Sheltered(52)
“Will you take off your clothes first?”
She felt him tense a little. As though he hadn’t quite expected her to take the ball and run with it. Maybe he’d just offered because he’d thought she was near to sleep, lax and unmotivated to answer.
But it was too late now.
“Are you sure you want this?”
She rubbed herself back against him in answer. Felt the unbearable hardness of his cock right between the cheeks of her ass again, only this time…this time she could feel her own wetness there too. She’d made an awful mess, and even better—he seemed to know it.
“God you get wet. I can almost feel you through my jeans.”
“Imagine how good it would be to get that wetness on your cock.”
He sucked in a breath so quickly she was surprised he managed to get words out, after.
“Jesus—don’t say that. Don’t talk like that. Just…gimme a second, okay?”
The old reflex kicked in, of course.
“Sorry.”
“And no sorrys, either. I like it when you talk like that, but I need a moment to think.”
“About what?”
“About whether I want this because my dick’s hard, or because you’re asking me.”
“Can’t it be both?”
He made the oddest little chuffing sound, before squeezing her suddenly close.
“I guess so.”
“It’s okay for you to want me like that. I want you.”
“I know.”
“So what are you waiting for?”
He made another sound—louder this time, and more like a laugh.
“Honestly? I don’t even know if I’ve got any condoms.”
She had to admit, that pulled her up short. The other stuff—his resistance, his need to be good about things—was expected, but this thing…no, she hadn’t thought of that at all. She’d imagined his backpack full of Trojans. She’d thought of other girls he might have had, without even knowing she’d started thinking about things like that.
Surely such a consummate ladies’ man had to have condoms.
“Really? But what do you usually do when you have a girl over?”
“I don’t usually have girls over.”
This time she was pulled up so short she could have slipped between an ant’s legs.
“Well…where do you…you know…” She tried in vain to think of the right phrase. “Go with them?”
“Go with them? Like what? Like slipping into a bathroom to do my business with some chick?”
“No, no, I just—”
“First you think I’m cheating, now you think I’m a man-whore.”
The giggle felt wildly inappropriate, but it burst out of her anyway.
“Man-whore. Is that even a thing? I don’t think you’re that, I swear. But I’m not an idiot, Van. I mean, I know that you’ve had sex with other girls.”
“Not these hordes you seem to be imagining.” She felt him hesitate, before plunging on. “I told you. I find it hard to…open up to people.”
“And you need that, to have sex with a girl?”
“How come you know so much and so little at the same time? Yeah, most guys don’t give a shit. But I just… I can’t just fuck anybody. I need more than that. It’s too much for me to let go with a total stranger.”
Suddenly, all that restraint of his gained a new and interesting shade. It wasn’t just about her innocence. It was about his own stuff too.
“Can you let go with me?”
A long, long silence followed. One in which the now subtle rock of his hips became something firmer, and more obvious.
“Yes,” he said, finally, as that rocking increased its speed. “But I want you to be sure. You can’t grow back your virginity, you know.”
“If I wait any longer I think my virginity’s going to come back with reinforcements. Just make love to me, Van. I want to feel you.”
This time, he relented. She knew it, before he’d even taken any of the steps she expected, like turning her onto her back. Or maybe kissing her a little, to warm things up. He simply slid off the bed behind her, and she turned just in time to see him pulling his jersey over his head.
It was a sight to behold. Far better than the glimpses she’d gotten on the night they’d come back. He was hairier than she’d thought—all the way up to his throat and quite fair, really, considering the hair on his head.
But then she remembered it was dyed, and started thinking about a whole host of other things. Was that his natural color there? Almost tawny, she thought, but somehow couldn’t imagine him like that.
The black suited him. It suited his eyes, his eyelashes, the softness of his mouth. It made a good contrast, and that contrast didn’t stop with his face. It extended down over his body too. Everything so solid and strong there, but somehow softly curved at the same time.