten loud.
Our lower limbs tangle together and neither of us bothers moving after the second time we accidentally touch. I’m not sure about how Holly feels or if it’s the alcohol talking, but goofing off with her seems right.
She’s laying on her back, snapping the ponytail holder on her wrist to keep herself from dozing off. Her eyes have dipped closed.
“I’m still awake,” she reassures me with her long hair spilling over the pillowcases.
“Sure you are.” My fingers tickle the inside of her thigh to wake her up. The last thing I expect is for Holly to rest that knee against mine.
She turns her head on the pillow. The tip of her tongue peeks out and Holly bites her lower lip as she opens her sleepy eyes.
“I should go,” I say. She’s the mother of my little brother.
I’m not going to lie and say I’ve never thought about fucking Holly, but crossing that line seemed lewd and like something the lecherous kind of man Rex was intent on turning me into would do.
“Yeah, you should,” she replies with absolutely no conviction.
My fingers trail up the skin of her inner thigh. “God, you’re so soft.”
She wiggles closer. I’ve turned to my side and the lace of her thong under those boxers is scratchy compared to the silk of her skin. Neither stays on long. My fingertips find her wet folds as our lips fuse, catching Holly’s whimper as she tightens around them.
Her hands tangle in my hair, and I sneak my other hand up her shirt, pinching her nipple. Her breasts are perfect. Exactly the right size to palm and thrum my thumb against the tight peaks. She’s heaven underneath me, and I’m dying to know what it’s like to be inside her.
Holly’s hand slides down, popping the button on my jeans. The other’s guiding, making sure my mouth won’t quit. Yet, as my lips trail down her neck, we have to part because I’m salivating, waiting to get one of those tits in my mouth to suck on. Thankfully, all the moving we’ve done on the mattress has her baggy top riding up.
Taking her lead, we both whip off our shirts in unison, and finally I’m rewarded with the sight of the petals and vines that decorate the skin of her right breast.
I’m on my knees between Holly’s legs. My pants are half off and my eyes alternate staring at the bright color contrast between her tattooed tit and the spartan side, and the way she’s palming my cock. I swear I could come right now and it would be better than the fantasy fuck I’d given her last week all alone in my shower.
“Condom.” It’s not a question or a demand from Holly. Though I’m aware if one of us can’t produce one, she’ll put the brakes on what’s happening.
There’s no graceful way to get my pants off and the protection out of my wallet. Holly doesn’t seem to care as she sheds the rest of her clothes. It makes me slightly less ashamed that I’d made a pact with myself not to sleep with random women because it played into the image of the man someone else was set on turning me into.
But Holly’s not an indiscriminate fuck like the women you’d hook up with online or bring back to your place after only knowing them a few hours. I’ve thought about this, replaying the little figments my imagination has set in my brain over the past few months. Being with her is a chance I never thought I’d have to take. And, Goddamn, if all she wants is a casual, alcohol-induced screw, I’ll give her a night she won’t forget that replaces everything troubling her.
Her fingers stay close as I roll on the rubber. She’s not bewildered by my touching myself the way I’ve seen women closer to my age get embarrassed as soon as the subject is brought up.
Hell, she’s the one who brought it up and I don’t like that it might mean she’s got more practical experience when it comes to sex. Yet something about the lack of inhibition and going after what she wants in the bedroom makes Holly sexier.
She guides me to her entrance, and I watch our bodies connect. The head of my cock disappears. My shaft, as I push her knees outward. She’s conscious of it too. Her lips part and she calls my name, beckoning me forward. I cover my body with hers, caging her head between my forearms as I steal a long kiss.
With every thrust, Holly fights back a strangled moan. Her nails dig into my backside, urging my ass forward each time my cock retreats from her center. Proving how into this she is. Stunning me with how much pent-up desire she has. In the meantime, we’d never spoken the words.
The weight of my silent frustrations now out in the open is about to kill me. I’m fighting not to let go before she does.
“You’re so tight.” I grab around her thigh, opening her up more. Rocking against the spot that has her closing her eyes and biting her lower lip each time I hit it.
This is the first time I’ve given a rat’s ass about whether talking dirty turns my partner on. Normally, it’s what does it for me, so who gives a shit?
I get a needy whimper in return, followed by that all-too-familiar flutter sending a shockwave into my system as my orgasm follows hers.
Still cocooned inside of her, I trail my tongue down her neck, then move back up to kiss her again.
“I don’t do things like this a lot.” I’m aware by the way her nails lightly tickle my back she’s responding to the last thing I said to her. Holly doesn’t want me believing she’s a prude or a slut.
