Chapter V
V
Lucy
I walk us back in the direction of campus, the streets of the East Village humming with people hustling everywhere and nowhere. I wonder if any of them are having a night like mine.
“Where exactly are you taking me?” James asks, leaning toward me. Maybe he’s right about New York not being the right fit for him: He’s too hulking for the sidewalks.
“You’ll see.”
“You’re not planning to rob and kill me, right? I have location sharing on.”
“Well, there goes that plan.”
We share a mischievous grin, and I feel the pad of his middle finger slide down the inside of my palm. My body pulses as his fingers intertwine with mine. “Is this OK?” he asks, meeting my eye.
“Your hands are even nicer than your feet.”
He laughs. I caught him by surprise with that one. “And here I thought we weren’t going to talk kinks tonight.”
We arrive at a campus building with just a few safety lights on, and I swipe us inside with my student ID. James narrows his eyes, trying to figure out where we’re going, but he doesn’t ask questions. He lets me have my surprise.
The hallway off the main entrance is dark and empty, lined with large, framed pieces of contemporary art.
At the end of the hall is a set of double doors.
I get out a key I stuffed in my wallet a few nights ago, the one my adjunct art professor friend gave me to lock up with when he got too drunk at his own exhibit and had to leave early.
He probably didn’t intend for me to use it for this, but he also didn’t drop by my place yesterday to get the key back like he promised he would, so here I am.
James widens his eyes at me as I unlock the door, and I have to grin at his confusion. “Trust me,” I tell him, and we step inside. As I let the doors close behind us, we’re shrouded in darkness, odd shapes stretching through the shadows all around.
Then I find the panel of light switches and flip them on one by one.
The three-story-tall room comes to life in a golden haze.
A massive tree made of crepe paper and copper-wire lights looms over us, its branches reaching out toward countless smaller art projects.
They’re all calling out to be walked through or played with or even sat on.
All glowing with vibrant neon, warm filaments, or carefully sculpted strings of light.
Plugs and cords weave in intricate patterns, becoming part of the display.
Each piece feels somehow both mechanical and ethereal, thoughtfully constructed and impossible to dissect.
I was blown away by the space when I first saw it a few days ago, but being here alone with James is another feeling entirely. Like this whole night, it feels magical.
I turn back toward him, hoping he sees it the same way I do, and his mouth hangs open as he gapes about.
When his eyes land on mine, he strides over to me, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me, pressing his body to mine with an urgency that makes my knees go weak.
His tongue finds mine and I melt into him.
I reach for his waist just as he pulls away, his hands still on my face. I’m almost in a stupor, furious he stole his lips away so soon. I manage to pull my eyes open, and I find that he’s staring back at me, unblinking. “And I took you to a fucking bowling alley,” he jokes.
We both laugh. Then, he takes my hand and leads me deeper into the room.
Even though we’re the only ones here, we keep our voices low in reverence. He asks so many questions about the artists and how they created their pieces. I tell him what little I know—the exhibit is for an MFA studio on light and surrealism—and we read the various plaques, taking our time.
As we work our way through the exhibition, his hand strays to my lower back, then up to my shoulder blades underneath my hair.
When we stand inside a swirl of candle-shaped bulbs that rotate slowly around us, he moves behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He rests his chin on my shoulder, and I can feel the heat of him all across the skin of my back.
His heart seems to beat in time with mine—or maybe that’s just my heart beating doubly hard, more open and raw than it has been in years.
At the far end of the exhibit, James leads us into a little room that’s sectioned off from the rest of the space.
Somehow, I missed this before. It’s a round, black tent with projectors hidden in three corners; dark pillows cover the floor, and at least a hundred mirrors hang all over the fabric walls, reflecting starlight in every direction.
James lies down and raises an arm for me to lie next to him.
As we stretch out, looking up at all the mirrors, it feels like we’re floating through space.
It’s such a beautiful, all-encompassing sensation that I find myself wiping away a tear before I even realize I’m crying.
James lifts himself up onto an elbow and looks down at me. He runs a thumb slowly over my cheek. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
A pulse of excitement courses through my body, and I have to break eye contact, fixing my gaze on his chin. “I’m not normally like this. There’s just something about tonight.”
A grin comes to his lips. “I know what you mean.”
He gently tilts my face up, and our eyes lock again. I can’t help myself—I wrap a hand behind his neck and bring his lips to mine.
James
As we kiss, Lucy pulls at the hem of my shirt, urging it off me, and I’m quick to tug it over my head.
Her hands press on my chest, and she throws a leg over my hip.
I sink a hand into her thigh, moving it steadily up under her dress.
She pulls her body back just enough to make space for me to bring my hand to her stomach.
“Wait.” I slide my palm back to her hip and extricate my lips from hers. It’s the last thing I want to do, but this is escalating so fast. I need to make sure we’re on the same page.
“What is it?” Her tone is impatient, but her eyes soften when they reach mine. She’s clearly as caught up in this moment as I am.
“I just think we should take a breath.”
“For what?”
I didn’t expect her to question that, but I love how brazen she is. “Well, two things. First, how sure are we that there aren’t security cameras in here?”
Lucy chuckles. “Sure enough.”
She immediately begins kissing me again, and I talk against her mouth. “So . . . like eighty percent?”
“If that’s good enough for you,” she teases. I pull my lips away, and she gives me a sexy little pout. It’s hard to resist.
“Second.” I gently squeeze her hip. “Should we talk about where this is going?”
Lucy raises an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure we already covered that. In detail.”
“I mean for the rest of the summer. Or is this just tonight?” I can tell she has a witty comeback armed and ready, so I cut in: “Because I’d like to keep hanging out. Obviously it would be casual, no expectations. But I want to see more of you.”
Lucy holds back a grin, but she seems undecided. “Oh, yeah?”
I muster all the confidence I have. “I like you. I don’t want just tonight.” I angle my face into her neck and kiss down her throat. “But if tonight is all I can have, I’ll take everything I can get.”
My lips travel lower, grazing the top of her left breast, and now Lucy is the one to pull away. “Then I have a question for you.” Her eyes gleam. “Do you have a condom?”
Lucy
As our lips find each other again, my mind fixates on his hand on my hip, that hand that won’t stop teasing me.
I slide my body back again, urging his fingers between my legs.
But he doesn’t give me what I want, and the smile I feel against my mouth tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Instead, he brings his hand under my dress, running his fingertips over my bra, delicately touching my breasts just above the line of the cups.
Then he draws his fingers around to my back and, in one deft move, unhooks the strap.
He whisks me on top of him, sitting us both upright in the same motion. It makes my heart race. His hands cradle the sides of my neck as his tongue moves against mine. Then his fingertips slide down my shoulders, take hold of my dress, and slowly pull it and my unclasped bra down to my ribcage.
I nearly gasp at the thrill of being exposed by him.
My nipples were already hard, but when his lips drag across my breast while he traces his fingertips over my other nipple, my whole body shakes.
He hasn’t even touched between my legs, but the pleasure courses through me.
When I don’t think I can stand the tease any longer, I arch toward him.
He responds by taking my whole nipple into his mouth and sinking his teeth ever so slightly into my flesh. This time, I can’t hold in my gasp.
He pauses and makes direct eye contact, and I nod, breathless.
His lips return to my nipple, and one hand cups my breast while his other hand finds my clit under the thin fabric of my underwear.
I writhe against his fingertips and begin to climax almost immediately, grabbing him by the wrist to demand more, more.
I see stars—though my eyes are shut tight—and I don’t let him stop until I’m completely spent.
Then I release his hand from my grasp—and the involuntary squeeze of my thighs—and collapse forward onto his shoulder, panting.
“Well,” James says, a little breathless himself. “That was easy.”
We both laugh. I feel lightheaded and the most at ease I’ve been all night, fully aware that his fingers are still pressed firmly against me, like if he let go, I might tumble over.
“I don’t usually come that fast,” I murmur into the curve of his neck.
“But very little about this night has been usual.”
James responds with a wry laugh. “We’re just getting started.”
James
Lucy’s hair cascades all around me as she finishes catching her breath. My jeans have become my enemy—far too restrictive—and I’m eager to be rid of them. “So,” she whispers from my shoulder, “where’s that condom?”
She slinks off me, sliding her dress down her legs before settling back onto the cushions. Seeing her in nothing but her cotton underwear laid out on those pillows—there’s something so free about it. About her. It’s an image I want to hold on to.
I grab the condom from my wallet, pulling my jeans and boxers off and throwing them aside. Lucy strokes my shoulder, tracing lines across bone and muscle, as I roll the condom into place. I feel her eyes on me, scanning my face and body with anticipation. “Touch me again,” she demands.
Lucy
James turns his body to mine and kisses me hard, and I can feel the full length of him on my thigh.
Without taking his lips from mine, he pulls my underwear down, and I kick them away.
I wrap a hand around him and slowly stroke, satisfied when he responds with a deep, low moan that sounds like it’s been waiting to be unleashed all night.
He moves his hand between us, pressing firmly on my clit with his thumb, and slips two fingers inside of me.
We both take a sharp breath as he curls his fingers up to my G-spot.
The hum in my body is immediate, and I completely forget the concept of reciprocity.
My executive function is gone as my fingertips dig into his shoulders, clinging tight.
I can’t even kiss him anymore. I throw my head back, writhing and whimpering under his touch.
When I can’t take it any longer, I slap gently at his hand, and he drags his fingers up my stomach and breasts as I struggle once again to catch my breath. I feel his fingertips and eyes all over me, taking me in.
“Tell me when you’re ready.” His voice is a warm, low growl. When my eyes open to meet his, I’m still not completely recovered. My body is sated but continues to pulse with waves of excitement. “Because I’m dying to fuck you.”
At those words, my skin is fully aflame again.
“Fuck me,” I command, and the corners of his mouth turn up as he climbs onto his knees, pulling my legs wide around his. I watch his face, biting my lower lip as I wait for him to slide inside of me.
But he doesn’t, not yet. Instead, he brings his thumb to my pulsing clit, and I feel it from my clenched toes to my outstretched fingers.
With no headboard to grab on to, I grip the edge of the pillow under my head, squirming so much that he holds my body stable by pressing his free hand between my breasts.
He looks to me to make sure I’m still with him, that this is what I want, and I manage a firm nod.
Then he plunges into me, and the sensation forces my eyes closed, my focus fully within.
He thrusts, slow and deep, and I catch flashes of flexed pecs, the sheen of perspiration building at his collarbone and hairline.
I dig my fingernails into his flesh, feel the heat of him all around me.
He brings his thumb to his mouth and wets it, returns to circle my clit, and rocks into me deeper.
The pleasure and the pressure are so intense that my whole body arches into him and my eyes burst open.
It may be the most powerful orgasm of my life.
I fix my gaze on his knotted brow as he lets out a hoarse grunt and falls forward onto me.
For several minutes, neither of us moves. Neither of us talks. We simply lie still, sweat slicked in each other’s grasp, finding our way back to reality.
I let out a laugh.
He lifts his head from my chest and meets my eye with a quirked eyebrow. “What?”
“Just . . . after that, I definitely want to see you again.”
James drops his forehead onto my chest, and I can feel his chuckle reverberate through my body.