What a rare breed indeed. I can’t imagine any other nineteen year old guy bearing his soul this way. How can he be so sure? Then again, I already know Declan is the only man I ever want to touch me for the rest of my life. Maybe this is what he’s been waiting for all these celibate years—the connection that the two of us can’t deny even if we wanted to.
“Declan, I love you too, baby.” I remove one of his hands from my face, kissing it tenderly, but my intentions are all but tender at the moment. “Now make love to me because I can’t wait another second for you to be inside of me.”
I expect him to be all thumbs, nervous and tense. But Declan’s got this covered; he doesn’t need any guidance from me. From the way his lips trace tiny, invigorating pecks from my shoulder to my collar bone, to the way his ample hands graze the waistline of my jeans. When he unbuttons my jeans this time there is a different type of want pooling within my depths. Knowing it will be fulfilled makes me needier than ever.
My hands crave his butter-silk skin so I lift the hem of his t-shirt, slithering my hands underneath, caressing the ridges of his sculpted abdomen. He does me the favor of removing it completely, tossing it to the side...giving me only seconds to ogle over his perfect body.
He lowers himself back on to me, crushing a denim-covered erection and his smooth bare chest on to my tingling, needy body. His kiss deepens, and when he breaks his hands and his lips free from my face, his eyes are dark with desperate longing and his hands travel to the collar of my blouse. Again, I’m surprised by his patience, because I could swear he’s ready to rip the shirt open. Instead, his skillful hands make an art form out of undoing each and every button.
My eyes never leave his face. I need to see his reaction. I want to know what he’s feeling. Is this everything he’s been waiting for? All he’s imagined it would be? He must feel the weight of my stare because after taking in the sight of my pale pink bra, his eyes meet mine and I can see how happy he is. This is not just an I’m-getting-laid happy. This is an I’ve-waited-my-whole-life-for-you happy. I know because I’m pretty sure I have the same exact look on my face.
“God, you’re beautiful, Mia.” His voice is so sexy. I’ve never heard it this way. The hoarse, raspy declaration is the hugest turn on ever.
“You’re not too bad yourself.” I don’t want to taint this with corny phrases we think we’re supposed to say, so I leave it at that and pull him closer again, allowing my tongue to do all the talking. I hope he understands what it’s saying right now.
His hands are hooked into my belt loops now, shimmying my pants down my legs effortlessly. Yup, he understands. The jeans join his t-shirt on the floor, and now, besides our undergarments, the only item keeping us from becoming one is his pants
I contemplate letting him remove them at his own accord, giving him a chance to make sure this is definitely what he wants, but damn it if I can take a second longer of the suspense. “Allow me?”
“Mmmhhmmm,” he groans.
I undo his button fly and inch his pants past the generous bulge confined by his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. He pulls them down the rest of the way and when his body caresses mine—the first time our skin has ever been melded this way—I let out a whimpering moan and inhale a deep breath.
My hands reach into his underwear, gripping his muscular behind and pulling him closer. The friction is positively divine. My thighs accommodate him as his knee nudges them apart slowly and without hesitation I slide the Calvins off and tighten my grip around his solid flesh. He sucks in a long breath and takes this as his cue to rid me of my own panties. The lace tickles my legs as he carefully removes them, but instead of giggling, I moan as the friction reminds me of the reason I’m being stripped so delicately.
He lingers over me, his jaw clenched, everything about his naked body against mine taut, rigid and ready. Before I give up all sense of sanity, I whisper in his ear, “The condom.”
He stretches over me, opening my drawer and producing a shiny foil packet. Hello there, Mr. Trojan. Your time has finally come. He rips it open with his teeth, making me laugh at his eagerness, and then rolls the latex down over himself.
This is it! In this one tender moment, before he enters me, I look into his eyes, so grateful that we waited and didn’t jump into this the night he sang about wanting me. I wanted him then too, but this? This want, fueled by love, is so much more than just sex.
He guides himself inside me with his hand. He isn’t trembling; he knows what he’s doing. He breaches me, inching in slowly at first and when he is finally submerged we let out matching groans. “Oh my God, Mia. I never knew it could feel this good.”