Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
T onight was the night.
We were going to have sex.
I paced my living room in my best summer dress.
A knee length, cream colored one covered in sunny yellow daisies.
The top had been designed to tie together over my breasts and leave just a little peek at my cleavage, but Frankie tied each side to the wide set straps, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, no matter how much I protested at the exposure. Duke didn’t need a show. We had a deal.
One month. Just friends.
I spun the puzzle cube in my hands as I paced to keep them busy so I wouldn’t mess up my lightly curled hair. Frankie said it looked hot without looking like I tried too hard. It took her an hour and three hair products to do before she excused herself for the night and left me alone to stress .
Something skittered along my spine, either nerves or excitement, and I didn’t know whether I should run away or jump him the second he walked into the room. I asked for this, but feelings seldom made sense, especially my own.
Either way, a fluttery sensation worked through me. The same one that cropped up every time I thought of the kiss. I knew I would wear a hole in my floor if I kept going, but I just couldn’t sit still.
I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t hear the door open. It wasn’t until Duke touched my arm that I realized I wasn’t alone anymore.
“Lily,” he said in a tone that sounded like he had said it already. “You ok? We don’t have to do this.”
“I want to. I’m just excited… or nervous. Maybe both. I’m not sure.” I turned to face Duke and tossed the puzzle cube to the side, not bothering to pay attention to where it landed. “I’m definitely feeling things about it, but that alone makes me want to do it more.”
I blushed, feeling off center at the intense way he looked at me that made me feel bare, like I was already naked and I… liked the idea.
His eyes ran up my dress—my body—snagging on my cleavage. I swear he muttered something about fucking milkmaids, but I couldn’t be sure. Before I could ask, he shook himself and pulled his phone out of his pocket, his attention caught by whatever it said.
“Ok, now, tell me, what the fuck is this?” He turned his phone to me.
He pulled up the email I sent detailing what I wanted to try, what I was curious about, and what I definitely didn’t want to even come close to trying.
I didn’t expect us to do everything on my long list, but I thought it would be…
helpful to have it. Now, I was worried that I did so mething wrong.
“I thought I said that in the subject line.”
Anxiety pricked at me. He would back out now. Too weird. I knew I should have just kept it all to myself. I moved back, and he reached out to stop me.
“Sexual Positions and Scenarios Categorized by Curiosity Level and Potential Tolerance,” he quoted.
He didn’t even look at his phone first. He memorized it.
A little thrill ran through me when he didn’t immediately dismiss it, but instead took the time to memorize the subject.
Did he memorize all of it? Did he even read it?
“Yes. I know it’s probably not normal, but I wanted to be clear about what I ex—wanted and nothing about any of this is normal anyway, so I figured I might as well put it all out there.
Do you have a list? Things that you like and things you don’t.
” I was babbling. He knew what the goddamn list was, but I couldn’t make my mouth stop moving.
“Your safe word is pineapple?” He raised an eyebrow at me, his hand still on my arm and a small smile playing on his lips.
“Yes,” I squeaked. I cleared my throat and nodded my head. “What’s yours?” I sounded so stilted and awkward to my own ears. I felt awkward. “We should be able to still have… ground rules or boundaries. Can we have boundaries with something like this? Yes. Right?”
“Deep breaths, Lily.” He breathed with me and the world steadied. I didn’t realize it wasn’t stable until then. “I’ve never needed a safe word before.”
“Oh.”
Shit .
This was not going well. I didn’t expect that. Oh god, he probably thought I was a freak now. He was going to call this off and that would be it. My window for… this would be over. My only chance was slipping away from me, and I didn’t know how to grab it back.
“Pterodactyl.”
“What?” I exclaimed. His voice jarred me out of another spiral. I couldn’t even remember what we were talking about.
“My safe word is pterodactyl, but if you think we are diving into the deep end here, you can think again. We have thirty days and today we can just take things slow.”
Slow. I nodded. I can do slow.
“Do you want” —I swallowed— “a blow job?”
Duke closed his eyes and muttered something I couldn’t quite catch.
“I’m sure I’m not good at it?—”
“Lily.”
“who is their first time?—”
“Lily.”
“but isn’t that kinda how this go?—”
I didn’t get to finish my sentence because Duke’s lips covered mine, stealing my words, my breath, my thoughts. I moaned and leaned into him, but he pulled back before either of us could deepen the kiss.
“I know you’re nervous. Use your safe word. Just tell me to stop. Say no. Call the whole thing off. But trust me to take care of you, please.”
He held my face in his large hands. How had I never noticed just how big his hands were? I don’t know where he put his phone, and it didn’t matter anymore.
I nodded with the limited space his grasping hands gave me.
“Did I cross a boundary there? Kissing you like that?”
I shook my head, staring at his lips, wanting more. I always expected a man’s lips would be… hard, un compromising, thin, but his were so soft and warm and inviting. I wanted another taste.
He didn’t hold me back as I moved in closer and kissed him again. Slowly, I took his lips with mine, tasting them, savoring the mint and whiskey taste of him. It soothed and excited me all at once.
“Did you have a drink before you came?” I asked when we parted.
He snorted before answering.
“Yes. You aren’t the only nervous one.” His hands were still on my face, one of his thumbs moved to my mouth and traced my lips, like he was as obsessed with mine as I was with his.
I liked that. Not his thumb—well, I liked that, too—but that he was nervous, that he was obsessed with something about me. It made me feel less… alone in this, in life, in how I felt and what I wanted.
“Can we… Would you like to move this to my bedroom?” I asked, my voice breathy and unrecognizable.
His answering smile came slowly, and my breath stuttered in response. I brought my hands up to his where they cupped my cheeks and kissed each one.
He didn’t fight me, but let me lead him to my bedroom. I let go of his hand when we walked through the door and stepped to the lamps at my bedside to turn one on.
He closed the door behind him, and then turned and leaned back against it.
“Come here,” he said in a gruff voice that sent shivers down my spine.
I walked over to him, my bare feet landing softly on the rug and wood flooring, the only sound in the room. He watched me, but I didn’t feel self-conscious about it. Instead, I felt… free, beautiful, like a Morpho butterfly em erging from my cocoon, ready to fly into a brand-new world.
I stopped before him and looked at him. Actually, looked for the first time…
ever, probably. He’d grown into his feet and ears, and I could see why women fell for his charms. He’d let his dirty blonde hair grow out enough to show its wave without seeming unprofessional.
He was tall and broad. I felt dainty next to him despite being tall myself.
His hazel eyes were intense on me as he pulled me the last few steps toward him, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from him.
I always enjoyed looking at him when we were younger. Sometimes, just finding him in a crowded room or on the playground eased my anxiety and shut out all the noise and people.
I reached for his shirt and unbuttoned the top button before his hands came up to stop me. Nerves and doubt clawed up from the pit I’d shoved them down. “Do you—should I—I don’t know what to do.”
“I told you we are taking things slow for now,” he covered my hands with one of his and brought the other to my cheek, cupping it and caressing it as he moved it back into my hair.
“Oh, are you going to kiss me?” His thumb traced my jaw and down my neck.
“Yes,” he said as he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.
His hand let my hand go to wrap around my waist and pull me closer. I wanted to touch him and learn what those muscles felt like with nothing in the way, but I didn’t want to push him, so instead, I brought my hands up around his neck and pressed tight against the hard length of his body.
He skimmed his hand slowly down my neck until he reached the straps of my dress and traced the top of my breast where it met my top.
“Is this new?” he asked as his other hand moved up my back to undo the tie that held my dress tight against me.
“Yeah.”
“It’s beautiful.” He pulled on the ties holding my dress to me before sliding the straps off my shoulders. Without the support of the faux corset top, it slid to the floor in one easy motion, exposing me to him almost completely.
He stared, his eyes wide, until I wanted to fidget and cover myself.
“God, Lily,” he said in a low voice that barely carried across the small space between us.
“Are you going to stare at me or touch me? I can always touch myself.” I didn’t move, though.
He groaned.
“Do it,” he said roughly. “Touch yourself.”
I stepped back and ran my hands up my stomach. I liked the soft touch that Duke gave me, so I tried to do the same. It didn’t feel as good as his hand, but it was familiar, and I relaxed into the sensation.
I ran my hands up to cup my breasts and cover them. I expected to feel awkward about this, but I didn’t. My best friend watched me touch myself and lift my breast like they were an offering to him. His eyes held nothing but heat and longing as he focused on me.