SHORT STORIES 6 #3
Conversation came easier than she expected.
He told her he worked construction project management, which explained the hands and the truck.
She told him about systems design and Ryan's talent for knowing when she was lying about how fine she was during deadline week.
"Ryan sounds like a good coworker," Ethan said.
"He is. Nosy. Loyal. He already demanded the movie version of this on Monday."
"What will you tell him?"
Holly twirled pasta and smiled. "Depends how tonight goes."
Ethan's eyes darkened in a way that made her press her knees together under the table. "I meant what I said yesterday. Door. Bed. Time. No proving points. If at any moment you want food and a kiss goodnight only, that is still a win."
"I want more than a kiss goodnight," Holly said, and her voice stayed steady. "I want you. I am nervous. I am not uncertain."
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. His palm swallowed hers completely. "Then we go at your pace."
They skipped dessert. On the sidewalk, the night air was warm. Ethan opened the passenger door of the four-by-four and waited while she climbed up using the running board. When he got in, the cab felt intimate in a way her convertible never did.
"My place or yours?" he asked.
"Yours," Holly said. "If I take you to mine, I will overthink the laundry basket and the fact that my bed is not built for someone your size."
He laughed. "Fair. Mine is twenty minutes."
They talked on the drive, but the undercurrent was thick enough to touch. When his hand rested on her thigh at a red light, Holly placed her hand over his and guided it higher, then stopped him with a squeeze before things got reckless in traffic.
"Home first," she said.
"Home first," he agreed, voice rough.
Ethan's apartment was on the second floor of a quiet brick building. The space matched him: solid furniture, wide couch, a bed she could see through an open doorway that looked like it had been chosen by a man who hated feeling cramped. Holly set her purse down and took a breath.
"Water?" he asked.
"Water. Then you."
He got her a glass. She drank half of it standing in his kitchen while he leaned against the counter and watched her with open hunger held on a leash. When she set the glass down, she walked to him, put her hands on his chest, and looked up.
"Kiss me."
He did. It started soft and turned deep fast, his hands at her waist lifting her easily onto the counter so she did not have to stretch so hard.
Holly wrapped her legs around him as far as they would go and pulled him in.
The dress rode up. His mouth moved to her jaw, her throat, the place behind her ear that made her gasp.
"Bedroom," she whispered.
He carried her. She expected to feel ridiculous. She felt wanted. In the bedroom he set her on the edge of the mattress and knelt so they were closer to eye level. The sight of him kneeling in front of her made something in her chest go tight and sweet.
"Tell me your limits," he said.
"No pain. No surprises without asking. If something is too much because of size, we slow down or stop. I want to try. I want you inside me tonight if my body agrees once we get there. Condoms non-negotiable."
"All of that is easy." He opened the nightstand, showed her an unopened box, and left it on top where she could see it. "Your turn to ask me anything."
"Have you been tested?"
"Yes. Recent. Clean. I can show you on my phone."
"I believe you. I am clean too. Still condoms."
"Still condoms," he said, and smiled. "May I take this dress off you?"
"Yes."
He undressed her like he had all night. Zipper down. Fabric over her head. Bra unhooked with more care than haste. When she sat before him in only simple black underwear, Ethan looked at her as if the room had narrowed to her skin.
"You are stunning," he said.
"Your turn."
She worked his buttons with focused hands.
Shirt off. Undershirt off. The body beneath was powerful without being a performance, chest broad, stomach hard, arms thick from real work.
When she reached his belt, she glanced up.
He nodded. Jeans and underwear went down together, and Holly took a second just to look.
He was big. She had known that with her hand the day before. Seeing him fully hard in the soft lamp light still made her pulse jump.
"We go slow," Ethan said, reading her face. "If slow is not enough, we stop."
"Come here."
They stretched out on the bed and kissed until the first edge of nerves melted into heat. His mouth traveled down her body with deliberate patience, lingering at her breasts until she arched, then lower across her stomach. When he hooked his fingers in her underwear, he waited.
"Yes," Holly said.
He drew them down and settled between her thighs.
The first pass of his tongue made her fist the sheets.
He learned her quickly, not rushing toward a finish, adjusting when her breath hitched, holding her hips steady when she tried to chase too hard.
Holly came with a broken sound she did not recognize as her own, thighs trembling against his shoulders.
Ethan kissed the inside of her knee and looked up. "Still with me?"
"Very with you." Her voice was wrecked and happy. "I want you up here."
He moved over her, braced on his forearms so his weight stayed off her chest, and kissed her. Holly could taste herself on his mouth and found she liked it. She reached between them, stroked him, and felt him shudder.
"Condom," she said.
He rolled it on with efficient hands, then returned to her, the blunt head of him pressing gently where she was slick and sensitive. He did not push. He waited.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Ready. Slow."
He eased forward a fraction and stopped when her breath caught.
Holly closed her eyes, then opened them again because she wanted to see him.
The stretch burned in a deep, unfamiliar way, not sharp enough to scare her, intense enough to demand attention.
Ethan held still, jaw tight, eyes locked on hers.
"Breathe," he murmured. "I have you."
She breathed. Her body adjusted in small waves. She nodded. He gave her more, inch by careful inch, pausing every time her fingers dug into his arms. When he was finally seated deep, Holly felt impossibly full, pinned in the best sense by heat and size and the steady reality of him.
"Okay?" he asked.
"Okay. Move. Still slow."
He moved. Short strokes at first, then longer as her hips began to meet him.
Pleasure rebuilt under the stretch until the two braided together.
Holly wrapped her legs higher around him and pulled him closer.
Ethan groaned into her neck and kept his pace controlled even when she could feel how much effort that control cost him.
"Harder," she whispered after a while. "Not rough. Just harder."
He gave her that, deeper thrusts that made the headboard tap the wall in a dull rhythm.
Holly cried out and did not care. One of his hands slid under her lower back, tilting her, and the new angle dragged a broken yes out of her throat.
She came again with him inside her, clenching around him so tightly he had to freeze and breathe through it.
"Holly. God."
"Do not stop. I want you to finish."
He moved again, less polished now, still careful of his weight. When he came, he buried his face against her shoulder and said her name like it was the only word left in him. They stayed joined for a long moment after, both shaking, both smiling in dazed disbelief.