Being Kalli(18)

He grabs my waist and pulls me to him at one end of the piano. The thin bit of my lace G mashes to his sweater, hard against his tensed abs. He realigns his hands so his forearms hold up my thighs and ass and he has me at the small of my back. I wrap my legs around his back, my ankles crossing and feet dangling just below his ass.

“Kall Bell.”

“Yes, Nate?”

I know there’s sarcasm in my voice, but in such an intimate moment, I can’t possibly act serious. The other option will definitely hint I’m crossing the line as Scout predicted, and I don’t want that.

“You are impossibly easy yet difficult to photograph, standing way back there.”

“True, this,” I say. I squeeze him tighter between my thighs and realise it’s taken an instant for them to dampen and for a hot flush to warm me up. “Oh, first thing.”

I grab the end of his sweater and pull it up. I can’t think of anything more embarrassing for a guy who can’t talk about his cock in front of me than walking around with my wetness on him. It’s not a matter of if I soak him, but when. In the end, I’m the one who’s shocked into silence.

I know, me.

Silenced.

Nate has a pretty lean body but Lord Almighty he has some abs, sculpted from another world. I did mean to lift it, just to save him embarrassment, but now I’m the one blushing so bad my cheeks are about to light afire. Mindlessly, I rake his belly with my nails and discover he has an eight pack. Yup, I trace his skin so low, I see his V-line. It’s an achingly sexy sight that makes my body quiver for him.

He, too, shudders under my nails. His breath is muffled through only flared nostrils. His lips are pressed together.

I steal a sexy glance and say, “I’m soaked. Didn’t want to have you walking around with my mark on you.”

“Fuck, Kall.”

“So you won’t cry click, click then?”

He gets me. My stupid question doesn’t even get an answer. As if there were a choice at this point.

With my fingers looped over his jocks, he leans until there’s no gap between our bodies and kisses between my breasts. He trails his tongue down my belly and it aches so much I turn into an arched animal, body burning with desire. I buck my hips at the same moment as he dips in to lick down my core.

Jesus I’m going to come right now, with him licking my freaking belly.

The next moment he’s holding me wrapped around him and laying me down on the grass, him hovering over. He mashes his lips to mine, exploring my mouth with his soft tongue. He traces my lips, kisses the spot behind my ear, and shoots whispers of kisses down my jaw and neck that send me quivering again.

This.

This is our first proper kiss, no alcohol blinding us, and I’m worried what it’ll mean.

Nate hesitates too, but it’s for different reasons. “Um I know about your … but this is a bit open, isn’t it?”

“Isn’t it hot, though?” I counter. I let my eyes drift over his shoulder and sweep the surroundings. There is a picnic bench and seats attached under a gazebo on the other side of the swamp, just poking above the hill. A couple are there, but not looking our way. There is also the threat of many more people, but since there’s nothing in this spot that attracts people, that’s all everything is. A threat.

He looks at me like I’m crazy for preferring this to a boxed in, dead-quiet room. For one, the air here is so clear you can breathe all the way to the bottom of your lungs and you won’t smell a hint of suburbia besides the sweet, greeny smell of the grass and flora. I’d hate to be indoors, stuck and claustrophobic.

I catch Nate also checking out our surroundings, biting his lip.

“You don’t feel that thrill?” I prompt.

Something in Nate must snap because he fumbles at my G and holds his two fingers there, covering the spot. His fingers are hot on me, and with half my heat flushed, I cry without thinking, “Do it.”

He shimmies down my G, but doesn’t look at me while he traces my curves and plunges in. Slow rubbing motions, quick finger thrusts, I feel my undoing when he makes a “Come hither” motion inside me. I find myself begging to please stay right there, and faster, and to fucking hurt me.

Yes, he had my spot the entire time. But I was greedy, pretending he needed to try harder.

I push my climax until the pleasure is too much to contain and I moan it out.

I wink at him. He looks at me adoringly, which is confusing because he just stuck one, two fingers in me and fucked me with them. Adoring wasn’t quite the look I had after making him come at the party.

Smug, yes. Thrilled, yes. Hot and horny, yes.

Scout’s words come back to me, Both him and I are not like you. We get real messy when we cross that line. Knowing this now, after I let him see me exposed beyond coffees and chats, I wonder if I just made the biggest mistake of my life. I wonder if this is the beginning of The Mess that unravels everything I’ve needed from Scout and Nate for years.