Reply All

15. Revisiting certain discussions can be a good thing

15

REVISITING CERTAIN DISCUSSIONS CAN BE A GOOD THING

G inger, it turns out, barely even notices Will’s presence, choosing instead to glare as I come in, silently giving me shit for neglecting her dinner time and leading me into the kitchen.

My place isn’t “company ready” by any means. There are clothes strewn about everywhere, my bathroom counter is covered in a layer of cosmetics, skincare, and hair clips, in an uncharacteristic move, my Murphy bed is down and unmade, and the only other piece of furniture I have, Ginger’s chair, is covered in orange and white cat hair.

But I don’t care. Because I know somehow that Will doesn’t care either. By the look on his face—a little less frenzied now, a little more fascinated—he’s just happy to be here. From the corner of my eye, I watch him examine my place as I feed my little monster, who finally stops for one second to stare at our guest suspiciously as I pour her food into her bowl.

“Relax,” I whisper to her after she jumps up onto my small kitchen counter. “He’s not going to kill us and he’s not here to take your tuna and whitefish paté.” She practically rolls her eyes before proceeding to attack her food.

“Were you just talking to your cat?” he asks. His smile is fond as he stands by the window. The neon lights from the restaurants outside cast a red glow on his face that remind me of the deep flush he sported just a minute ago. Just when he had me pressed against my apartment door.

“Duh. It’s not like that’s weird or anything,” I say defensively. I prepare myself for the ultimate red flag: he doesn’t like cats.

But I should’ve known better, because Will laughs softly, walking over to me before placing his hands on my hips and says, “Nah. It’s cute.” He looks over my shoulder at her. “And cats are awesome. Are you gonna introduce me?”

“Mmm, she’s pretty busy at the moment.”

With a wistful smile, Will shakes his head. “Alright then. I’ll try not to take it personal.” He brushes a strand of loose hair behind my ear, following its movements as if it were the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, you know that? I thought so the second my screen filled with your face. Even before then, I think, when I didn’t even know what you looked like.”

I snort. “You’re just saying that.”

Looking alarmed, his hand drops to his side. “No, I’m not.”

“It’s okay if you didn’t find me attractive, Will,” I say, trying to play it off as if it didn’t gut me when he pulled back from his flirty texts. “It was kinda obvious you weren’t into me.”

“What? Are you insane? What the hell makes you think that?” Genuine shock spreads across his face. And I’m just as baffled by his reaction, honestly.

I lean back to stare him straight in the eye. “Are you kidding? You stopped being all flirty the second we saw each other for the first time on camera.”

“Because it was the day after we sexted, and you had ghosted me! I’m not gonna be the dick who pushes themselves on someone after they were asked to back down. You said you wanted to keep things friendly and weren’t interested in pursuing anything sexual or beyond.”

Fuck .

“I did say that.”

And now that he brings it up, it means we obviously need to reevaluate our agreement from a few weeks ago. Or stick to the plan, stick to just being friends, because it feels like Will is the only person I can depend on lately and, based on personal history, my romantic relationships never seem to last. It’s too much of a risk. I should nip this thing in the bud right now, before things get too serious. Before we jump into bed and… But I don’t want to stop and think about it. I don’t want to think of the consequences of my actions. I’ve been waiting for this moment and now we’re finally here and he’s here and?—

“I’d like to revisit this discussion, if that’s possible,” he says, his voice several octaves deeper, eyes dark and hungry. He pulls me closer to him, my breasts pressed up against his chest. I slide my hands up his arms, over his corded biceps, to his shoulders. His coat is long forgotten, hanging on the hook by the front door, mine tossed haphazardly onto the kitchen counter.

“Sure,” I murmur against his lips, eyes closed as I dig my fingers into his hair. “Maybe later, though.”

With a groan, he presses his lips to mine, his kiss destructive to my soul, because I’ve never felt anything quite like this. He bends to carry me in his arms, holding on to my ass when I wrap my legs around his waist, thighs exposed as the skirt of my dress rides up to my waist. The slight bounce as I settle in this position ends in a delicious friction where I’m already so wet and ready. I can feel my thin lace and cotton panties soaked through from before, and now I just want them off . My whole body cries out for him to do it again, to feel the ridge of his hard cock hit my clit over our clothes so I can feel that release I crave more than oxygen. He tenses, sensing exactly what I need because that’s him. That’s Will. My confidant, the only person who truly knows me. But I want him to know me everywhere and I want to know him too. Bouncing me once more in his arms, he does it again, his hardness hitting me right where I need him most. This time, I don’t hold back the way I moan his name into his neck, begging him for more.

“Fuck, Bridget. Fuck. ” We turn and he walks me over to the bed. Thankfully, my apartment is practically closet-sized, making it a bearably short trip. With gritted teeth, he tosses me onto the mattress where I fall with a bounce. In the back of my mind, I thank my lucky stars I forgot to put the Murphy bed away.

The mattress squeaks below me, but I barely notice, too focused instead on the way Will’s dark eyes lock on mine when he removes my high heeled boots, throwing each one over his shoulders. I can’t think of anything else as his hands travel up my thighs, parting them and lifting my skirt up once more as he does. When he reaches my underwear, he runs his index and middle finger over the fabric up and down, before moving it to the side. “You’re so fucking wet for me, Bridge. And you have such a pretty pussy, don’t you?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and nod my head desperately, biting down on my lip for fear of screaming out in desperation. Will sits up and pulls my underwear off, before throwing them over his shoulder as well; then, he settles back between my legs, as comfortable there as if it were his second home. His fingers tease my clit. Circle it in a slow, torturous rhythm. Feeling the wetness there, sending shivers up my spine despite feeling completely engulfed in flames. It doesn’t make sense, how I feel. Everything is in disarray yet in perfect order. I can barely understand anything, yet it all makes perfect sense. I feel so alone, yet am surrounded by his arms around my hips, his scent in my apartment, and his growls as he kisses around my pussy before finally putting me out of my misery and running his tongue over me in one, perfect, slow lick.

My back arches off the mattress, and I cry out Will’s name, pleading for more than just that one touch, more than just the way he holds me open. I want you to hold me tighter. To lick me longer. I want your fingers inside as you taste me.

And I guess I’ve said it all out loud because his grip tightens like a snake around my thighs and hips, a hand pressing down on my abdomen to keep me still. His mouth comes down on my clit with a moan, where Will makes himself comfortable. Finally, the fingers of his free hand join his tongue in completely overwhelming me, giving me something to tighten around as little bursts of a precursor to an orgasm start coursing through me.

He eats me like a starved man, while savoring me like I’m his last meal.

Way too soon, I find myself barreling toward an orgasm, careening wildly towards a place I’d clearly never been to before in my life. Because sex—at least oral sex—has never been like this for me. At once animalistic and perfectly measured, a series of contradictions that leaves me spent and melted and wet and a sticky mess on my mattress as I watch Will helplessly get to his knees on the bed and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand before licking his fingers clean.

“I used to think you’d taste like strawberries and cream. Maybe cherries.” He begins to unbutton his shirt, breathing ragged. Meanwhile, I wonder whether I’m still alive. Wonder how I’m even able to pull in any air. “I should’ve known someone like you, someone with your passion and brightness, would taste more like cinnamon and something floral. Like magnolia.” He peels his shirt off and I lose all sense, sitting up just to run my hands down his perfect, defined, tan chest. I feel the light smattering of hair beneath my fingertips, feel the smoothness of his skin, dewy from exertion.

“I could lick every inch of your chest,” I admit in a whisper.

In one wild movement, he manages to pull my dress over my head, leaving me in my bra. His eyes land on my breasts, pupils widening as I fall back onto the bed and they bounce. “Fucking. Ditto.”

He leans down to kiss me on the lips, his tongue and mine a tangled mess, before moving down to my neck. “I could kiss every single one of these perfect freckles. Like tiny targets of where I know I’m gonna lick and kiss and bite you.” Will moves the cups of my bra over my tits, where he spends a considerable amount of time lavishing them. His tongue plays with my nipples, teeth grazing, giving me just enough pain to make me cry out, but not for it to hurt.

“I used to hate them,” I breathe, my hands in his hair, over his back and shoulders.

“What?” His voice is muffled as he speaks against my skin, face between my tits.

“My freckles. I hated them.”

He looks up suddenly, anger in his eyes. “You’re fucking perfect, Bridget. Every fucking inch of you that I’ve seen is perfect. And I’d bet everything that I am that what I haven’t yet is perfect, too.”

“Really?”

Will’s eyes soften before he reaches up to kiss me slowly, endlessly—so deep I feel myself sink into another world I never want to come back from. “Really,” he whispers when he pulls away. I want to cry because he gets to his feet, and the loss of his body against mine is devastating. But it only takes a second for him to remove his shoes and socks, his pants and underwear, before he’s back on me and the relief of it is immediate.

His hands are around my waist when he suddenly flips us, his fingers working the clasp of my bra with ease. It’s like it wanted to jump off my skin for him. I settle on his thighs, feeling the long hard length of him right beneath my folds. The tip of him touches my clit and if I move just so ? —

I gasp and lean forward, catching myself with my hands on his chest. His hands fly to my hips to keep me stable, to keep my hips from moving. Which is good, because right now, in the fog of pure need, I ache to rock myself on top of him. To feel his cock between my wet folds. To let him make me come just by doing this alone.

“Fuck, you feel incredible. Even just by doing this.” He groans and experimentally moves me back and forward. My head snaps back as I call out his name and beg for him to do it

“Again, Will. Please, please, please— I need it again.”

“Okay, baby. You know I’ll always give you what you want, right?”

I melt like sugar in his hands, but he doesn’t let me fall. Instead, he digs his fingers into my skin and forces me backwards and forwards on his cock. Will’s groans mix with my moans in a beautiful orchestra that bounces off the paper-thin walls of my apartment, my neighbors surely getting a kick out of what’s bound to be one of the best nights of my life.

I come for the second time tonight, collapsing and falling forwards on Will’s damp chest. I kiss his skin, tasting the salty wetness on my lips as I try to catch my breath. But he doesn’t give me time to recover. Before I even know what’s happening, Will rolls us so he’s on his knees and he’s somehow maneuvered me to end up on all fours. Ass up, head down. He slaps my ass once, making me yelp. It’s a surprise, that’s for sure, but not an unwelcome one.

He kneels behind me and takes a hold of my hips, pressing his cock against my ass cheeks without entering me. Will leans over me, kissing up my spine, licking my neck. “Condom. Need condom…” I thought he was in control, but he’s just as lost as I am, struggling to form full sentences, trying to keep his head on his shoulders so we don’t make a stupid mistake.

“Nightstand,” I do my best to say. After all, my face is pressed down onto my pillow.

He pulls away for no longer than fifteen seconds but the ache of his absence is visceral. I feel empty and wound tight, needing to be filled and used once again. I don’t know how I’m still conscious after the two most intense orgasms of my life, but here I am, wanting more. While I wait for him, my brain spirals, despairing because how the hell am I supposed to go on in my life after this ?

Thankfully, he’s back before I’ve gone too deep down a black hole, the heat of his body behind mine enough to pull me back to the present.

I feel Will line himself up against me, feel the initial push. And though I’m wetter than I think I’ve ever been before, and even though I’ve come more than once at the mercy of his mouth and hands, it’s still a struggle to fit. It takes a series of false starts, of small and measured thrusts, before he’s able to push in to the point where he can move. When he pushes into me to the hilt, my face pressed into the pillow, I grit my teeth as I feel the painful and delicious stretch. His deep, wild groan does something to me I’ve never felt before; it awakens an instinct to claim Will as mine and let him take me wherever he wants, because I will follow.

It’s impossible to keep my eyes open as I breathe through each of his movements once he starts a steady rhythm. It’s not long before Will increases his pace, and I don’t think it’s a conscious decision. Based on the way he holds on to my hips, the way he calls out my name over and over again like a chant that will save his fucking life, Will is on the edge of losing control.

“Can you come again?” he asks, his voice desperate and out of breath. “I need to feel you come again. I want to feel you around my cock.”

I whimper at his words, wanting to give him just that. So I make to slide my hand to my clit, but he stops me, choosing instead to take on that task on his own. “Me. I want to be the one making you come.”

It’s the most difficult thing in the world, talking. He’s so deep inside, I feel every inch of him and it hurts . It hurts and yet it is so fucking good.

I feel him shake his head when he moves my hand away, leans his sweaty forehead on my shoulder. “I want to be the one making you come,” he repeats.

His fingers are steady and the pressure is beautiful and perfect, and pure heaven and hell. It isn’t long before I find myself nearing the end of the line, just a moment away from imploding in Will’s arms. His punishing rhythm is back, his coordination skills truly award-worthy. He fucks me so intensely while he touches me so delicately, I can hardly make out the words he breathes against my ear.

“Beautiful, Bridge… Waiting forever. So fucking long … Coming, coming. I’m fucking coming .” And when he bares down his teeth on my shoulder, I join him. Together, we fall over as we come, his hips still thrusting, pushing me into the mattress as he empties himself into the condom, in me, as I writhe beneath him.

For a moment, we don’t speak or move. Then, I feel Will’s large hands travel up and down my arms, skimming me with his fingertips, raising goosebumps on every inch of my body. He moves my hair to one side so he can press soft kisses to my neck and shoulder, and I never want him to stop.

Will anchors the condom and pulls out, making me whimper from the loss of him. With an arm around my waist, he rolls us on our sides and pulls me into him, condom discarded somewhere. On the floor? The table? I don’t really care.

When Will’s lips move to my ear, he whispers, “What now?”

I shake my head, keeping my eyes on the wall across the room, not wanting to speak—not even knowing if I physically can.

I feel Will nod against me before he presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Okay. Okay. We’ll talk about it in the morning.” In what turns out to be typical Will fashion, he pulls me even tighter still into his chest, where I happily settle. In the comfort and safety of his arms, I fall asleep after just a few seconds.