13 #2
That night in bed, he was emboldened. He wanted to kiss more and made it known by brushing his bare feet against mine, slowly working his way up my calves in calculated strokes. He didn’t speak a word, and neither did I. The silence facilitated all, making us feel blanketed and understood.
The caress of his feet sent shivers up my thighs, straight into my groin. He was seducing me. I lay facing away from him, watching the walls, but eventually he dragged me backwards, over to his side of the bed, and buried his face in my hair.
"I wanna kiss you..." he nuzzled my nape. "Again and again and again…" he murmured, dropping feathery pecks onto my neck.
"Why?" I quavered.
"Because you're you." His tone admonished me for even questioning.
"You're mad gorgeous, Rafe. It’s fucking weird, and I can't take it anymore. I’ve never met a bloke as gorgeous as you are.
I've wanted to tell you for so long. I’ve wanted you longer than I can remember.
All of you. You're so fuckin’ soft and warm.
" He squeezed my belly from behind and I winced.
"I just wanna kiss you...all over. Put my tongue everywhere. Make you feel good. Please..."
The heat of his breath on the back of my neck, the returning pressure of his lips—it all felt so good my eyes rolled into the back of my skull. I was glad he couldn't see them.
"That okay?" he insisted.
I nodded.
With my surrender, he pulled me around and set his mouth to mine for the second time that night.
Fully, hungrily. With the first brush of his tongue, I lost it, whimpering unchecked.
Everything shifted. I no longer felt those sensations whirling around my belly.
They were elsewhere now. Lower and deeper and more persistent.
The sort of things I’d only experienced with females, and I was usually the one in control.
The one doing the taunting. Now the tables had turned, and I was squirming beneath the sheets at his mercy, intertwining our legs, desperate for more.
I was consumed by the taste and smell of him.
Totally bizarre. Totally male. Totally him.
His hair smelled sweet. His tongue was slippery and silky.
I couldn't imagine him tasting any differently.
I relished the heat of his mouth, the hint of toothpaste.
He moaned down my throat, deepening the kiss and letting his tongue probe. Anxious for me to return his zeal.
Everything he did was so erotic that I lost my composure, shuddering at the flick of his tongue as it tortured mine.
He broke the kiss and we gasped—lips trembling.
There were no words. None adequate. I just lay there watching the ceiling, gulping lungfuls of Rome-infused air.
Pulsating between my thighs like a virgin.
There was a tingling, a hardening in my briefs.
I was extremely embarrassed for him to see me erect, so I snaked a hand beneath the sheet to hide it.
Turned my face aside, longing for sleep.
I was torn over why I was enjoying the things happening to my body, particularly when a male elicited them.
I wanted to feel disturbed but couldn't. Then I was disturbed by the fact that I wasn't disturbed. Was this something I’d wanted all along?
Had I always been into guys? What the fuck were we even doing?
This was Roman, not my girlfriend. Not any of the other nondescript females I'd met since becoming famous.
It was my bandmate, my brother. A dude. And since when was I so giddy and submissive?
I touched a few fingertips to my lips and teared up in frustration.
He moved around behind me, but I was too on edge to communicate.
I was sure he was dozing by now. None of this stuff affected him the way it affected me.
He could do and forget. Come morning, he'd regret nothing because this shit didn't matter to him. I could do but could not forget. I fixated over every tiny thing, reliving the moments again and again and again, even if they’d just transpired.
Even if he was still lying there beside me.
Suddenly he crawled across me, forcing me to make room for him on my side of the bed. I scooted backwards to where he’d been laying, quaking and upset. I was in nothing but my briefs. It was freezing now that he’d stopped touching me.
"Hey," he whispered, sensing I wasn't ok.
"Hey…" I croaked, looking him in the eye. His face was lit by the milky rays that suffused the room. We’d left the drapes open since he didn't like to sleep in total darkness.
"You okay?" he asked, stroking tendrils from my forehead. It was so tender I felt unworthy. I only shrugged.
"You cold?"
I nodded.
Right away he took the T-shirt off his back and helped me put it on.
"Better?" I nodded again.