TWENTY
DESPERATION
Four days later, Thanksgiving is over and we’re back in Westchester. Holt’s barely gotten my apartment door open before I’m on him, kissing him with everything I have.
He drops my bag in surprise, and we almost trip over it.
“Cassie, slow down…”
“Don’t tell me to slow down,” I say, and push him the short distance to the couch. “Four days, Ethan. Four days of interminable fondling, interrupted orgasms, and family drama. The time for being slow has passed. Now, please, shut up and kiss me.”
Whatever he’s going to say next is smothered by my mouth, and I straddle him as I bury my fingers in his hair.
He feels amazing. Tastes amazing. How one man can taste so good is completely beyond me.
I know I’m out of control, but he’s made me this way. Our weekend with his family ended up being pretty enjoyable, despite some tension when his dad was around. But being in close quarters with him for twenty-four hours a day was sexual torture. Between sightseeing with his sister and family meals, we rarely got time alone. And when we were, he’d always stop before we got to the good stuff. The whole weekend turned out to be one giant round of excruciating foreplay, and if he doesn’t stop stalling and give me some relief pretty damn pronto, there’s going to be a girl-parts rebellion the likes of which he’s never seen. I’m wound tighter than Jane Fonda’s latest facelift, goddammit.
“Take off your shirt.” I kiss all over his face, then move down his neck while I add in some nibbling, because I know it makes him crazy.
“Wait … just— Oh, fuck…”
I bite down at the point where his neck meets his shoulder and suck hard. He pushes his pelvis up so suddenly, he nearly bucks me off his lap.
“Jesus, Cassie!”
“Shirt! Off!”
I tug and yank it over his head. His hair looks like I’ve electrocuted him. With the way my neurons are firing right now, I probably could.
When I throw his shirt away, it smacks into the lamp beside us and knocks it to the floor in an explosion of porcelain.
He drags his mouth away from me long enough to assess the damage. “You murdered the lamp.”
I circle my hips. “Stop talking. Lamp’s not important. Getting naked is.”
I fumble as I unbutton my shirt. He says something in protest, but I tear it off anyway. It lands on the floor next to the lamp corpse and leaves me just in my bra. I press my chest to his and exhale in relief. I want to lick him all over. I start on his neck and revel in the salty and sweet of his skin, as I move my hips to rub against him.
Ohhh, he’s hard and perfect. All of his other parts taste good, and I wonder if that would, too.
Just thinking about it makes me even more desperate, and something’s seriously gotta give before I burst into flames.
“Pants,” I say, and it’s barely even a word. More like a hoarse bark.
“What?” He’s doing something amazing to my boobs.
I can barely form words, but I try. “Holt, for the love of all that’s holy, take off your damn pants!”
My yelling shocks him into stillness, so I take matters into my own hands. He makes vague protests as I fumble with his belt, but at this point, all of his arguments are invalid.
His belt is the stupid type that just has a solid metal plate held together with pins or something. I tug at it, frustrated.
“Crap…”
“Cassie—”
“How the frack does this thing work?!” I grab it with both hands and pull and push in an attempt to make it come apart with brute force, but it won’t budge. “Dammit, Ethan, help me!”
I feel like I’m in a disaster movie, and that belt is the iceberg that’s going to sink the good ship Orgasm. It must be destroyed.
At last, the buckle gives way, and I make a small victory noise before I frantically unbutton his jeans.
“I want you,” I say as I push my hand into his boxers.
Oh, God, yes. That, right there. That’s what I want.
“Ohhhhh … Jesus.” His eyes glaze over when I close my hand around him.
“Please, Ethan.” I’m so whiny, I’m almost ashamed. “Ruby isn’t going to be home until tomorrow. We have the whole place to ourselves. Please.”
The look on his face tells me he’s about to say something I don’t want to hear, so I kiss him to shut him up and stroke him slowly. He moans and grips my thighs. Neither of those things makes me any less frantic.
I stand and unbutton my jeans then tug them down to my knees in record time. I try standing on them to get them off, but they’re skinny jeans, and the stupid things won’t go over my giant feet.
“Dammit!”
I yank my right foot up and try to pull it free, but I end up overbalancing and face-plant into Ethan’s crotch. My chin hits something soft, and he doubles over and cups himself.
“Fuuuuuuck, woman…”
“Sorry! Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”
He collapses sideways on the couch. I try to stand, desperate to help in some way, but my feet are still encased in my jeans, so I just end up falling over again.
“Fracking frack!”
Holt groans, his face half turned into the couch cushion. “Taylor, if you’re going to be a badass who destroys her boyfriend’s balls, you’re going to have to start using real swear words.”
I sit on the ground and tug at my jeans until my feet are free, then I kneel in front of him. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
His voice is strained when he says, “Well, I don’t have the problem of coming in record time anymore, that’s for damn sure.”
I lean down and stroke his hair. “I’m sorry.”
“You keep saying that. It doesn’t help.”
“I don’t know what else to do.”
He eyes my jeans, which are like a denim pretzel beside me. “You’re the only person I know who can turn getting undressed into an extreme sport. What the hell is the rush?”
“I just … I want you.”
“I want you, too, but that doesn’t mean we have to have sex this very second. We haven’t even been to third base yet.”
“Yes, we have.”
He scoffs. “No, we haven’t. I’d remember you going down on me. Or me going down on you, for that matter.”
All of the blood that isn’t currently pulsing down south now rushes to my face. “You haven’t— I mean … That’s third base?” I have a flash of self-consciousness about him being all face-friendly down there. “I … uh … I thought that was fourth base.”
He sits up and frowns. “Cassie, fourth base is sex. How many bases do you think there are?”
I don’t know, but I want him to teach me about all of them.
I lean in to kiss him, but he pulls away. “Just … stop, for a second okay? What’s going on with you?”
“I’m sorry, I just—” I slump back onto my heels, feeling frustrated and foolish. “You make me crazy, and I want to do stuff to you and have you do stuff to me, but you keep stopping and I…” My eyes prickle. I can’t pretend his continued rejections don’t hurt.
“Come here.” He pulls me up onto the couch, and we lie side by side.
I sigh when he grazes the backs of his fingers across my cheek. “I just get the feeling I want this more than you do, and that sucks, you know?”
He looks at me like I’ve accused him of liking Adam Sandler movies. “You think—” He shakes his head. “You think I don’t want you? Are you fucking serious?”
He runs his hand down my side and reaches the bare skin of my thigh. “How can you possibly think for even one second I don’t—” He looks down. “Fuck me, what are you wearing?”
My panties and bra don’t match, but he doesn’t seem to care. He runs one fingertip around the edge of my lacy boy shorts. It’s the closest he’s ever come to delving beneath the fabric, and my heart rate immediately goes into overdrive.
“You like these?”
He closes his hand over my hip. “I like you. Your panties are just a bonus. If you understood … if you had any idea how much I—” He looks at me, eyes heavy and dark. “Cassie, I want you, all the time. Too much.”
He leans forward to cover my mouth with his, and the light suction almost distracts me from the way he runs his hand down my leg to grip the spot just under my knee.
“I have to be careful with you,” he says between soft, slow kisses. “Because if I screw this up…” He kisses my neck, almost talking to himself. “I really don’t want to screw this up.”
“You won’t.” I take his face in both hands to make him look at me. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen, right?”
He grazes fingers across my stomach, then slowly moves up to my breasts. He teases me there as he kisses my neck, then my chest, then the swells at the top of my bra. Just when I think he can’t inflame me any more, he moves his hands lower. And lower. Then he’s right there, over my panties, touching gently at first, then pressing harder, making my breathing shallow. He takes control of my pleasure like he has an instruction manual, watching my face the whole time to gauge my reaction.
How is it possible? How can he know what to do to my body when I’m still fumbling and clueless?
Within sixty seconds, he has me closer to orgasm than I can get in ten minutes on my own. I subconsciously rock against his hand, to try and find the magical fulcrum of sensation that will tip me over the edge.
“That look,” he says, as I press my head back into the cushions. “That belongs to me. The way your mouth drops open. Your eyelids flutter. That look is all mine.”
Then I gasp, because he pushes into my panties and brushes aside the lace. He’s never done that before, and ohhhhh, dear God, his fingers …
His perfect, virtuosic fingers.
I squeeze my eyes shut as he touches parts he’s never touched before.
He groans, too, and presses his forehead against mine. “Jesus … so soft. And bare. What the fuck are you trying to do to me?”
“Ruby.” I’m panting and barely coherent.
“No, I’m Ethan. But if there’s some awesome lesbian tale you’d like to tell me about you and your roommate, I’m all ears.” He presses harder.
“No,” I say, barely able to get the words out. “Ruby forces me to get Brazilians. That’s why I’m bare. It hurts like hell.”
He moves his hand faster, and I can’t keep my eyes open.
“Right now, Ruby is my hero. I’ve never felt anything like this.”
“Oh, God … Me neither.”
Then it feels like he’s kissing and touching everywhere at once, and everything is hard breaths and low noises. He tightens and coils me, until I think I might pass out from the intensity.
“I love making you come,” he whispers, right before it happens. My back arches, and all the tightrope strands of me snap and unfurl.
Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God …
He murmurs his approval as he watches me spiral through layers of pleasure, and whispers encouragement until I’m panting and boneless beside him.
Wow.
Just … wow.
The last few shudders fade, and I melt into his arms, beyond relaxed. Endless days of frustration and sexual tension disappear, and I’m so heavily satisfied, I can’t move. Thank God at least one of us knows how to get me off.
He pulls my panties back into place. I take deep breaths, but it seems to take forever for my pounding heart to slow down.
When I open my eyes, I see him looking at me with an expression that makes my pulse race again. But as soon as our eyes meet, something shifts, and his emotional shutters slide down.
I stroke his face in an effort to keep him with me. “That was … amazing.”
“Yeah?”
“Lord, yes. So, you’re telling me that was … what? Second base?”
“Uh huh.”
“Wow. Second base rocks.”
“Do you feel less … frantic now?”
“Yes. I feel like a sloth on Valium.” I trail my hand down the front of his jeans and feel how hard he still is. “So, can I help you relax now?”
He tenses. “I’m relaxed.”
“First of all, you’re hardly ever relaxed. Second, this part of you is definitely uptight. I’m guessing he’d like a little trip to third base. Or maybe even a home run.”
“Cassie…” He moves away and sits at the other end of the couch. “We’re not going to have sex tonight.”
“Why not?”
He turns to me. “How can you be so blasé about having sex for the first time?”
“I’m not blasé, I just don’t think it’s that big a deal.”
“That’s the definition of blasé.”
I sigh. “Okay, fine, but I think I’m ready. And I can tell you are, too, so I don’t understand why you keep saying no. I mean, aren’t you uncomfortable? Don’t you want some relief?”
He gives me a wry smile. “Do you think all of those trips to the bathroom during our stay with Mom and Dad were to pee? You must think I have the smallest bladder in the world.”
“You mean, when you went to the bathroom you were…”
“Yep.” He says it with very little shame.
Just the thought of him pleasuring himself makes my face flame. “In your parents’ house?!”
“I grew up in that house. I’ve been masturbating there since I hit puberty. Besides, it was either that or walk around for the whole weekend with a hard-on, and believe me, that would have been worse.”
“But if I turn you on so much, why aren’t we naked in my bed right now?”
He adjusts himself and runs his hand through his hair. “Cassie, I’m hyperaware that you’re a virgin, and apart from the pain you’re going to feel the first time, it’s also going to be a milestone in your life. You’ll never get to have a first time ever again, and I … I just don’t want to screw that up for you.”
“How on earth could you screw it up? It’s not like you don’t know what you’re doing. I mean, judging by what you can achieve with just your fingers, having your whole body is going to rock my world.”
“I’m not talking about the actual sex.”
“Then what are you talking about? Because I’m kind of confused here.”
He looks down at his hands. “What if we do it, and you figure out I can’t be the boyfriend you need and end up hating me? The memory of your first time would always be tainted.”
“Why would you even think that?”
He takes a deep breath. “Because it happened to me.” He clasps his hands in front of him and squeezes his knuckles until they crack.
It takes me a few moments before the penny drops. “Oh! Vanessa? She was your—”
“Yes.”
We sit in silence for a few seconds, and I feel bad for doubting he wanted me. It never occurred to me he was trying to make sure I didn’t jump headfirst into a sexual relationship I’d end up regretting.
“I just don’t want you to make the mistakes I did,” he says.
I nod. “Okay. I can see where you’re coming from.”
His eyes are guarded but tinged with the lust I saw earlier. “You can?”
“Yeah. I kind of think … well, it’s actually pretty sweet of you.”
He frowns. “Don’t call me sweet. Call me hot. Or awesome. Or well endowed. Kittens are sweet, not me.”
I try not to laugh. “Okay, fine. You’re a hot, awesome, well-endowed bad-ass.”
He nods. “Better.”
I poke him with my foot, and he grabs it. He gives it a gentle squeeze before he brings it up to his mouth so he can kiss my ankle.
Oh, sweet Holy Mother …
“So,” he says as he kisses my calf, “my point is, I might have a lot of issues, but not wanting you isn’t one of them. Controlling myself around you, on the other hand…” He looks pointedly at my panties and bare legs. “That’s a definite problem. You have me so turned on all of the time, I’m embarrassed to think how short my fuse will be when we finally seal the deal.”
I move over to straddle his hips and wind my fingers in his hair. “But we are going to seal the deal?”
He puts his hands on my thighs and strokes slowly. “Maybe. If we try this boyfriend-girlfriend thing for a while, and you don’t want to murder me.”
“Yeah, I’ll go out on a limb and say that even if I wanted to murder you, I’d still want to have sex with you. Are you sure you don’t want to do it tonight? Ruby has, like, a thousand condoms in her nightstand. She wouldn’t miss one. Or four.”
He drops his head back and half groans, half laughs as I kiss his neck. I know how much he likes it when I nibble and suck. Am I trying to make him forget all the noble reasons we should wait? Maybe. All I know is that the longer I spend kissing him, the hungrier I get. He thinks I could end up regretting sleeping with him. I doubt it. But I do know that if he leaves here tonight without making love to me, I’d definitely regret that.
I kiss him all over, trying to break down his resistance.
His chest is warm, and I use soft lips and gentle fingers. When I look up, I find him watching me. As I move farther down and explore the ridges of his abs, he tilts his head back and exhales.
I whisper things into his skin. I tell him how beautiful he is, how special, how much I need him. He replies with a frown. I don’t think he believes me, but I’m determined to make him.
When I go back to his mouth, he lets me see more of his need and kisses me so deeply, he makes me dizzy.
When I reach for the fly of his pants, he pulls back, breathless. “I thought we agreed to not have sex tonight?”
“No. You said we should wait. I didn’t agree.”
“But you said you understood. You thought it was sweet.”
“I do understand, and your concern is sweet. I just think it’s completely unnecessary.” I graze my fingers across his chest and watch as goose bumps form. “If you really don’t want to take this any further tonight, no problem. Just tell me to stop.” I kiss his neck. Taste his skin. Salty and warm despite the chill outside. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
He grips my hips as I grind against him, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Do you want me to stop, Ethan?” I kiss his clavicle, his pec, just above his nipple. He squeezes his eyes shut. “Or do you want me to keep touching you?”
When his eyes open, there’s fire there. Deep and hungry.
He wraps his fist in my hair. “You don’t think I can stop, do you?”
“I know you can. I just really hope you won’t.”
He stares at me for a few seconds before pulling me in for a searing kiss.
Lips. Tongue. Oh, God. His tongue.
He tastes like lust. Smells like it, too. Even though I can feel him trying to resist, I know his erogenous zones just as well as he knows mine, and I use them against him.
After a few more minutes of coaxing, his hands are everywhere, pushing under elastic and tugging at straps. When I sense him becoming greedy, I pull back. His gaze heats my skin as he watches me remove my bra. Then just like that, he doesn’t seem so cautious any more. He makes a sound, and I swear it’s the last of his willpower snapping. He stands, taking me with him, and it’s like he’s all around me. Hands, and mouth, and dark, needy noises.
Then, everything seems to happen in a blur. My back is pressed against walls and doors as he moves us toward the bedroom. I tug on his hair. Sink teeth into his shoulder. He carries me with one arm and uses the other to tug at his clothes.
We’re both needy. Urgent hands push and probe, not satisfied with anything but unencumbered skin. For me, every layer that hits the floor feels like a victory. Every low noise he makes becomes my new anthem.
Each time he crushes against me, I can feel more of him, and the more I feel, the more I need.
When we’re finally both naked on the bed, the sheer volume of his skin against mine makes me stop dead in my tracks and gasp for air.
When I stare up at him, my awe is reflected in his eyes.
“Cassie…”
I stop him with a kiss. “Say you want me.”
“You know I do, but…”
“Then make love to me.”
He drops his head and exhales. “You deserve—”
“You. I deserve you. Stop second-guessing this and make love to me. You said you want my first time to be special. Well, make it special. I want it to be you. Don’t you understand? This is the most special thing you can give me. Please.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. His body is bound up with tension from so many different sources, I don’t think he can figure out how to unwind himself. I push him onto his back and straddle his hips before leaning over so my hair brushes his chest. I stroke his arms to try and loosen his emotional knots.
“Stop thinking,” I whisper, and kiss down his neck. He sighs when I move down to his chest and lifts my hair so he can watch. “For one night, just be with me. No fear. No guilt. Just us.”
I move down and kiss his stomach. Warm skin. Sparse hair. Muscles tremble under my lips as he tightens his hand in my hair.
“It’s not easy to just switch off my brain,” he says, his voice quiet.
“Then let me help you.”
I move down to where he’s hard and graze with fingers first, then lips and tongue. He makes a long, strained noise that vibrates through all of his muscles.
Lord, how he sounds. How he feels. How every stroke makes him let go just a little bit more.
I look up and see he’s watching me, enraptured. For once, he’s totally here. Not lost in his head somewhere. His expression is breathtakingly vulnerable as I bring him pleasure.
“God … Cassie…”
He strokes my face gently, the expression on his face reverent. I move my mouth over him, making every touch say something.
When he swears under his breath, I know he’s close. Before he can finish, he lifts me up and away and pushes me onto my back. He kisses me then moves down to the rest of my body to explore all of the parts he hasn’t seen before.
The look of astonishment on his face almost makes me laugh. I have no illusions that I have a perfect body or that I’m the most beautiful girl in the world. But the way he looks at me makes me feel like I am.
He trails fingertips over my nipples and makes me shiver. His mouth follows.
Yes.
Every dip and groove of my body is explored. Touched and kissed. Sucked and nibbled. He worships my skin, and makes soft noises that speak louder than most of the words he’s ever said.
Like this, he’s mine. Completely. It’s so clear in the way he watches me. As if he’s looking for every new milestone of pleasure while he convinces all of my nerve endings to dance for him.
I’m desperate to ask him if this is normal. If the other women he’s been with have come so thoroughly undone by him. But I decide to believe this is extraordinary for both of us. That this bizarre chemical eruption we bring out in each other is unique.
I go into a haze as he pushes his hand between my thighs. Gentle fingers. Tight circles. I clutch and grip at him; whisper his name to urge him on. Needing, needing, needing.
Long minutes stretch and ebb. He strings me along, gentle but determined, and when he finally lets me come, I cry out as all of my muscles tremble and spasm.
I grip his shoulders throughout my climax, and he kisses my forehead. He seems to be breathing almost as heavily as I am. When I come back to my senses and open my eyes, he looks confused. Almost like he can’t believe what he just witnessed.
“I’ll never get tired of seeing that,” he says and shakes his head. “It’s freaking ridiculous how someone else’s orgasm can give me so much pleasure.”
He collapses onto his back, and I kiss down his neck, to his chest, then press my lips over his heart to feel how fast it’s pounding. I notice how it speeds up when I reach between us and take him in my hand.
“Ohhhhh, God…”
The feel of him makes me want him even more. Like I’m holding the exact shape of my need. I wonder if I’ll ever see anything more magnificent than Ethan in the throes of pleasure. I highly doubt it.
“You are so beautiful,” I whisper.
He opens his eyes, and for just a moment, I think he lets himself believe it.
I kiss him. His response is hungry and desperate, and I’ve never needed anything more than I need him inside me. He either needs it, too, or he finally understands my relentless determination, because he grabs his jeans off the floor, tugs his wallet free, and pulls out a condom.
I’ve never seen a man put on a condom before, and although it seems like it wouldn’t be an inherently sensual act, watching Ethan do it is incredibly arousing. He moves quickly, hands sure and confident, and a shiver runs up my spine.
We’re going to have sex.
I’m going to lose my virginity.
For the first time in my life, I’m going to have another person … a man … Ethan … inside my body.
I’m overcome by a wave of nerves. For so long, I’ve sworn black and blue that my virginity was nothing more than a burden, but as Ethan kisses me and rolls between my legs, the reality of what’s about to happen dawns on me.
I tense up. He’s so close to where I’ve wanted him for months.
He stops and frowns. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I just—”
“We can stop. We probably should…”
“No! God, no, please.” I touch his face. “I’m just … this is kind of a big moment, you know? I didn’t think it would be, but it is. After this … everything will be different.”
His expression darkens. “I’m going to hurt you.”
“I know. But it has to happen, right?”
He doesn’t answer. Regretful already.
“When it comes to that part, just do it, okay? Quickly. I’d rather it be fast and over with than all drawn out.”
He pauses as his fear builds. “Cassie…”
I wrap my arms around him and pull him down. He kisses me deeply, but the sound he makes almost feels like a protest. As if he wants to stop but can’t.
“I’ll be all right,” I whisper and stroke his face. “Don’t worry.” He’s pressed against me, and I can feel how hard and ready he is. I kiss him once more. “Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad it’s you.”
He swallows and nods, and when he kisses me again, I feel him reach between us. I hold my breath. There’s pressure, much more than with his fingers, and it increases as he pushes forward. He doesn’t get far. We grunt against each other’s lips before stilling, forehead to forehead.
“You okay?”
I nod. “Don’t stop.”
He moves again, and the pressure starts to burn. When I close my eyes against the pain, he stops.
“No. Keep going. Please.”
“Look at me.”
I open my eyes and see strain and worry on his face. “Just keep looking at me, okay? Don’t think about the pain. Be with me.” He moves forward again until he can’t go any farther. I grunt in frustration. He pulls back before he thrusts with more force, and this time, it really hurts. I groan, and he tries to distract me with his mouth.
“You feel amazing,” he whispers against my lips. “I knew you would but … Jesus.” He thrusts again, and I cry out when a sharp pain shoots through me. I dig my nails into his shoulders.
He stops for a second, but I urge him on.
When he pushes forward, it hurts. Muscles and tissues stretch and ache. A flash of panic hits as I think he’s not going to fit.
God, no. What if he doesn’t fit?
He rocks back and forth and manages to go a little deeper each time. His brows furrow in concentration, and he alternates between asking if I’m okay and kissing me.
“I’m sorry it hurts,” he whispers. I grit my teeth when he moves deeper. “I never wanted to hurt you. Ever.”
Another thrust. Then another. I push out a long breath, and so does he. Then his hips rest against my inner thighs, and I realize … he’s inside me.
Fully.
His body joined with mine.
Finally.
I look up at him in surprise. The pain has been replaced by a throbbing burn, but it doesn’t stop my mind from being blown. Everything he’s feeling is reflected in his eyes. Joy, shock, lust, love, regret, elation. Like this, he’s an open book. Nothing hidden or buried.
Just us. Joined in so many more ways than just the physical.
It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt.
Full to overflowing with him, I can barely breathe. This is what I’ve waited for. What I’ve craved for months. I understand why he’s been hiding from these feeling all this time. They’re too powerful and too scary. If you never see paradise, you don’t know what you’re missing.
But we see now. Both of us. He’s been blinded from seeing, and as much as he wants to look away, he can’t.
Neither can I.
“Cassie…”
“I’m okay.”
He moves a little then freezes. All of his muscles tense. “God … I can’t. You feel … unbelievable.”
He drops his head into my neck and just breathes. I hold him and savor the moment. Stroke his back. Take in the all-over rightness of him.
I’d thought I didn’t want special, but here it is. His face is pressed into my throat, and I can tell he’s trying to control himself. Being with him like this is more than special. It’s essential. I can’t imagine giving this part of myself to anyone else. I try to take a mental snapshot, because I know in the album of my life, this moment is irreplaceable.
He pushes up onto his elbows, and when he moves, he does it slowly. He watches me with a look of concerned concentration. I think he’s trying to hide how much he’s enjoying himself. Like it’s wrong he’s feeling pleasure while I’m in pain.
He needn’t worry. With each thrust, the burn diminishes, and after a couple of minutes, I’m breathless and arching from the deep slide of him.
His thrusts become more confident.
“You’re inside me,” I say.
He kisses my shoulder and presses his forehead against it. His voice is strained when he says, “Only fair. You’ve been inside me for months. Are you okay?”
“Hmmm. You feel amazing.”
He pushes in deeply and groans. “I feel amazing? Are you kidding me? You feel…” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Cassie, there aren’t enough words to describe how incredible you feel.”
He keeps rocking, and although neither of us can talk anymore, the noises in the room speak volumes. Groaning breaths. Raspy sighs. All manner of murmurs as we kiss and grip each other.
He pushes onto his hands, and I can’t tell whether he’s trying to hold on or let go. His face is beautiful. Every nuance of what he’s feeling is playing out in intricate detail. He’s showing me all the parts of him I knew were buried inside. Sure, the fear is still there, but so is the strength, the courage, the raw vulnerability and profound emotion. I want to tell him how breathtaking he is, but I don’t have the words. I’m too mesmerized to even attempt to find them. Too hesitant to look away in case he disappears.
Soon, I can’t keep my eyes open, so I close them and just feel. Fingers grip. Hips connect. Muscles tremble and skin heats. Tension coils inside me, and I open my eyes to find him looking down at me, open-mouthed and heavy-lidded.
“Cassie…”
He whispers my name in the moments when his mouth isn’t on me. It sounds likes he’s begging. For what, I don’t know. Whatever he wants, it’s his for the taking. Having him like this has ruined me. How could I ever want anyone else after experiencing him?
He’s so deep in me, he’s tattooed himself on every nerve ending. Pleasure and pain and gasping perfection.
“Cassie, I can’t. I’m going to … Oh, God. Oh, God.”
His face crumbles. His thrusts become erratic, and all of his exhales sound more like moans. He wraps around me and holds me so close it feels like we share the same thundering heartbeat. The pleasure burn inside me has blossomed into a full-blown fire. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes open and watch him.
A guttural sound vibrates in his chest, before the thrusting stops. He falls forward and mumbles incoherent whispers into my chest.
I sigh under the weight of him, feeling heavy and sated. I can’t move and don’t want to. We breathe against each other, and I can still feel him inside. For some reason, tears spill onto my cheeks.
I think part of me believed we’d never get to this point. That he’d never agree to be a part of this most intimate act. And yet, here we are, naked and breathless, having given each other a part of ourselves no one else has.
I try to swallow down my emotions, but I can’t, so I just let the tears fall.
Is this what being in love feels like? Overwhelming gratitude that the other person is with you as you share something astonishing? Knowing that the most astonishing thing they can share is themselves?
“Thank you,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
He squeezes me, and I’m surprised to feel moisture on my shoulder. I try to see his face, but he keeps it buried in my neck.
“Ethan?”
He stays silent and holds me. His breathing is shallow. I can feel his heart pounding through his ribcage, and I stroke his back to give him a moment.
Eventually, he exhales. It’s deep and shaky. He lifts his hips to withdraw slowly, and when he’s completely out, a strange emptiness expands inside me. Without meaning to, I tighten my arms around him. He kisses me before he pushes back onto his heels and removes the condom.
“Come on,” he says. He gets out of bed and holds his hand out to me. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
In the bathroom, he fills the tub and makes me soak for a while. I close my eyes as he washes my back. I ache but not more so than when I exercise muscles that aren’t used to being worked.
Ethan’s quiet, but he keeps one hand on me at all times. Makes sure I’m okay.
When we climb back into bed, I snuggle into his chest. His heartbeat sounds weird. Kind of like there’s an extra echo in his ribs. But he strokes my arm and soon, it’s just a rumble beneath my ear.
When I drift off, I dream about him.
Dream Ethan stands in front of me and gets dressed. He pulls on layer after layer, and covers all the parts that just made love to me. The brave parts. The loving parts.
I try to stop him, but he’s determined. Eventually, everything is hidden again. Covered and protected.
No. We’re beyond this now.
He mouths something. I study his lips as they meet then pull apart.
What is he saying?
For a moment, I think he’s telling me he loves me. Saying it so softly I can barely hear. But then I hear …
“I’m sorry.”
He says it time and again. Quiet and regretful.
When I wake up, a crawling sickness overcomes me as I realize it wasn’t a dream.