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"I'm a virgin," I blurt out, and the silence that follows is deafening.
"What?"
I close my eyes, wishing I could just disappear. "I'm a virgin."
"I'm sorry. I heard you, I'm just surprised." He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is thick with lust. "Are you saving yourself for marriage or..."
"No," I say, opening my eyes to see him staring down at me. "It just never happened. It's not for religious or moral reasons or anything."
"Then why?" Nathan is demanding, but not pushy. The walls of the dorm are thin, and while we haven’t exactly been silent so far, making this confession in front of him seems louder than anything else. But at least the worst part is over.
“I never wanted to…you know, have sex. I never felt any sort of spark. But now…” I twist my fingers in the soft blanket covering the bed, looking down.
“But now?” he prods, a sense of pride creeping into his tone.
“You make me want it.” I know my face is painfully red and flushed at this point. Oh my God, if he didn’t think I was too young before, he definitely does now. “You make me…feel things. All sorts of things.”
Now Nathan is moving closer again, the back of his knuckles skimming up my arms. “Tell me, Noelle. I want to hear what I make you feel.”
I suck in a shuddering breath, my thoughts spinning out of control. “Um. Well… hot for one. All over.”
I can't believe I'm saying these things, but the look on his face is worth the humiliation.
"What else?"
"When you kiss me, I feel it everywhere. I'm on fire, and I can't breathe. I don't even think I want to breathe. You make me ache, Nathan." I can barely meet his eyes, but when I do, they're blazing.
"Ache where?"
"In my...down there."
He laughs, a deep, rumbling sound, and the vibration of it has me pressing my thighs together. "Say the word, Noelle. Say where I make you ache."
"My pussy, Nathan." The word sounds strange and foreign on my lips, but I love the way it tastes, the way it sounds. "You make me ache in my pussy."
His hand slips between my legs and the thin cotton of my pajama shorts is no match for the rough pads of his fingers.
"Here, baby girl?"
I whimper. "Yes."
"Do you like that?" he asks, pressing gently. "When I call you that?"
"Y-yes."
"Good girl. Now let's take these off, okay?" He tugs at the tie on the front of my leggings, and when I nod, he slips them down my legs.
His fingers stroke up my thigh, and the air leaves my lungs. He's so close to where I need him to touch, but he's taking his time, tracing patterns over my skin. When his fingertips finally brush against the fabric of my panties, I moan loudly, and he silences me with his mouth, kissing me as his fingers dip under the cotton and find the wetness that's gathered there.
"Oh fuck," he groans, his lips leaving mine. "You're soaked, baby girl."
I nod, unable to speak.
"Is this all for me? Because of me?"
"Yes."
His fingers slide between my folds, and I nearly scream.
