I wakeup to the sound of moaning. My eyes flutter open, but it’s still dark outside. The only light in the room comes from the Christmas tree in the corner. I rub my eyes, and memories of last night come flooding back. I got the news of the shared internship, consoled myself with reality TV, cookies and wine, then decided I’d do a little home spa. I look around and realize I must’ve fallen asleep on the couch after my failed pedicure. But then I hear another moan and I see Whit lying next to me, his legs tangled in blankets, his hand on his cock, and my name on his lips.
“Fuck, Lucy. That’s good. God damn, your hands…” His words are mumbled, almost half-formed, but his desire is evident, and maybe that’s what drives my boldness. I told myself that what we shared in August was goodbye, that we’d move on and forget about each other. But that’s just not possible.
My small handcovers his as I give in to temptation and slide over, straddling him. “I’ve been wanting to touch you for so long.” I’m not as good at sexy talk, but I’m honest. Or at least, I am here, now, with Whit. He’s the only person in the world I can be myself around, strange as that sounds. With everyone else, I have to be the Lucy they expect me to be, but with Whit I can just be.
At my words,his eyes flutter open, and his hips still. A look of sheer terror passes across his face and, for a moment, my heart stops.
“Luce, oh, shit… I…”He releases himself and grabs for the sheets, but they’re twisted around his legs.
I should hopoff this bed. Act appalled. Rail at him for daring to fantasize about me in such a way. I know it’s what he expects me to do, but it’s not what I feel. Maybe it’s the hour, or my need to make him understand that this thing between us goes two ways. Or maybe I’m just tired of pretending I don’t want him. Either way, a lazy smile spreads across my lips, and I assure him by peppering kisses on his neck and rocking my hips against his. “You were dreaming.”
“Maybe I still am?”His words are slow, reverent, sleepy, but not drunk. His hands cup my breasts, and I throw my head back in ecstasy. God, how pitiful is it that just a touch, through fabric, no less, has me minutes away from losing my mind?
“You’re not dreaming. I promise.”My assurance brings a smile to his handsome face.
“I should be embarrassedas fuck, dreaming about you...my—you—this way.” His actions belie his words. He cradles my hips in his big hands and tilts me at an angle, and then thrusts upward, his fully erect cock pulsing at my entrance. “I should lie and tell you I’m drunk on a few sips of wine, or that it’s proximity that has me so fucking hard. Yeah, I should pretend I always get morning wood at... two a.m.” He laughs a little harshly and sets me back, my ass now resting on my heels, his legs spread wide. I shiver from the loss of contact and brace myself for his rejection, but it never comes.
Instead,I’m met with his gaze. It’s his serious face, one I rarely see. His eyes penetrate my soul, urging me to listen.
“But I can’t lieto you, Luce. Not anymore. Fuck, I want you.” He grips his cock to emphasize his point. “I want you so damn much, and I have for so damn long.” His strokes continue, long, slow, a little rough. I study them because that’s who I am. I’m paying attention to every grip and slide, my hands tingling, waiting for their turn to make him feel good.
“I’ve wantedyou on so many inappropriate, depraved levels. Remember that summer we were what, fourteen? Christ, I had the dirtiest goddamn thoughts of you that summer. And I haven’t stopped. Not when we had to say goodbye. Not even when they…” He falters, neither one of us wanting to acknowledge that our parents’ room is right upstairs. They’re off on their honeymoon, so there’s no one to hear us, but still.
“You ever fantasize about me, Luce?”I blush, no response on my lips, my admission clear just the same.
“Because I fantasize about you.About your sweet kisses and your smart fucking mouth.” He grips his cock tighter, his eyes closing in pain or pleasure, I can’t quite tell.
“I dream of this ass.My God, Lucy, you have no fucking clue what your curves do to me.” He grips the fleshy part of my ass with his free hand, and his touch is not gentle, but God, it feels good. He skims his hand upward, feathering up my ribcage, sloping over my shoulders. His fingers graze over the buttons of my sleep shirt. “I dream of these perfect tits. God. Fuck. Show me, Luce, lemme see.”
It takesme two seconds to rip my shirt off and toss it to the floor. My nipples are hard, almost to the point of being painful. I’ve always hated my boobs. Resented them for being small, at least compared to my ass. If they were bigger, fuller, rounder, I could pretend I’m a bombshell. I could rock my tiny waist and ample hips. Instead, they’re B cups, no match for my sizeable bottom. But here, with Whit, I feel gorgeous. Sexy. Desirable. So powerful.
“Fuck. Me.”He reaches up with his hand and his eyes, asking permission. I nod and smile, unable to speak, because I’d surely shout, “Touch my fucking boobs, Caleb Whitman!” And that would not be appropriate at all.
“Perfection.”He licks his palms and returns them to my breasts. It should be weird, I guess, but, God, it’s heavenly. He feels it too. His cock strains forward, nudging my belly and I feel his pre-cum on the tip.
“Lucy…”My name is a moan on his lips, and it pushes me forward on this pathway of desire. My inhibitions, which are plenty, are gone. Decimated. All I want is our pleasure. His and mine. His from me, mine from him. I slide my left hand between my thighs, and he groans at the sight, surely assuming I’m going to take care of myself. And, yes, it’s tempting. But this isn’t about me. It’s about us. So, I slick my fingers with the pool of wetness that covers my inner folds, my eyes drifting shut at the contact.
“Feel good, Luce?”I open my eyes to see him watching me with anticipation. My pleasure ignites fire in his eyes, and if I weren’t so consumed right now, I’d probably cry. Somehow, Whit is the one who sees me. He sees how strong I am. He sees how vulnerable I can be. And right now, he sees me reach my hand, my fingers flooded with the juices of my sex, to his cock, stroking my wetness along his length.
“Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Lucy,”he hisses.
“Yes, Whit, it feels good.”I answer.
His eyes flutter shut,and he curses. I’m starting to love that sound. “Damn right, it feels good, Lucy.Youfeel good.”
I stroke his cock,gripping the base and twisting ever so slightly as my palm covers his length. It’s heady, this sensation of being in charge. But soon he’s tapping my wrist and moving my hand to my breast.
“You keep touchingme like that, Lucy, and this show is gonna last about five more minutes.”
The lust-filledlook in his eyes makes me bold and I cup my breasts, lifting them like an offering and feeling their weight in palms.
“That’s it,Lucy. Touch those pretty tits for me while I touch this sweet pussy.”
He tracesmy slit with his finger and God, it feels so good. But still, I freeze up just a little.
“You ok, Luce?”
I’m fine.In fact, I’m a whole lot better than fine. And his fingers feel amazing. I’m not going to come like this. But that’s hardly sexy talk. “That feels incredible.”
