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“You are. You always will be. I’m used to my boyfriend requiring AA batteries, okay?” she laughed, “it’ll take some getting used to, having you around.”
“Then let’s get started,” I said, reaching for her hips, ready to guide her onto my throbbing erection.
“Not yet. I said I was going to make you scream my name, and you haven’t yet.”
The competitive spark in her eyes was glorious. I sat up, meeting her halfway. I couldn’t lie on my back and watch and not participate. My need for her was too great. I took her breasts in my hands, my palms overflowing with her soft, hot flesh. I traced the sensitive line of skin beneath her breasts and felt her delicious shiver. I kissed her neck as she wound her legs around my hips. We wrapped our arms around each other. It felt natural, to bring our bodies as close as possible, Sarah Jo in my lap, her breasts against eh hard wall of my chest, her soft thighs straddling me. I kept kissing her lips. I couldn’t resist them, their ripe willingness, the way her tongue tangled with mine. It was the most addictive thing I’d ever known.
I remembered the first time I kissed her that way, when we were teenagers. We’d been up in the treehouse at her parents’ one afternoon. She was up there sketching plants for her garden row labels. I climbed the ladder and peeked over the platform, finding her there. She had looked up and smiled, told me to come on up, nobody was around. She was sitting cross-legged on the wood floor of the old tree house, sunlight slipping between the crooked boards of the walls and roof. She’d said Ryan wasn’t around. I told her I wasn’t looking for him. Her cheeks had turned pink, realizing I was looking for her instead. She showed me her drawings a little shyly. The detail on the leaves just from her pencil sketch was beautiful. I could tell what kind of vegetable it was by the shape of the leaf she’d drawn, a few pencil strokes so sure and correct. I had told her they were good because I was a teenage boy who couldn’t say things like ‘fabulous’ or ‘incredible’ comfortably. I had tugged her ponytail playfully and met her eyes. She had put her notepad aside, like she knew this was serious and didn’t want it to get messed up.
I had taken her hands in mine, “I really like you, Sarah Jo. I know Ryan would kill me, but I don’t care. I just had to tell you.”
Then her shyness had melted away, and she’d met my eyes boldly, “I’ve liked you that way forever. So go ahead and kiss me.”
I had loved that about her instantly, her willingness to say what she meant and what she wanted, the confidence. I had touched her cheek, probably too tentatively, but I had been barely able to swallow with the want I felt for her that afternoon. I’d locked lips with her, and her lips were so soft, so right as they clung to mine. I rose up on my knees and gathered her in my arms on impulse. I parted her lips and kissed her deeply, my tongue sliding into her mouth. She gasped, and I felt that gasp all through my body. I stroked her tongue with mine, and it was like it awakened her. Her hands had gone into my hair, and her tongue slid along mine, exploring, wanting more just like I did. The intensity and excitement of discovering each other had been overwhelming.
This felt the same way. Holding an older, wiser Sarah Jo in my lap on my bed, not a rough, splintery tree house floor. The shock and thrill of her tongue on mine was exactly as giddy and strange and amazing. So I told her, “Remember when I kissed you in the treehouse?”
“Yeah. I was drawing. It was hot that day, and I couldn’t believe you came just to see me. It was my first real, grownup kiss. With tongue,” she said.
“It was the first kiss that ever mattered to me. I swear from that minute, you were mine. No matter who else came after, no matter how long. You’d come back to me. And you did.”
“It wasn’t just that kiss, you know.”
“Let me believe what I want,” I said recklessly and kissed her again.
I gripped her hips and guided her down onto my erection. She took my whole length at once on a soft cry, her arms tightening around my neck. She felt so good, so slick and tight around me. I shuddered with the impact of pleasure, the thrill of penetrating her, of pressing her fully against my chest, kissing her, leaning my forehead against hers as I rocked inside her. Our bodies glossed with sweat, our arms tight around each other as I made love to her. It was so full, so complete, the perfect balance of intimacy and fire. She bore down on me, rocked her hips against me as I bucked against her. She ground into me, finding the friction she needed as I slid my tongue in her mouth. There was nothing else in the world but her mouth, her body wrapped around mine. I breathed her breath. She took me inside her. I ran my hands down her spine, pressed my palm into the small of her back to guide her, to work our rhythm until my whole body was bucking into her, and I was calling her name.
