Thirty-One
Thirty-One
“Fuck you!” Thomas kicks the front tire of his car, and I gasp in fright. He turns on his heel to face me and grabs my wrists, examining them for the third time. My eyes land on his swollen knuckles and I shiver. I take his hands and, when I touch the raw places, I notice a small grimace of pain cross his face.
“You have to stop losing control like this,” I murmur, filled with fear.
“You should be grateful that prick is still breathing,” he answers with a clenched jaw and short, heavy breaths. “Has this happened before?” His eyes are full of concern as he looks at me, lifting my chin with two fingers.
My eyes widen. “No. Absolutely not!” I cover my face with both hands and take a deep breath, trying to stem the tide of agitation. I’m shaken up; I want to leave this place as soon as possible. Hole up under the warm blankets of my soft bed and forget about everything. “Can we—can we get out of here, please?” I half-whisper in a trembling voice.
Thomas looks carefully at me, inspecting every inch of my body, lingering on my wrists and my shoulders. Then he nods. He guides me to the car, opens the door, and with a nod invites me to get in; we fasten our seat belts and go.
He remains silent for the entire ride, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gearshift. He busts all the speed limits and stares grimly at the road while I twist my fingers in my lap. I would like to talk to him. I would like him to reassure me. I would like to know that he is at least thinking about me. I need it, desperately. I need him, but Thomas is closed off in his own world, inaccessible to me. All I can do is curl up, resigned, with my back to him. I squeeze my hands between my crossed legs, in an attempt to stop the trembling in my body. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him reach an arm behind the seat to retrieve a black sweatshirt. He throws it over my legs without looking at me. I catch it and turn slightly toward him.
“Put it on. You’re shaking,” he orders impassively. I’d thank him, except that I can’t figure out why he’s so surly with me. I slip on the sweatshirt and am immediately overwhelmed by the unmistakable scent of vetiver and tobacco. I breathe it in automatically. Thomas looks at me furtively, with the expression of a person who has just caught someone in flagrante delicto. I feel my cheeks heat up. I immediately turn toward the window to keep him from seeing. I tug the sleeves of the sweatshirt over my fingertips and rest my forehead on the glass.
“You can keep it, if you want,” he says.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I want you to have it.”
A shy smile creeps onto my face. “Okay,” I murmur.
Silence falls again between us, the reckless driving subsides a little, and I am finally able to relax a bit. I realize, though, that we are not going to my house; Thomas is headed to campus. I turn to him, confused, brush a strand of hair from my face and ask, “Aren’t you taking me home?” He tilts his face slightly toward me and shakes his head no.
When we arrive, the campus is dark and deserted, illuminated only by a few streetlamps that give off a dim glow. As we’re getting out of the car, the cold night air shocks me from my torpor. My teeth chatter, and I hug myself.
As soon as Thomas notices, he comes around the car to join me. “Can you explain to me how you are always so cold?”
I tilt my head to get a better look at him. “It’s two o’clock in the morning, I’m wearing damp clothes, and my hair is still wet.” Thomas wraps his arm around my shoulders and holds me against himself to warm me up, or maybe to comfort me, I can’t tell. All I know is that I dig my nose into his chest and let myself be enveloped by his warmth.
The suite is empty and pleasantly warm. Thomas tells me that Larry is at a gamer party, so he won’t be coming back anytime soon. Apparently, the only way to get him out of the dorm for the night is to engage him in a game of Dungeons I feel like this has been the longest night of my life. In an instant, I went from resting in Thomas’s arms to weathering Travis’s outburst. I’d never seen him so upset before. When I think about just how much my life has changed in the space of a little more than a month, I don’t recognize myself. All the familiar landmarks from my old life have collapsed, and now, on Thomas’s couch, I also feel transformed. I sigh again and put my hair back in a ponytail. When I move my left arm, I feel another twinge in my shoulder. I decide to take Thomas’s advice and put ice on it.
About ten minutes later, the bathroom door opens, and the living room is hit with a wave of steam. Thomas comes out with one white towel wrapped around his hips while using a smaller one to rub his hair. The prominent veins in his arms stand out even more with the motion. A few droplets of water run down his abs, before disappearing into the edge of the towel. His sculpted body makes me forget about everything else for a few interminable moments.
“Are you ever going to get used to it?” He smirks as he disappears into his room.
“G-get used to what?” I blink and shake my head, trying to banish that image from my mind. I put the bag of ice on the table. The pain has eased up a little.
“To my body.”
I immediately turn red and am very thankful that he’s in the other room. I close my eyes, grab a cushion from the sofa, and bury my face in it, cursing myself.
“You’re so full of yourself, Thomas. I like your tattoos, that’s all…” I stammer out, trying to sound believable.
“Yes, of course. I really like your eyes too,” he answers mockingly from the other room.
I frown. “Are you trying to say that you don’t really like them?” Should I be offended?
“I like your eyes.” He returns to the living room wearing only a low-slung pair of sweatpants. His hair is still damp and tousled. “But I much prefer your ass. Your tits,” he continues, looking me over greedily as he gets a beer from the fridge. “Your legs.” He gestures to them with the bottle, advancing upon me with a sensual stare that lights me up from within. “Your cu—”
My eyes bulge. “Okay, stop! I get it,” I interrupt him, face ablaze, as he laughs under his breath.
He sits down next to me, rests his beer on the low table in front of us and looks at me intently for a few seconds. “You’ve got my whole head fucked up, Ness. All of you.”
My heart leaps in my chest. How can he say something like that so easily when I can barely hold his gaze? I smile at him, in my usual awkward and embarrassed way, sinking my teeth into my lip. He smiles back, but it is a weak, unhappy smile. The kind of smile that hides something. I have the feeling that he is not at peace with himself, like he feels some guilt toward me. I can see in his eyes that he wants to ask how I am and make sure I’m okay, but for some reason, he doesn’t.
Instead, he grabs the remote control and turns on the TV in front of us. He settles deeper into the sofa, resting his crossed legs on the coffee table, folding one arm behind the back of his head and sipping his beer. I take off my shoes and cross my legs, putting a pillow on top of them. Thomas does some channel surfing, and we happen upon a rerun of The Vampire Diaries . My eyes light up instantly. With all the feeling of a little girl on her birthday, I beg him not to change the channel. Thomas rolls his eyes but agrees on the condition that I don’t expect “cuddles or shit like that” from him while we watch. So I then repress the sudden, strong urge to curl up against him.
“This Stefan guy is a pain in the ass prig. He’s pissing me off already,” he announces impatiently after the first two minutes. I laugh out loud.
“Just think, he only gets worse as the seasons go on.”
“Fuck, seriously?”
“Wait, are you telling me you’ve never seen this show?” I look at him in shock.
“What do you think?”
I squint at him. “Have you been living under a rock?”
“I’ve just been living.”
Probably while I was tucked in bed dreaming about Damon Salvatore, he was busy banging some Katherine Pierce type. Throughout the episode, I notice that Thomas keeps giving me these little surreptitious looks. It makes me feel a little uncomfortable knowing that someone is studying my every move, but at the same time, I love that he is the one doing it, so I don’t say anything about it.
We spend the rest of the time commenting on the episode, and Thomas seems gradually more interested. So much so that he almost doesn’t protest when, at the end of the episode, another one begins immediately.
“Are you feeling better, Ness?” He looks at me, and I do likewise.
I smile shyly at him and nod, but he doesn’t seem convinced.
He slides his right arm behind my back, grabs my waist, and, in one fluid motion, pulls me on top of him in a seated position. Instinctively, I put my palms on his bare chest to steady myself. Thomas covers my thighs with his hands, settling me astride his groin. My breathing immediately becomes more intense, and from the smirk on his face, I can tell he’s noticed. Damn. I must seem pathetically predictable to him. My eyes dart this way and that as I desperately try to avoid eye contact with Thomas. Yes, sustaining that kind of fearless, penetrating stare is clearly a rather arduous task.
“You’re still shaken up about what happened, aren’t you?” he asks, stroking my jaw with his thumb as he watches me closely.
“No, I’m fine,” I reassure him. And it’s the truth: I am fine now that I’m here with him.
“I went overboard. I wouldn’t blame you for being scared. The truth is, I’m constantly trying to tamp down all this anger that’s just burning inside me, and when it explodes, it overpowers me and I end up losing control. But I want you to know that I would never do anything to hurt you. You are safe with me.” I know I am. In fact, I’ve never felt more protected in my life.
I frown. “Do you think I am afraid of you? If that was the case, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
He lowers his eyes. “ I saw the way you looked at me…”
“Thomas.” I cup his face with my hands. “I’m not afraid of you. If anything, I’m afraid for you. I understand why you reacted the way you did and I’m grateful you did. But I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me; I could never forgive myself.”
“That won’t stop me from beating his ass if he ever tries it again. In fact, I want to be very clear about one thing: if you think I’ll just sit on my hands and watch the next time some asshole so much as lays a finger on you, you thought wrong.” Arrogant. Possessive. Ruthless. As always.
I frown. I move my hands away from his face and lean back a little to get a better look at him. “You can’t just attack anyone who hangs around me.” I say this more sharply than I meant to, but I want to make sure he gets the message loud and clear.
“Wanna bet?” he answers insolently.
We stare, taking the measure of one another in silence for a few seconds. “You won’t. I’m not your property. You have no claim on me,” I say finally, confidently.
“I don’t need a claim to let some dickhead know you’re off-limits,” he says boldly. I feel my blood begin to boil. What kind of caveman presumption is this? Off-limits? I stare at him with my mouth open, shocked by what he’s said. I even consider making a thing about it, but then think better of it. I have no real desire to argue again; we’ve had more than enough arguments today. We’ll deal with this topic another time because I am positive it will come up again.
I take a deep breath, suppressing the outrage I can feel growing in me. I shake my head and try to dissipate the tension. “Just promise me that the next time you feel like you’re losing control, you’ll count to ten instead.”
“Ten’s too much.”
“Five?”
“Three. And that’s me doing you a favor.” He points a finger at me in a joking manner, but I am too tired to take it gracefully.
“Doing yourself a favor,” I retort seriously.
“No, I’d be doing it for you, because I like to lose control. All that adrenaline pumping in my veins… You can’t buy a feeling like that,” he confesses contentedly.
I look at him, dumbfounded. “And how do you feel about spending the rest of your days in prison? Because that’s where you’re going to end up, sooner or later, if you don’t chill out.” He snorts, like I’m talking nonsense. I’m seriously starting to lose my patience with him. “Does that make you laugh? You really don’t think something like that could happen to you?”
He rubs his forehead in an irritated fashion. “I think you’re getting heated over nothing.”
“Do you even listen to yourself when you talk?” I get up off his lap.
He sighs, rests his elbows on his knees and looks steadily into my eyes. “If you want to know the truth, I don’t actually give a shit about the consequences, all right?” He leans back, spreading his arms across the back of the sofa.
My eyes widen. “No, that is not all right! Do you think your life is a game? Or the lives of the people around you? Don’t you think about them? About the pain you would cause them if the worst happened?” I yell. One way or another, he always manages to turn me into a crazy person.
“This is why I don’t want any ties. I don’t want to be forced to do the right thing for the sake of someone else.” In the face of my discomfited expression, he continues, “Don’t act so surprised. This is me, Vanessa. Learn to accept it, because I’m not going to change, not even for you. You can take it or leave it.”
“You are truly unbelievable, Thomas!” I dig my hands into my hair, exasperated, and turn my back to him.
“Please explain to me: Why are we fighting right now?” he asks, irritated.
I turn back to face him. “We are not fighting! I am fighting you!”
“And what are you doing that for?”
“I don’t know!” I cross my arms and plant myself in front of him, looking sullen.
He looks at me in bewilderment for a few seconds before bursting into laughter as he shakes his head.
“What the hell are you laughing at?” I snap.
“You went on this whole long rant and you don’t even know why?” He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me back to him. “Do you realize how completely insane you are?” he continues, with a smile on his lips that I struggle not to find attractive. I bend my right knee into the sofa, positioning it in between his legs.
“But I do know why. Because you’re selfish. You take a sick pleasure in hurting the people around you. You don’t care about anyone else, you just want to maintain control over everything,” I tell him in my most condescending tone.
“Accurate description, Clark.” Thomas unbends my crossed arms and takes my hands, intertwining his fingers with mine. “But isn’t that what makes me irresistible?”
“No. It’s what makes you sadistic.”
He grabs my thighs, covered by my skirt, and pushes me back down on top of him. “So why are you wasting your time with a sadist like me?” The tone of his voice has changed, it sounds deeper. Rougher. It makes my head spin.
“Guess I’m a masochist,” I murmur.
“Mhm.” He rubs his nose against mine. “A sadist and a masochist: what a winning combination.” He grins.
“Toxic, more like,” I reply in a whisper.
“Tell me something, Ness.” He uses one knuckle to push a strand of hair behind my shoulder, careful not to touch my sore spot. Then he slides his fingers through my hair and clasps a hank of it in his fist. With his other hand, he touches my lips. “When was the last time I kissed this mouth?”
We’re so close that I can feel his breath on me. Beer and tobacco, it’s a taste that sends all my senses into overdrive. A second ago, I was screaming at him, and now I find myself a heartbeat away from his lips, eager to take them for mine again.
“I don’t know,” I choke out, my breath becoming more and more irregular. Thomas moves his hands, rubbing my thighs in slow movements. He works his fingers under the tight fabric of my skirt. He wraps his hands around my buttocks and an electric shock sizzles in my lower abdomen. I lick my dry lips and bite down on them. “It’s been a while…”
“Too long…” He brushes my mouth with his own until my lips open for him, until that slight contact becomes a gentle kiss with a slow, deep rhythm. Feeling his lips on mine once again, I feel a flush of heat spread through my abdomen and a thousand emotions completely obscure my reason. This proximity is kindling an overwhelming desire inside me. I throw my arms around his neck and, as I open my lips to welcome him, his tongue collides with mine, yearning, hot, impatient, as if this part of me has always belonged to him. Our kiss transforms into pure fire.
“You have the most inviting mouth I’ve ever seen.” I feel a throbbing in my panties, and the heated feeling between my legs becomes even more intense. In an attempt to relieve it, I begin rubbing myself against his erection, which is steadily growing larger and larger under his sweatpants. Thomas bites my lip roughly and chases the movements of my hips with short, vigorous thrusts of his own. He’s squeezing my ass so hard that it forces a moan of commingled pain and pleasure from me. I can feel him smiling against my lips, and I realize just how much he enjoys exerting this power over me. Feeling my body yield to him. Making me a slave to all his desires. What surprises me most, though, is that I like it too. This is a side of myself that I am only now discovering, and only with Thomas.
“You’ve been flaunting your ass in front of me for two days now, wrapped up in this skirt…” he says breathlessly. His muscular, tattooed chest is completely exposed. The unruly hair, the burning green eyes, the swollen lips… Beautiful. “And for two days, all I’ve thought about is how to get it off you…”
I press my body harder against his as he continues to suck my lower lip. “So what are you waiting for?”
Thomas pulls away from me, leaving me staggered for a few moments. I find myself giving a little moan at the separation. I want those full lips back on my mouth, I want his warmth again. He touches my cheek, resting his forehead on mine. “You’re dangerous…”
“You’re the dangerous one,” I confess as my eyes and my fingers run along his broad shoulders. They slide over his defined biceps, his sides, his tense abdominal muscles leading down to the elastic of his sweatpants. I feel like I could spend hours upon hours exploring every part of his body with my hands and my mouth and never tire of it but, on the contrary, only crave more and more. Thomas urges me to grind my hips back and forth more rapidly. Shivers break out all over my body.
My breathing is labored with pleasure; I squeeze my eyes closed and tuck my forehead into the crook of his neck. I beg him to speed up, already feeling the heat burn its way through me. Suddenly, I feel the strongest urge to make him feel just as good as he is making me feel. I slip a hand under his sweatpants and am surprised to find that he isn’t wearing underwear. When I look at him, he just gives me that crooked smile that drives me crazy. I lean over him and kiss him again because…well, because I can’t help it. He responds with identical hunger, entwining his tongue with mine. I draw my hand over his erection; it is smooth and hot and, as I grip it, I can feel it getting larger and larger in my hand. Thomas lets out a hoarse groan and lifts his pelvis just a bit, just enough to lower his sweatpants and give me more freedom of movement. I move my hand over his entire length, and I feel him quivering under my fingers. A shy, triumphant smile creeps across my face as I realize he’s just as aroused and completely lost as I am.
“Keep going,” he grunts into my mouth. I wrap both hands around his erection, one at the base and the other around the tip, which is already leaking. I feel it stiffen as soon I begin to move my wrists up and down, coating it with liquid. The sight makes me wet too. Thomas pushes my panties aside and touches me, finally relieving some of the unbearable tension I’ve been feeling ever since he started rubbing himself against me. Then he pushes two fingers inside me and I am breathless. I toss my head back, gripping his hard-on even tighter.
“Fuck, you’re hot.” Thomas pulls his fingers out slowly, before forcefully filling me again almost immediately.
“Oh God…Thomas…” I gasp. “D-don’t stop, please…”
“I won’t stop,” he replies against my lips. “I wanna make you come so hard. Until you pass out.” He steals another greedy, passionate kiss, slipping a hand under my sweatshirt and squeezing my breast. We pleasure one other decadently, his fingers inside me, my hand on him. Moans, breathless and uncontrolled, spill from our mouths. “Christ, you’re flooding my hand.” He smiles smugly.
Oh, I am aware. And embarrassed. Yet, feeling him in my hands and watching him get off thanks to me, with his eyes half-closed, mouth slightly open, cheeks reddened…turns me on so much.
“And you’re flooding mine,” I answer, biting my lip. The gesture makes his member throb. Pleased with the reaction I’ve drawn out of him, I speed up my movements. I notice his abdomen tensing with each stroke.
“Fuck, yeah…like that…” His hoarse voice shakes me down to my bones. He uses his thumb to draw teasing circles around my most sensitive spot and thrusts his index and middle fingers in and out of me until I am delirious. Just a few strokes are enough to pull me over the edge. I contract around his fingers, trembling as I fall victim to an orgasm that Thomas tries to prolong as much as possible. Finally, he follows me with a deep grunt of passion. There is a hot, whitish gush from his tip, and it drips along his shaft and over the back of my hand. We are both hit by uncontrollable spasms. Eyes shut tight, we sink our hands into each other’s bodies, tongues entwined, breath mingling. Then, Thomas pulls his fingers out of me; they are glistening with my pleasure.
He lifts up my sweater, peels aside the bikini top, and rubs my swollen breasts obscenely. He squeezes them firmly and runs his tongue along the curve of them. “I really want to fuck you now, Ness.” He pounces on my mouth, thrusting his tongue inside in a way that feels like being touched with a burning brand. Everything he does, the way he speaks, how he moves, how he looks at me; it makes me feel something I have never felt before. I feel dirty, hungry. It’s a brand-new feeling, but I like it.
He gets off the sofa, picking me up in his arms and walking us both to his room. He closes the door behind him with a kick. He grabs some tissues from his bedside drawer, and we use them to wipe ourselves clean. Then he puts me down on top of the desk, spreads my legs, and settles himself between them, pulling me tight against him. The room, previously silent, immediately fills with the sounds of heavy breathing and hoarse moans. In no time, Thomas has me out of my shirt and bikini top, throwing both of them to the floor. At the sight of my naked breasts, he emits a moan of appreciation. He stares at them before lowering his head and closing his hungry mouth over one nipple, sucking it and pulling it delicately with his teeth. I arch my back and push myself into him. He lavishes the same attention on the other breast, giving me shivers that make my whole body unsteady. He squeezes both my breasts in his cupped hands and goes back to kissing my mouth with the kind of passion that makes me tremble. His kisses are always possessive. The kind that make you a slave to his desires. The kind that impose his will on you.
“I want you naked and under me right now.” His tone is imperious. He rips away my panties with an almost angry gesture, grabs me by the hips, and jerks me around, bending me over the desk. The press of my breasts against the wood gives me goosebumps.
He backs up a few steps and then returns. I turn my head to the side to get a better look at him and I see him tearing an aluminum packet with his teeth before pulling out a condom and slipping it on. “On second thought, I think I’ll fuck you with the skirt on.” The note of perversion in his words heats my skin. He rubs my shoulders, placing gentle kisses along my spine and on my injured shoulder. As soon as I try to get up, though, he holds me down with a hand pressed to the base of my spine.
Then he slips one leg between my thighs and spreads them, pushing his erection into the cleft of my butt. He grips my hair at the nape of my neck and, in a sensual voice, whispers, “Open those legs, Ness. Let me admire you.”
“Thomas…” I moan, embarrassed. I offer some resistance, not because I don’t want it but because I am not used to having sex like this, so shamelessly.
Seeing my hesitation, he tightens his grip on my hair and leans over me, rubbing his erection against me. He brings his mouth to my ear and licks it lasciviously, which only intensifies the sense of dizziness left by the orgasm. “You are everything a man could want to have in his hands, and between his legs.” His tongue traces down my neck and I tremble. “Don’t be embarrassed.” He grips and positions himself against my opening, sliding slowly into my warm, moist folds. He penetrates me only with his tip again and again, taking his time without going further. Then he pulls right out and I find myself moaning through clenched teeth.
“Let go.” His breath is hot and labored against my neck. Then comes another little thrust that leaves me breathless the moment he pulls back. Every fiber of my body longs to have him, to feel and possess him. I moan, squirming underneath him, and I push back against him with my butt. “Good job…” He lifts the hem of the skirt and slowly rubs my backside. “Give in to instinct.” He slaps me on one cheek, making me purse my lips to hold back a moan and, exactly at that moment, he penetrates me with a sharp thrust that makes me arch my back, clench my fists, and scream his name. He is motionless inside me, his hands on my hips, giving me a moment to get used to his size. Then, he pulls out and pushes back in with more force, making me scream once again. His thrusts are so deep and wild that they tear screams of commingled pain and pleasure from me. Without letting go of his grip on my hair, he slides his other hand down my belly to my pubic mound. His fingers move rapidly over my clitoris as he continues to sink inside me so ferociously, dragging me closer and closer to the tipping point.
“Oh God, Thomas… What…what are you doing to me?” I have never experienced such intense, overwhelming pleasure in my entire life.
“I’m pleasuring you until you pass out.” His sweat is mixing with my own, our bodies merging to a soundtrack of gasps and moans. I roll my eyes heavenward, overwhelmed by the devastating sensations. I can no longer control the chain of screams that are dragged from my lips.
I’m breathing erratically, shaking uncontrollably as the pace of his thrusting increases, becoming somehow even more brutal. My heart races, my knees are watery, my head is spinning…
“Don’t come. Not yet.” He pants out the order, as if I could actually control it.
“Thomas…I…I can’t,” I gasp, grinding eagerly against him.
He slows his thrusts until he finally stops altogether. With one movement, he skillfully flips me over, before picking me up and laying me down on the bed. “I want you to watch me make you come. You need to know that I’m the one who’s making you lose control. Only me.” He opens my lips with his tongue and sinks back into me forcefully, pushing the air from my lungs. Stunned, I watch him slide in and out of my body, I pant underneath him as I feel that wave of pleasure overwhelming me again. He stares at me with such intensity that takes my breath away.
He grabs my thigh with one hand and opens my legs up wider, as he continues to move relentlessly inside me. I am drenched in sweat, and all my nerve endings are tingling, overwhelmed with tension, pain, and insane pleasure. I clamp my knees around his hips, place my hands on his shoulders, sink my nails into his flesh, and explode with his name on my lips. He tenses the muscles in his arms and back, presses one hand into the mattress and thrusts himself into me with such unexpected force that I fear he might actually break me. I cry out, vibrating with extreme pleasure, chasing his movements with what little strength I have left, until I feel him stiffen. With his cheek pressed against mine, he gasps as his whole body quakes with his orgasm. My limbs are trembling like jelly, and Thomas, drenched and breathing heavily, collapses on my chest. We remain motionless for a long time, clutching each other, as our shared spasms slowly fade. When he does move, after having gotten his breath back, he does so to brush a few strands of hair from my temples. His face is pearly with sweat, his cheeks are flushed, and his hair falls over his forehead, softening his features. He stares at me confusedly, as if trying to tell me something with only his eyes. I try, but I just can’t understand what he’s thinking.
“Is…is everything okay?” I ask in a small whisper.
He nods half-heartedly, then presses his lips to mine and grins. “You’re still wearing the skirt.”
“Apparently it did its job well,” I joke.
He studies me with wary eyes and pulls away from me to throw the condom into the trash can next to the bed. He looks back at me. “Did you put it on for me? To make me look?”
“I put it on because I felt like it. Or, maybe to attract someone’s attention…” I bite my upper lip, uncertain whether to keep talking or preserve what little dignity I have left.
“Someone?” he presses, suddenly annoyed.
I nod and feel a stab of humiliation in my stomach as I admit this pathetic truth. I am compelled to cover my face with my hands to conceal my shame before saying: “You.” I am motionless for a few seconds, saying nothing, while I imagine him with his usual irresistible asshole smile spread all over his face, ready to mock me mercilessly.
When he gently removes my hands from my face, his surprised look pierces me. “Did you want to get my attention?” he asks in a sweet whisper.
“I wasn’t entirely aware of it,” I babble, trying to underplay it.
“Did you think you had to dress sexy for me to look at you?” He traces the outline of my lips with a finger, and I can feel his renewed erection pressing against my crotch. That skin-to-skin contact makes me shiver. “Don’t get me wrong, you succeeded. I have spent the last two days imagining myself sinking between your thighs, and fucking not only this”—he touches the still heated folds of my vagina with one hand—“but also this.” His hand drifts mischievously to my butt and grasps it firmly, causing me to lift my pelvis slightly. “But you always have my attention. Even when you’re wearing terrible teddy bear pajamas and questionable unicorn-shaped slippers.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to the tip of my nose. It always amazes me the way he can utter the dirtiest stuff and accompany it with affectionate gestures like that.
“Hey, don’t malign my pajamas and slippers, they’re beautiful.” I pat him tenderly on the chest, hoping I’m not blushing too hard. “I have to take a shower,” I add quickly.
“Me too, let’s go.” He starts to get up, but I shake my head. Thomas must have sensed my embarrassment because, for once, he doesn’t say anything. He leans over the crook of my neck and kisses it slowly. I shiver and close my eyes. I cannot get enough of his kisses, his touch. I wonder if it is normal, this addiction that I have to him? And will it only grow stronger and stronger?
“You’ll let me fuck you but you don’t want me to look at you…”
And there it is, the comeback I was hoping to avoid. He raises his head, waiting for an answer that won’t come. I realize that this is silly. That, for the most part, people showering together is normal, especially if you’ve already shared the most intimate part of yourself with someone. But for me it’s not like that. I shrug. “You know I don’t feel comfortable with that idea.”
He snorts. “How many more times do I have to tell you before you get it into your little head?” He bends down and kisses my breast; a shudder moves through my entire body. “You…” he murmurs, continuing to kiss down my belly as my back arches involuntarily. “Are…” He slips further down, spreads my legs, sticks his head between them and blows on my clit. “Perfect.” His tongue caresses me slowly, and I find myself growing hot again, clawing at the sheets as if I hadn’t just come twice and wasn’t still weathering the excruciating and all-consuming sensations of climax. Can my body actually handle a third orgasm in a row? The answer seems to be “yes,” especially when Thomas focuses all his attention on my most sensitive area, giving me a feeling of ecstasy that makes me bend my head back and bite my lip.
“Oh…God,” I gasp.
The movements of his tongue send nearly unbearable shocks through me that quickly bring me to the edge. When my legs start shaking, Thomas grabs me by the thighs and holds me still, continuing to lick me even more intensely.
I writhe underneath him, threading my hands through his hair, pushing his head against my center. With my vision blurred and my heart in my throat, I half-sob, half-scream. I am overwhelmed by waves of sensation at once agonizing and satiating. Thomas keeps up this torture through my last pulse, drawing out this agony that sends me adrift for as long as possible.
While I am still spasming uncontrollably, he crawls on top of me and takes my mouth in a vise-like grip. He smiles, cheeky and yet tremendously sensual. “You have no idea how much I enjoy watching you come on me.” He bites my lip and I rub the back of his neck with weak little movements. I struggle to reply, but I’m too exhausted. My body is still shaking wildly, and I don’t have the strength to move, or to speak, or to think.
“You’ve destroyed me,” is all I can manage, with the hint of a worn-out, yet satisfied smile on my face.
“I could keep fucking you all night. But you need to rest.” He gets up and, with his erection still clearly visible, he pulls his sweatpants back on. “Come on, I’ll take you to the shower.” He lifts me up and I loop my arms around his neck, squeezing myself against him. In front of the tub, he gestures for me to get down and, for a moment, I feel so sapped of strength that I worry I’ll just collapse to the ground. Thomas supports me with an arm around my waist. He helps me get my skirt off, leaving a trail of gentle kisses on both thighs and my pubic mound. After turning on the hot water, he presses his mouth to mine one last time and goes, leaving me with the calm that I need.