Cai
There’s something going on here that I don’t understand. I rub Tansy’s back and wonder if she realizes she’s trembling like she’s the one who just had a world-changing orgasm. I don’t think it’s from a good source though. Not with the way she’s hiding against me. She’s caught in a web.
I didn’t like Jody when I met her, and if possible, I like her even less now. This fragility is her fault. I’m sure of it.
I just don’t know what to do about it.
“Let’s go to your bedroom.”
She nods, takes my hand, and leads me back the way we came in. This feels like an abnormal quiet, the kind of silence that isn’t usual to cheery, happy Tansy. Unless this is the real her and what I’ve known before was an act? It’s hard to parse the difference between truth and the pretty face people put on in the first flush of a new relationship. Sometimes I don’t want to figure it out—but Tansy is different.
All of Tansy is different. It’s not that she’s fragile, it’s that she keeps trying anyway. Keeps moving up.
I get more of a look around her room this time. Enough boxes line the north wall that it looks like a kid’s fort. The bed is enormous and probably came with the room. Seafoam-green bed hangings draped from the tall posts coordinate with the darker gray-green walls. Piled on the nightstand is a stack of novels with cracked spines. On top of the stack is a coffee cup with a glittery unicorn pooping a rainbow.
Tansy makes a run for the side of the bed that’s piled with clothes. She grabs big armfuls and tosses them onto the wing chair in the corner. “Sorry it’s a mess. I haven’t really settled in, and I didn’t really know I’d be having company. I mean, I didn’t really expect this. Us.”
She waves a hand around the space between us. I catch her fingers, twining mine through hers. Her palm is hot and her skin delicate, but something in the middle of her palm catches my attention. I turn her hand upward and skim a touch over the center. “What’s this?”
“Bunch of paper cuts.” Her fingers twitch as if she’s trying to yank away, but then she stills. She takes a deep breath. “From this morning. I was stacking supplies for the kids’ project.”
“I didn’t know teaching was a dangerous job.”
She pouts a little bit. “You don’t have to mock me.”
My eyebrows fly up. I dip my knees, trying to look at her expression. She seems serious. “I wasn’t. I didn’t mean to.”
“Oh.” Her pout doesn’t go away though.
I cup her cheek and lay my thumb over that softened bottom lip. “What’s going on with you?”
“I don’t know. I’m a mess.” She covers her face, her shoulders curling in. “I’m sorry. Ugh.”
“Stop it.” I peel her hands away, use them both to pull her closer to me. “You’re in your head, aren’t you? Thinking about something else?” Or someone else.
“I don’t want to.” Her eyes are huge. It almost seems like she’s two breaths from crying again, which is such a switch from where we were moments ago. My brain is still hazed in afterglow, but she needs me. “I don’t want to think about anything but you.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, my feet on the floor. “Come here.”
She comes close enough that our knees nudge and her toes stack on mine. “Will you make me feel good?” Her words come out in a whisper.
“I hope so.” Christ, I really fucking hope so. I’m going to feel like a pile of shit if I fail her, especially after how good she made me feel.
I haul her into my lap so that she’s sitting sideways. She folds around me, her head resting on my shoulder and her knees along my ribs. I wrap an arm around her back and tuck my other hand under her thigh. I pet her back and legs, running my fingers up and down in soft and gentle circles. She sighs and eases into my hold.
“I like the way you feel in my lap, little one.” I speak the words into the cloud of her hair.
“I like it too.” But then she opens her mouth over my neck and I get a sharp nip.
I pinch her neck and pull her back. “Don’t be bad.”
She’s smirking a little. “Make me?”
“Are you a baby girl? A brat?”
A wrinkle twists her pale brows. “I don’t know. Maybe? Tell me what you mean?”
“Daddy doms and little girls are a certain kind of thing. A way some people play tops and bottoms.” I gentle the hold I have on the back of her neck but don’t let her go completely. “I’m starting to think you’ve got some of that.”
She bites her bottom lip. Pink flushes her mouth. “But that would make you my daddy? You are most certainly not a boy. How does that still work?”
I shrug and go back to petting her leg. She leans into me again, a little bit of her tension leaving with every breath. “It works however the fuck we want to define it. Maybe it just means I like taking care of my little girl.” She shudders hard enough that her hip grinds against my pussy. “Oh, someone liked that, didn’t she?”
She nods frantically. “Wow, yeah. I did. Can we do that? Try that?”
“We already are,” I say, and then I kiss her so deeply that her head bends and she arches over the arm I have around her back.
She’s beautiful and wrapped tighter than a spring. I drag my teeth down her neck. The tendons there stand in stark relief under her pale skin. At her collarbone, I trade teeth for tongue and follow the curved arch.
“You’re so pretty, little one,” I mutter against her.
She holds my shoulder. Her noises are a series of squeaks and breathy sighs, especially when I push her bra down enough to make a shelf for her tits. I suck the tip of her breast into my mouth and start with only tongue and lips against the tight bead of her nipple. The areola surrounding is nubbly when I circle. I drink deep of her flesh and my reward is more of those welcome sounds.
The whole time, I keep up my gentle touching of her thighs. I want her used to me and on edge at the same time. “You squirm as if it’s your first time.”
“I’ll try to stop,” she says on panting breaths.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I growl. “I like it.”
That earns me a sound perilously close to a mewl. I laugh, but I’m sure it sounds like I’m strangling at the same time, because I practically am. I can’t resist anymore. I delve between her legs and stroke the front of her panties.
She parts her legs for me. Her knees separate, and her foot scrabbles for purchase in the pillowy duvet. She’s panting, and I can see why when the thin cotton instantly soaks through with her wetness.
“Good girl,” I tell her. “You’ve been so patient, and you made me feel so good.”
“I’m so glad.”
Her bottom lip is wet. I take it in a kiss. My mouth owns her just as deeply as can be. I lick her lip into my mouth and suckle. She is so fucking pliable and receptive. I kiss her deeper, then deeper still, pressing into her mouth.
Her fingers dig and release on my shoulder. She’s like a kitten who’s found something soft to hold on to. I don’t feel very damn soft though. Not with how hot and ready her pussy is.
I skim over her flat stomach and push under her panties. I could take them off, but for some reason I don’t want to. Maybe because it feels filthier to be delving inside them like this, as if she’s giving up something that maybe she doesn’t want to. Like I’m taking. Combined with her pushed-down bra and the way her straps dangle around her shoulders, she looks completely demolished.
I’ve done this to her. And I’m going to do more.
I pet her outer lips, then stroke inside. Wetness makes everything slip and slide, but I manage to catch hold of her inner lips and pinch them together. She gasps, her eyes going wide.
“More of that, please,” she says. Her voice is raspy and raw. “I like that.”
“Like this?” I experiment with how tight I pinch, how fast, the pulsing between. “Which do you like best?”
“All of it. Oh, all of it.” She’s lifting her hips into everything I do.
“Then maybe I should play with your pretty little clit instead.”
“Okay,” she squeaks.
I hide my laugh because I don’t think she’d take it in the spirit intended right now. She’s so cute I could die of it. Instead I stroke the tight bit of flesh at the top of her pussy and pour my determination into it. She’s writhing practically, and I love it.
She chants my name as she gets closer and closer to the edge. I lick and bite her neck. A smattering of freckles dot the landscape of her upper chest. I try to catch each one with my teeth. She’s quaking. I rub her just a little bit harder.
It’s enough. She cracks open into a cry. Her head thrown back, every muscle she has pulls tight. The curve of her stomach becomes a stiff board. Her thighs clench hard around my hand as if she’s afraid I’ll pull away.
I wouldn’t dream of it. I ride out her orgasm with pleasure, making my touches softer and gentler with every twitch of her hips. I’m telling her how perfect she is, the sweetness of her skin, the way she’s made of clouds and fucking moonbeams. The words spill from my mouth and across her body, and I hope she catches each one. I hope she soaks them up, because I hardly know what I’m saying and if I can ever repeat them.
She comes down slowly, but not even as slowly as I’d like. I want her to ride this train as long as she possibly can. But it’s only minutes before her head rests against my shoulder. She’s warm, and the places where our skin meets are sticky with heat and sweat. I push her hair back from her face.
“How are you?”
“Good,” she says in a drowsy tone.
“Here, let’s tuck you in.” I shuffle us around until she’s lying flat on her bed.
She blinks slowly, and her lashes barely come up again. Her lids are sleepy and heavy. “But I’m not tired.” She rubs her eyes with the side of her hand.
“I can see that.” I hide my grin and line myself up beside her. I throw a leg over both of hers. “Just be still for a little while.”
“Kay.” Her breathing is shallow and rapid, but she seems to be quickly dropping off into sleep anyways. I unsnap her bra and ease it down from its awkward position so it won’t hurt her. She works with me but doesn’t open her eyes. Then she shifts onto her side, catching my hand as she goes and hooking my arm around her waist.
I’m pulled into spooning her. Not that I try very hard to get away. She’s made of softness. I let her curls cover my face. She smells like cotton candy and something warm that’s got to be exclusively her. I breathe deep. Let the moment spill into the quiet of contentment. Cars occasionally drive by outside, but they’re far enough away that they only add to the hum of the city. In the next room, her cat meows. I wonder if it’ll come out and visit.
Our breathing nearly echoes in the empty, unlived in space that surrounds us. This is the world that Tansy is floating in. A great gray between. I want to give her more than this, and I want to run away at the same time. This is a life I don’t belong in. This is a room that’s too big and grand, and this isn’t how a one-bedroom crash pad is supposed to look. It’s decorated with style and grace. The Lowenstein family took Tansy in and offered her an apartment that thousands of Angelenos would kill for. I wonder if she even realizes the level of privilege involved. When I was twenty-one, I left a girlfriend on two days’ notice. I ended up sleeping on the floor of a friend’s apartment, wrapped in a sleeping bag with a broken zipper for three and a half weeks.
Tansy ended up in an apartment with a bathroom decorated like a spa. We’re worlds apart, and I should leave her here in this pretty world she gets.
But I keep holding her. I don’t go away.
I don’t know if I can. Not now, at least.
Not this moment. Not with the dreams I can taste on the tip of my tongue.