AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Okay,” he said, sitting up straighter on the sofa. He turned her hand over so that he was holding it but was no longer massaging her. “Let’s back up for a second.”
“You don’t have a kid,” she said, setting her mouth, but the effect was ruined when her lips twitched. David gave her a look.
“I mean, let’s not jump so many steps ahead that we fall over each other.” He was aware again of the small birthmark close to her collarbones. She breathed deeply and he wished he was an artist so that he could sketch the hollow of her neck.
“Right, we’re taking it slow,” she said, drawing out the words as though she was reminding herself of the plan.
He was actually glad she did, because his mind was not thinking slow thoughts. Not by a long shot.
“David?”
“Mm?” He realized he’d been staring at her. Well, more specifically her neck. At this rate she was going to think he was a vampire.
“If that’s what we’re doing, could you slowly kiss me? You know, just to stick to the plan.”
Fifteen
Shoshana did not believe in God. This was a thing she had accepted a long time ago. Officially, the year she had her bat mitzvah, but unofficially, she’d known since she was a toddler that there was no such thing. And that was fine. Had always been fine.
Before now.
Because, if there was no God, then how the fuck did David’s mouth taste like heaven?
Strawberries, she thought, strawberries and brown sugar and homemade whipped cream.
It was those fucking crepes. She was going to cum on her own couch because the man knew how to pleasure a girl’s mouth, and it was almost entirely the fault of those fucking crepes.
Because she knew for damn sure she wouldn’t be this into his kisses if he tasted like steak and pickles.
She groaned and it opened her mouth to him. His tongue explored her mouth and she let him, drawing back as far as she could on the sofa with so many pillows behind her. Her fingers were in his hair, holding him against her mouth, and then something was falling, plopping onto the hardwood floor. She pulled back just enough to see what it was, and he lifted his head, his hand untangling from hers long enough to reach down to the floor, scooping up the kippah and depositing it on the coffee table.
“You warned me you would do that,” he said, his lips back against her skin. She turned into the caress and laughed because she had, at the restaurant.
“Would you believe I forgot you had it on?” she said, her fingers tangling through his curls, guiding his head so that his lips would return to her mouth. But he had other ideas. His teeth scraped the line of her neck and she gasped, then twisted a little so she could look him in the eye, a new thought occurring to her. “Doyouever forget you have it on?’
“Well, that would defeat the purpose of wearing it,” he said, the barest hint of laughter in his voice. His fingers played along the seam of her shirt, dipping just barely beneath it to touch bare skin. “Does it bother you?”
She shook her headno, her hair flying around her on the pillow. She bit her lip for a moment, considering.
“I don’t know why it doesn’t bother me. I think if you were anyone else it might feel--I don’t know, performative? I don’t get that vibe from you,” she said honestly, her brow furrowing as she tried to think about it. It was hard to think about anything that wasn’t his lips and teeth and tongue, andGod, those fingers. Those long, perfectly formed fingers that seemed to know exactly where to touch her and when.
“Why is that?” he said, lifting his head to look at her. His lips were dark in the warm light from the lamp and she wondered what she must look like. If her own lips were that kiss roughened. If she had evidence of his attention in a rash down her neck because she could feel the rasp of his clean-shaven cheek even when his kisses were barely-there temptations.
“It’s… you. Is it weird that I can’t imagine you any other way? It’s not the rabbi thing, it just feels natural for it to be on your head,” she said, reaching behind her to pull away a pillow and drop it on the floor. She settled back into the makeshift nest she created, considering him. She liked the way his hand cupped her jaw, gloried in the feel of his fingers gently stroking down the side of her cheek.
“I don’t sleep with it on,” he pointed out, amusement making his lips quirk. She rolled her eyes, her fingers traveling down his face, then lower still, finding the buttons of his shirt and beginning the work of undoing them. He looked pointedly down at what she was doing and then met her gaze again. His eyes were bright.
“Is this alright?” she asked, not stopping what she was doing, because the idea of stopping was too disappointing, “I want to--but I don’t know what the rules are. For you, I mean.”
“Yes,” he said simply, his lips going back to hers again in a kiss that would have scorched anyone else. Shoshana moaned into his mouth and his fingers went to her side, traveling up her torso to cup her breast through the thin jersey knit top she was wearing. She gasped, arching into his touch, feeling a little like she was presenting herself, but not caring as long as he kept touching her like that. Her fingers were still working on the buttons of his shirt.
She was making progress, though they were annoyingly small, and the material was stiff. Each tantalizing inch of tanned chest felt like its own victory. His hand left her breast and she made a noise of protest in her throat, but he was only finding the hem of her shirt, fingers sliding under it to touch her bare skin. His fingers cupped her again, this time with only the lacy bra between them and she felt her nipple pebbling against his palm. He lifted his head to watch her face and she breathed a ragged sigh, her head falling back against the pillows.
David’s fingers teased along the edge of the bra, at the place where her breast swelled, and then he was dipping them slow, tantalizingly slow, inside the bra cup to find her nipple, to tease it to pebbled hardness. Shoshana’s hands had stilled on his chest, her fingers bunching in the fabric of his shirt. It was hard to focus on anything but what his fingers were doing to her. He shifted on the sofa and one of her legs fell, her foot finding the floor.
It gave him the opening he needed, shifting awkwardly, but somehow managing to settle between her thighs, to relax flush against her body without his fingers ever leaving her breast. She was breathing heavily now, as though she’d been moving furniture in the shop on the hottest Tuesday afternoon in August. She bit her lip, her fingers jerking the hem of his shirt so that it pulled free of his jeans. He glanced down at what she’d done, then his eyes flicked back to hers and the look of playful desire there made her giggle.
He moved against her, doing something with his hips so that he was cradled more fully and the feel of him robbed the sound from her throat. She closed her eyes, her hand reaching up to where he was still playing with her breast, covering his hand through the thin layer of fabric. When she opened her eyes, she was shocked at the naked need on his face.
