Chapter 40 Only for Me
Only for Me
Maisie
I hungrily lift the base of his shirt, and he rips the soaking fabric over his head.
I stop for a moment to appreciate his body.
I’ve seen him shirtless countless times at practice, but here, in this hotel room together—it’s different.
I take my time gazing down his arm, at the angry vein popped around his muscled bicep and snaked down his strong forearm.
My eyes continue to his torso and to the V that descends further.
Swimmer abs are common. But combined with Connor’s height, his smile, his kindness?
Nothing feels common about the attraction bubbling inside me as I look my fill.
His chest rises and falls quickly. When my eyes finally lock back on his, I’m met with an expressive mix of agony and determination. His desire for me is palpable. It invigorates me. I’ve never felt so wanted, and we haven’t done anything more than kiss yet.
His oversized hand reaches out to cup my cheek, thumb brushing against where I would put blush if I were wearing makeup.
“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He takes a step closer, and I fumble back into the wall.
His other hand reaches out to steady me, lingering on my hip. His finger slides under the edge of my suit, tracing delicate patterns that make my skin tingle in the most delicious way. My chest and cheeks grow hot. He never takes his eyes off me as he continues his slow torture.
Beautiful. Did I know? Karsen had called me hot regularly. I’d gotten attention from other boys in the past, but beautiful? It had so many implications other than the body I was born into and had toned through my sport. My heart pumps faster as the idea twirls through my brain.
“Tell me what you want,” he says while resting his forehead against mine. “Tell me what you need, and I swear, Maize, I’ll do it.”
Him. I need him.
I thread my fingers through his thick hair and tug gently, encouraging his lips down to my own.
It’s like a switch is flipped. The next thing I know, my legs are wrapped around him, the same way they were in the pool, but this time his strength is on display.
His tongue meets mine stroke for stroke.
Sounds I’ve never made before escape me.
It feels like a thousand tiny pinpricks flutter along my skin, and when he adjusts so our centers collide through cold, wet fabric, a lightning bolt shoots from my core up to the crown of my head.
I melt into him. Luxuriating in the feeling of being held, cherished, devoured.
“Connor.” His name slips through my lips like smoke rising from a roaring fire.
“Maisie,” he responds, and then glides back into my mouth.
His hands are busy supporting my weight, but mine are roaming anywhere I can get a hold of.
His hair, neck, shoulders, back. Each part is warm and perfect to touch.
Every part of him elevates my desire higher and higher, like being stuck in an elevator going to the hundredth floor.
I’m both nervous and exhilarated to find out what the top level holds.
We’re moving, and the next thing I know, my back is supported by a layer of clouds. Or at least that’s what it feels like strewn across the hotel bed.
“Tell me what you want, Maize. I refuse to mess this up. You mean too much to me. If you wanna keep going, I won’t hesitate.
I want you so bad.” He looks down pointedly, and my eyes follow to see the evidence of his desire.
His arm muscles tense as he leans over me.
Feeling caged in should scare me, but I squirm in anticipation, not fear.
“But if you want to stop, you say the word. I mean it. You don’t owe me anything. Do you understand?”
That phrase halts my wriggling immediately.
Tears prick at my eyes, and his widen in alarm.
It’s the exact opposite of my last interaction with Karsen.
Things had been better with him at the beginning.
What if Connor and I do this now, and then it changes down the road?
If he stops liking me, valuing me, or tires of being patient with me?
No. Connor is not Karsen.
I rise to rest on my elbows so my mouth can trail down the column of his throat. Pausing at his clavicle, I let my tongue swirl in the hollow space. His whole body shudders. I feel powerful, desirable. I want this; I want him.
“I understand,” I say on a breath. “Please, Connor.”
His mouth comes to my neck, and my eyes close, rolling back in pleasure.
He lets some of his weight rest along the length of my body, and I relish the pressure.
I wrap my legs around his middle to pull him closer, and he lets out a guttural groan.
He reaches for the strap of my suit and slowly slides it down my shoulder.
It’s tight, and I’m not sure there is a sexy way to remove it.
“Let me,” I say, and he nods his head slowly in approval. He lifts his weight to make room for me to roll off the bed and stand. He sits up, on high alert. I chance a look down at his tented sweatpants.
“Take those off,” I demand. “You’re soaking the bed.”
He chuckles but does as I say. He leaves his black briefs on, even though they’re wet, too. The bit of covering leaves little to the imagination.
I swallow.
He moves so he’s sitting up, legs dangling over the side of our bed, eyes hungry and body buzzing as he waits.
My gaze still flicking between his burning stare and his body, I finish sliding the strap he had started and allow it to tuck under me fully.
I reach for the next one and fight my wave of uncertainty.
He’s looking at me like he’s never seen anything better, and it’s intoxicating.
Emboldened by his visual encouragement, I slip the entire suit down to my ankles, bending over in the process.
When I stand and step out of it, I’m fully exposed to him.
His eyes can’t decide where to look, bouncing all over my body. I feel naturally inclined toward embarrassment, but something about his reaction keeps it from setting in.
“Can I touch you?” His voice drops to a low rumble.
I shiver. “Please.”
Before I know it, my back is cushioned by the bed again.
This time, he’s braced on one hand, and the other is everywhere—cupping my breasts, gliding down the side of my stomach, reaching into my hair—all while kissing me like the snowstorm outside means we won’t have a tomorrow.
It’s a sensation feast. My open legs bend, feet still on the bed, and he settles between them.
I’m fully revealed to him, a representation of how my heart feels right now. On display. But I trust him.
His kisses begin trailing down my neck and continue to my chest while his free hand simultaneously draws lower and lower.
He gently slides a finger to where I need him most, and I gasp.
His smile turns wicked. It’s an expression I’ve never seen on his handsome face, but in the heat of this moment, it sends its own wave of pleasure down my spine.
He teases me with achingly slow circles. Practically not touching me at all. The contrast of him taking my entire nipple into his mouth is confusing. I pant, but it’s not enough.
“I need more,” I say. Because I know I can tell him anything.
“Good girl, telling me what you need.”
His words are a caress over my whole body. I had no idea praise could do that.
He uses two fingers to apply more pressure, increasing the speed of his circles. It’s exactly right. My hand flies to the side, fisting the sheets.
“Yes,” I let out. “Please, right there. Don’t stop.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says before lowering his mouth once again to my neck, his hand gathering mine.
We’re holding hands. He’s telling me I’m a good girl and bringing me to orgasm and still letting me know he’s here. I’ve never felt so cared for in my entire life.
With that, I fly over the edge, crying out so loud, our neighbors can probably hear me, but I can’t make myself care.
He coaxes me through several aftershocks, my legs trembling, until I can’t take any more. I push his hand away. He carefully removes it, eyes finding mine, and places both fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean.
My jaw drops. That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Aren’t first sexual interactions supposed to be awkward? This was anything but.
He shifts to lie on his side, facing me. I’m staring at him, dumbfounded, and I realize I should probably take care of him too. I reach for his boxers, but he catches my wrist, bringing it to his lips for a sweet kiss.
“Not tonight, Betty. I want this one to be only for you.”
Only for me. The concept is foreign, but I sink into the idea.
It’s nice. Not to feel any sort of obligation.
Not that I feel that way with Connor, but sex always felt like I have to give in order to receive.
And, more often than not, pleasure was tilted pretty far in Karsen’s favor, so this is new.
I sigh and shift so my leg is wrapped over his. “Thank you,” I say.
“Thank you,” he says with a wink, his arm coming to wrap around me, drawing me impossibly closer to him. He kisses the crown of my head.
I never want this feeling to leave.