Chapter 3 #2
“Jesus,” he rasps, his head tipping back, heavy-lidded eyes watching me ride him.
There’s something powerful in the way he looks at me.
Those eyes I could get lost in glance down to where we’re joined and his breath quickens.
Tyler’s hands are everywhere—skimming up my back, sliding down to my thighs, like he can’t decide what part of me he wants to touch the most. I move deliberately, grinding down, rolling my hips in a way that makes him suck in a breath.
“Like that?” I ask as I do it again.
“Yes, Jo,” Tyler growls low in his throat, his fingers digging into my skin as he lifts his hips, thrusting deeper.
The sensation rips a strangled moan from me, and I still, bracing my hands on his chest. I can feel his heart beating against my palm, the pounding rhythm matches my own, like we are joined in every possible way right now.
When we start to move again, it’s clumsy at first, both of us searching for the right rhythm. His face is a mask of concentration, eyes never straying from mine, and soon our bodies fall in sync, moving together, fast and desperate.
I don’t think I have another orgasm in me, but then he thrusts, hitting just the right spot, and I chase that sharp edge of pleasure coiling hot and tight between us.
Every snap of his hips sends another wave of heat pulsing through me, and I know I’m close.
I can tell he’s close, too, as his rhythm falters and his eyes slam shut.
My release coils through me right as he groans, pulling me against him.
I melt boneless, my sweaty forehead dropping to his shoulder as we sit, our chests rising and falling in the same rhythm. Finally, I break the silence.
“Never have I ever had two orgasms back to back,” I rush out. “We have got to do that again.”
His shoulders shake against me as he chuckles. “I think you may be right.”
The party downstairs is still going strong, but it’s getting late.
The noise has quieted, only the occasional song drifting in under the door to Tyler and me.
Between sex, we lie tangled on the couch, trading whispered secrets.
I tell him about my mom, how my half-brother and I were raised by our grandmother due to our mom’s unmedicated mental illness.
It shaped and molded everything about me and that’s why I fell in love with the mural project.
He opens up about how hard it was seeing the things his cousins went through with their dad at such young ages, and how, when they came to live with him and his parents, he did everything he could to be whatever his family needed him to be.
Between conversation, we’re kissing, or lying in the stillness, his fingers threading through my hair, sending shivers down my spine. Having someone play with my hair is my kryptonite.
Now we’re on the floor, my body draped across his bare torso, a throw blanket around us.
The song “Chasing Cars” drifts from the party, Tyler humming along and peppering sweet kisses to my shoulders.
Some of our clothes are back on, but not much.
He’s still shirtless, and I’m in my tank and panties, but somehow, with a guy whose last name I don’t even know, I’ve never felt more comfortable.
I should probably feel embarrassed. Ashamed, maybe?
But I feel neither. All I feel is pure, dizzying happiness laced with the dull ache of knowing this is temporary.
“Clark?” I whisper into the dark.
His chest rises and falls with quiet laughter at my use of the nickname I’ve given him. “Hmm.”
“I wish I could keep you. That the universe would find a way for me to keep you.” I trace shapes across his chest with my nails.
My words sound as exhausted as I feel, but I want him to know before this night ends and it all becomes just a memory.
Maybe I’ll find him on social media. Could we turn this into something, even if it’s long distance?
We’d have late-night phone calls till we can’t hold our eyes open and drive to meet halfway until someday the timing’s finally right.
This could be our meet-cute story. One only we’d know, of course, because you can’t tell just anyone you got drunk and slept with a stranger, multiple times.
How would I begin to explain what has happened tonight between Tyler and me?
He leans down to brush his lips against mine.
“Maybe the universe will. Jo, I need you to know that no matter what happens here, it wasn’t just a moment for me.
This meant something—means something. More than I expected.
I haven’t laughed like this in years, haven’t talked to someone like I’ve talked to you.
This feels real. You feel real.” Tilting his head back, he runs a thumb along my jaw. “Maybe we’re not over yet.”
Suspended in this moment, my eyes bounce between his. I grip his biceps and press my mouth to his for one last kiss. It’s suffused in sweetness, and I smile against his lips. When we part, my eyes flutter closed and I drift off to sleep, cocooned in his arms, a smile on my face.