6. Chapter 6
Chapter six
T pulls back, his chest heaving and his expression dazed. “Damn, K. That was amazing.”
Pride warms my insides. I toss my hair and smirk. “I know. It’s kind of my specialty.”
I expect him to laugh, like he did earlier, but instead something angry, almost possessive, flickers in the depth of his eyes. Jaw working, he turns away, giving me a view of his very fine ass. With his back to me, he steps out of his jeans and underwear, then neatly folds them and bends down to put them on the floor.
When T finally faces me again, there’s a distance between us, a wariness in his expression. I’m not sure what I did to deserve it. It shouldn’t bother me, his sudden frostiness. I don’t even know this guy. I’ll never see him again. It hurts my feelings somehow, like he’s rejecting me before I’ve even had him. My spirits plummet, and sadness creeps in.
Refusing to look at him, I lean over to untie my boots. I’ve got the knot undone on the first one when T drops to his knees before me. Deft fingers untie my other boot with lightning speed. He holds the back of my calf and yanks off one boot, followed by the next. He rises to his full height, reminding me just how tall he is.
“Lean back,” T says, his voice gruff.
I do as he says, laying on my back with my legs dangling over the edge. He grips the top of my stockings and pulls. I lift my hips, deliberately staring at the ceiling, as he drags my tights off until I’m completely naked. The bed dips as he climbs in next to me. T helps me shift up higher until my head lands on the thin pillow. The mattress creaks, the sound loud in the silence. A whisper of fabric signals the sheet being drawn up. He pulls it over my body in a clumsy attempt at modesty, covering me from the shoulders down. I roll onto my side, facing him as he settles onto the other pillow, burrowing under the sheet.
My hair has spilled across my cheek, tangling from all the movement. T brushes it aside with a soft, “Hey.” His expression is sympathetic, like he understands the snarled knots of my emotions because he feels the same way.
“This is so weird, right?”
I gust out a startled laugh, the sound bursting free, easing the tension in my chest. “Yeah. I’m never telling anyone I did this. Like never ever .”
He chuckles with me, the sound of our laughter blending into one, filling the empty space between us. “Same here. Never .”
I roll onto my back, but the weight of his eyes stays on me, heavy and warm. Unwavering.
“Do you—do you want to stop?” he asks in a way that lets me know he hopes the answer is no.
I heave a sigh. My voice is raw, stripped down to the truth. “I don’t think I can. I need this to work. Not being able to do it makes me feel broken, and I hate that.”
T moves to hover over me, braced on one elbow. “Same,” he whispers, a repeat from earlier, but this time with more emotion. A single tentative finger reaches out to stroke down my arm, leaving behind a fiery trail.
“Kiss her. Take control for now, T.” Dr. D’s voice rings out, and there’s a sense of relief. I agree with him. It’s time to take this to the next level.
“Is that okay?” T asks quietly, barely moving his mouth as if he wants to keep the question between the two of us, not to be shared with Dr. D.
I reach for him, letting my lips part. He kisses me, soft at first but building slowly until we’re a mix of tongues and sighs. A strange longing for him, this man I just met, sweeps through me. T drags his hand down my body, stopping briefly to tease my nipple and then trailing it across my navel. Finally, he’s between my legs.
His breath stutters when he feels how wet I am down there, but his hand doesn’t hesitate. He strokes into me, running the flat of his hand from front to back, and then to the front again where, after a moment of fumbling, he finds my clit. My back arches off the bed as he teases that sensitive bundle of nerves. I’m panting now, my fingers digging into his shoulder. Inhuman whimpers burst out as he moves faster.
“You like that, don’t you?” he murmurs in my ear, his breath tickling and warm. “Right there?”
“Yes.” I bite my lip, letting my hips move to his rhythm. “Yes, that’s it.”
His erection is pressed against my side. I turn to him and grasp it tightly, noting how it grows even more rigid at my touch. We kiss, breathless, our hands busy between us.
“If you’re both okay with it, T, why don’t you move on top of K?” Dr. D suggests. An annoyed growl rises from the back of T’s throat. He was into this, and I don’t think he appreciates Dr. D interrupting our groove.
I open my legs and press my hand to T’s hip, urging him to move closer. He rises above me and shuffles to lie between my spread legs, with his cock at my entrance.
“You’ve both been tested with no evidence of STDs. Ms. K’s birth-control levels are adequate to prevent pregnancy, so we will skip a condom today. Removing that takes away one variable to explain why you both might have difficulty finding release during sex.” Dr. D drones on, but neither T nor I are listening because he’s kissing me again and I’m guiding him into my entrance.
He pushes in, just the tip, and we both cry out. Even though I’m wet, I’ve always been tight and he’s big, so it takes a few minutes of T pressing in, waiting for me to stretch, and then repeating the process. I murmur encouragingly the entire time, telling him that I’m okay, that I want him inside of me, that he feels so damn good. I always say these things to the men I sleep with, and most of the time they’re lies, but this time I’m being honest. Because I do want him in me, and it does feel so fucking good.
Finally, after several painstaking minutes, he’s all the way in, nice and deep. I’m full of him. I take a second to marvel at how well he fits. T lifts his lips from mine and kisses down my neck as he starts to move. I tilt my chin to give him better access as my pelvis lifts up to match the motion of his hips. T’s moving faster now. He pulls almost all the way out and then slams back in, his breath sputtering against my neck, bursts of warm air mingled with groans and sighs.
There’s a tightening in my core, a warmth deep inside that I know from masturbating means an orgasm is building.
This is it! I think. I’m going to come!
T’s movements grow choppy and uncoordinated. His eyes squeeze shut, and the muscles of his neck strain.
We’re going to come together!
Joy surges through me. I can’t believe it’s this easy. That knot winds tighter in me, my hands claw his back, and then…nothing. The feeling doesn’t disappear in a puff of smoke—it fades, growing slowly fainter and fainter until I can’t sense it at all. I hold out hope that even if it doesn’t happen for me, at least T will find release, but the same thing happens to him. His movements slow, become more erratic, like he’s trying to discover just the right angle or the right pace to get us off.
Finally, he collapses on me, sweaty and out of breath. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into my collarbone. “I couldn’t do it.” There’s despair in those words, with a healthy dose of shame and self-loathing.
I run my hands over his back, tracing soothing patterns into his skin. “It’s okay. I couldn’t either.” Shadows that haunt the corners of my mind creep forward to tell me that I’m a failure. That it’s because I’m not pretty enough, thin enough, good enough. That’s why I can’t do this simple task, something everyone else can accomplish with little effort.