Until Series(286)

“You have the most beautiful tits.”

His words cause a moan to climb up my throat as his lips lock around one nipple, his free hand pulling on the other one. My head drops forward to watch him. His hand travels down my back and into my jeans, grabbing my ass and pressing me harder into him, causing me to whimper again.

“Please,” I moan, tossing my head back.

He rolls us over so I’m under him. His hand moves to the front of my jeans. The sound of my zipper being lowered fills my ears. Then his fingers press into me, causing me to lift my head and latch on to his bottom lip with my teeth.

“You’re so wet—so fucking wet. I can’t wait to sink into your tight little pussy and have you dripping around me, gripping me tight while I fuck you hard.” This is something else I’ve learned about myself—the dirtier he talks, the hotter I get. “I want you to come for me, Sophie. I want to feel your tight, hot little pussy pull my fingers deep inside of you.”

“Nico! Oh…God…” I whimper, my fingers digging into his arm.

“Come for me, sweet girl,” his lips whisper across my ear.

My hips lift higher; my heels dig into the bed as I shatter, my orgasm taking me into another world before sending me back to earth. When I come back to myself, I’m wrapped tight in his arms with my head pressed into his chest.

“You okay?”

I nod, listening to his heart beat rapidly against my ear. “Are you okay?”

“Never better,” he tells me sincerely.

“But you—” I start to tell him that he hasn’t gotten off. Actually, since he started introducing me to sex, he has never even taken off his pants.

“We will get to that, baby. But for now, it’s about you.”

“I want to make you feel good too,” I tell him, burying my face into his chest.

“Watching you get off makes me feel good,” he says while stroking my hair.

“I want to touch you. You never let me touch you,” I whine.

“You will one day, but right now, I need to keep my boy away from you. It’s important I take my time with you. I want you to be ready when we finally go there. If you touch me, all my good intensions will go out the window,” he explains.

“Fine,” I pout. I am happy he is giving me time to get used to foreplay and building up to sex, but I still want to touch him like he touches me.

“You’re adorable when you pout.” He smiles before kissing me. “So how was your day? Did you go to your meeting?” he asks, running his hand along my back.

“Yes.” I hold my breath.

He doesn’t know the kind of meetings I am going to. I never told him what happened to me; I don’t want him to think I’m tainted or something, even though I know it’s stupid to feel that way. I just told him that I’m going to meetings to help with the loss of my mom. I feel bad about lying, but I don’t know how to tell him what the meetings are really for.

I started going to meetings two months ago, gathering all the information that first day he called me his girlfriend, and have gone once a week since then. I like having a group of women to talk to who understand what I’m feeling, even though I kind of feel like an imposter sitting with them. The things most of them have been through make me feel weak.

“You know, if you ever want to talk to me about how you’re dealing with the loss of your mom, I’m here for you.” He hugs me closer, the ball of guilt in my stomach getting heavier by the second.

“I know. Thank you,” I choke out. “I’m so sleepy,” I whisper, wanting to get away from talking. “I’m gonna head home.”

“Stay with me.” He hugs me again, making me feel sick. “You don’t work at the school tomorrow. We can sleep in.”

I want that. I want to sleep next to him, to have him hold me and make me feel better, but I just can’t. “I think I should go home,” I repeat more softly this time.

“All right, sweet Sophie,” he whispers, making me feel worse. He always does exactly what I want; he never pushes me.

“Thank you.”

I get off the bed and put on my bra and shirt before watching him pull his shirt back over his head. He follows me out into the living room, grabbing his keys. He always follows me home when I’m over here late. He walks me into my house to check everything out and then kisses me before leaving for the night, telling me to lock up after him while reminding me to set the alarm.

“I really wish you would stay,” he says gently.

“I just need time,” I tell him. Seeing the look on his face has me wanting to kick my own ass, but I don’t know what to do; I feel stuck.