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22. We all have needs

22

WE ALL HAVE NEEDS

T he rest of the afternoon goes by in a haze. An underwearless, sweaty haze.

No sooner had Will finished getting me off, than his mother called out for us to come sing happy birthday and blow out her candles. I lay there in shock momentarily as Will smugly readjusted himself in his pants, his eyes bright, cheeks flushed, breathing still a little ragged.

I don’t remember much of what happened after, but I remember leaning up on my elbows, eyes wide as I asked him, “What about you?” and him replying, “Believe me, that was more than I could have hoped for.”

I nodded in a trance-like state until he came back to bed, knelt between my still-spread legs, and kissed my clit over my underwear just once. He pressed his forehead to my hipbone for a few seconds, inhaling my scent deep into his lungs. After, he sat up and gently pulled my underwear down my legs, his fingers simultaneously leaving a hot trail and raising goosebumps as they caressed my skin.

I watched in awe as Will bunched my underwear in his fist and shoved them in his pocket. “For safekeeping,” he said with a mischievous smile before pulling my dress back down.

From the pad on the desk, he carefully ripped out the sketch he’d drawn and handed it to me. But I couldn’t bring myself to look at it. Not yet. That would have to wait until I was alone. So I folded it in four and held it tightly in my grasp. After, he led me out of his bedroom in a lust-drunk and foggy state—mostly shocked.

Now that we’re in the car, two blocks away from my apartment after his mother’s birthday party, I wonder what the fuck kind of safe keeping he was talking about anyways?

We haven’t said much to each other since leaving the party. Only short questions and answers for us. “Want a bite to eat?” “No, thanks.” “Air temperature good?” “Yeah.” “Stopping for gas if you want to use the bathroom.” “I’m okay.” All while I’ve been rocking this road trip commando.

Our fun banter has left the building. In its place, we’ve got sexual tension by the truck load and the urge to throw a million questions at him at the same time.

What the hell was that?

Did that feel as incredible to you as it did to me?

We should never do that again, but also: when can we do that again?

What does this mean for our friendship?

Instead, I tell him: “You can just drop me off here. No need for the door-to-door service.”

“Oh,” he says, his face falling. “Yeah, okay.”

“Plus, the car rental place is like ten blocks away, right? And don’t you need to return the car before end of day?”

He nods, his eyes studying my face.

“So… Thanks for a great afternoon. I had a ton of fun. And your mom is pretty great.”

He smiles as he parks the car on the side of the road, angry cab drivers cursing at him. “Yeah, thanks for coming. After having a promising start, you turned out to be a lousy buffer, but good company just the same.” He laughs gently, his whole body turned in my direction.

There’s a moment of silence that passes between us as we stare at each other. I wonder if I should ask whether he plans on giving me my panties back. Or whether he has plans of us doing this again. I want him to ask whether he can come up because he wants to and not because I ask him to.

But when everything goes unsaid, I open the door and whisper a goodbye. I hear his low, but audible gasp in my ear the second my lips press to his cheek. For a moment there, I think he might reach out and keep me in the car, but nothing happens. So in a state of defeat and confusion, I get out of the car and head back to my apartment.

Ginger happily greets me at the door, jumping on my legs for—you guessed it—food.

“You’re not supposed to eat for another half hour,” I tell her, checking the time on my phone. “But I’ll feed you now since you’ve been alone all day.”

While she purrs on the kitchen counter, chowing down on her dinner, I reorganize the debris of clothing my panic storm left all over the apartment. My morning freakout over what I would wear today seems so long ago, it’s surreal. And a bit inconsequential given everything that happened at Will’s mom’s house, if you ask me.

I focus on folding my sweaters and pants, on hanging my dresses and putting my shoes away, getting lost in a Marie Kondo-level organizational manic episode just to get my mind off of Will and whatever happened. I also focus on not opening the sketch he drew of me, choosing to leave it untouched on my kitchen counter. I’ll look at it when I’m ready. Someday.

It’s when I’m freshly out of the shower and in my bright pink slip that I hear a knock at the door. Not a buzzing in my intercom, but a knock.

Terrified my first floor neighbors have finally been found out by the FBI and need a place to hide, I tiptoe to the peephole only to find a panting Will, both hands on either side of the door frame.

“Will?” I ask, opening the door. “How did you get up here?”

“Came in just as one of your neighbors was leaving.”

“Oh. What are you doing here?”

He swallows once, his dark eyes locked on mine with a fire I feel down to my bones. They travel up and down my body, taking in every contour, every exposed freckle—and there’s a lot to see, since the slip isn’t exactly made for modesty.

“I’m here,” he says, voice deep and gravelly, “because of what happened earlier, obviously. I’m here because of these.” He takes my underwear from his pocket and holds them between us, dangling them between us with his index finger. The friendship bracelet I made for him is still on his wrist, right where mine is, too. “And I’m here to figure out what happened. Because in the moment, it felt like you enjoyed it.” He closes his eyes as if struggling to keep himself in the present, only to open them again with a feral expression. “Really fucking enjoyed it. But then you wouldn’t speak to me. Which, I mean, I get. Because previously we had agreed upon never doing anything like that again. But then I don’t know how things escalated—it was my fault, obviously—you didn’t ask me to crawl on top of you.” My cheeks blaze fire engine red at the memory of how he looked prowling toward me, the weight of his body on me. “And then that happened. But you didn’t stop me. And I didn’t even think to stop myself. So now I’m caught between thinking I’m either this fucking asshole who practically attacked you because he can’t stop thinking about you or…”

“Or?”

“Or you were into it, too.”

I watch him for a moment, measuring what to say. “You can’t stop thinking about me?”

Will huffs out a laugh. “Bridget.”

And I know we should probably, for the sake of our friendship, discuss what happened and what we would like to happen at length. But I decide to give up on maintaining rational thought or reasoning and simply whisper, “I was very into it,” before taking him by the hand, pulling him into my apartment, and closing the door behind us.

He places his hands on my hips, fingers digging into my skin through the delicate fabric of my slip. “Good. Because I’ve been wanting to see you come again since the second you came down from your orgasm that first night. And today was fucking surreal.”

I drag my hands up his arms, feeling his muscular biceps as I go, reveling in this moment. “You didn’t get to finish today,” I say with a pout. “Maybe we can fix that.”

He smirks before kissing me intensely, letting me walk him backwards toward my bed. I push him into a sitting position onto the mattress, mentally thanking myself for putting away all my clothes before his arrival. This would be difficult to do on top of a mountain of dresses and skirts.

I stand between his spread legs looking down at him as he grazes his fingers up the backs of my thighs, my core tightening with every millimeter he touches. By the time he reaches my fresh set of underwear, I’m breathing heavily, folding over him as I wrap his head in my arms, my hair falling forward over his back like a crimson curtain.

His fingers move to the front, trailing over my wetness to stop right above my already swollen clit. When he begins circling it over the cotton, I take ahold of his wrist to stop his movements. I bend down and press my lips to his in a gentle kiss. He attempts to deepen it, tongue playing at the seams, but I pull away.

“You were so good to me today, Will. So good. and I want to be so good for you, too. This one’s all you,” I breathe against his mouth. “Not me.”

Without breaking eye contact, I get to my knees in front of him and unzip his pants. Together, we push them down to his ankles, leaving his underwear on. I tilt my head back and stretch to kiss him as one of my hands pulls him from his underwear. When I begin to nip and lick at his lips, my fingers wrap around his hard cock. I balance myself with one hand on his chest, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of holding him in my hand, the power exchange happening right now. I’m on my knees, but he’s at my mercy, and I feel it even more when, on an upstroke, my thumb touches the tip of his cock, and he almost whimpers.

The sound of him starting to lose himself does it for me. In that moment, I know exactly what he’s going to ask of me, I know that I want to give it to him, and I know we’re both going to enjoy it.

“Be a good girl and suck my cock,” he almost growls, knotting the fingers of both his hands in my hair, moving my head down. He doesn’t need to push, though—I go enthusiastically.

I moan when my lips wrap around him, when I feel the soft mushroom tip on my tongue. My mouth waters even more when I begin to move, sucking hard, cheeks hollowed, and he groans and cries out my name, telling me I’ve been so good and now it’s his turn to come, and he’s going to do it in my mouth.

“I’m going to make a mess out of you. And you’re going to fucking like it.”

I speed up my movements. His breathing speeds. I tighten my hold on his thighs. He tightens his grip in my hair. I moan around his cock. He groans when I feel him come, filling up my mouth. I try and swallow as fast as I can, eyes squeezed shut as I do.

It’s the first time I’ve ever let a man come in my mouth—I’ve truthfully never seen the appeal and have always thought it sounded disgusting—but something about it being Will makes it different. As I lick my lips while I stare into his low-lidded eyes, l think I’ve learned something new about myself.

He exhales once, whistles, and shakes his head in disbelief. “That was some high quality head…”

We burst out laughing like two idiots. Heart fluttering in my chest, filled with pride at a job well done and something else, I stretch my neck up to kiss him on the lips. It starts off slow, playful. But I’m still on my knees in front of him, wet and needy, and hearing him lose control has made it even worse.

He knows me, though. So he helps get me to my feet without breaking the kiss. And as he bites my bottom lip and tugs at it, he finishes removing his underwear, kicking them and his pants off without ever letting me go. He pulls away to take off his sweater, and together we unbutton his shirt at the speed of light. Once we’re done, Will throws me on my mattress and flips me onto my stomach. Before I even know it, my face is buried on a pillow, my ass in the air, slip all the way up to my waist.

“Will!”

He crawls up over me, kissing up my spine until he reaches my neck where he places a soft bite. “I got you,” he whispers against my skin. “You know I fucking do.”

He’s got me.

He moves away and the loss of his body heat is painful. I need to feel him—his weight, his scent, everything —just to breathe. Finally, his hands come over my cheeks and he parts them. But I’ve never felt more exposed. My legs shake as I wait in anticipation for what he’s going to do, for what’s waiting for me. I can tell he’s on the verge of losing control—and I want that. But I understand his hesitation.

His hands tighten around me and suddenly his tongue is there, running down the length of my pussy to my clit, his entire face buried in me from behind. I scramble to grip my sheets, my pillow— anything —searching for some sort of purchase before I melt into a puddle on my bed. He comes at me with more enthusiasm and hunger than I’ve ever felt from anyone before in my entire life. The way he tightens his grip on my hips, the way he makes himself more comfortable between my legs like he’s found his true home, his favorite place in the world, have me crying out his name into my pillow.

Desperate. I’m desperate. Desperate for more. Desperate for him to stop because it feels too good. I’m desperate for him to keep doing this forever for the rest of our lives. It’s light and darkness and silence and noise and pain and pleasure all at once. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted and everything I’ve managed to avoid.

My skin buzzes with the perfection of it all.

I feel my legs begin to slip, and Will notices, grabbing me by my thighs now, pushing my legs a little closer to regain some stability. “Just a little bit longer,” he says before groaning into my pussy. “Just a little longer. I need you to come at least a couple of times like this before I fuck you.”

I fist my sheets, moaning his name as I lose the ability to say a single word. The noises he makes as his tongue presses against my clit, two fingers deep inside, tapping at that one spot that makes me crazy, has me over the edge after just a minute. When I come, my neck snaps back as best as it can and if it weren’t for Will’s strong grip, I would’ve certainly toppled over. But he’s relentless, his tongue a champion performer, his grunts and growls the ultimate dirty talkers, and even though his fingers are doing a phenomenal job, they are reminders that when he does get to fuck me, it’ll be even better.

“It’s all good. It’s all so fucking good ,” I manage to somehow moan.

His dark laughter against my pussy raises goosebumps on my overheated skin. “ Yes . Yes it fucking is.” And without another word, he sucks my clit into his mouth, a steady rhythm building in coordination with his fingers that has me coming soon after it begins.

I’m poured honey on my bed as I slide down onto my mattress, exhausted and more than satisfied. Every nerve in my body is a live wire, too sensitive to be touched. But Will doesn’t hesitate, flipping me onto my back as if I were nothing more than a plaything of his. And I love it.

He kneels between my legs, pulls my slip off. And when he finally comes over me, Will licks the sweat off my body in one straight line from my bellybutton to my collarbone. He runs his tongue over my erect nipples, stopping to bite and suck and play for a moment.

“…perfect fucking tits, covered in sexy freckles… wanna fuck them so bad and…” he mutters, too low for me to fully understand, utterly lost in my body. He’s not talking to me, anyways.

I close my eyes and relish in feeling this wanted, in feeling this need I have for him be matched. His lips keep roaming, tongue keeps flicking, teeth keep biting.

“Are you on birth control?” he asks suddenly. “Because I need to come inside you.”

He needs it—simple as that. And who am I to deny him his needs?

“Yes,” I say with a nod. “Yes, I am. But?—”

“I’m clean,” Will rushes to clarify. “I haven’t had sex since my last physical. You?”

“I got tested after finding out my ex cheated, and even then we always wore protection. And haven’t been with anyone since then. Except for you, of course. So… I’m good.”

The dark and intense look in his eyes, a clear sign of hunger, is replaced by a soft smile for a moment, only to transition into one of determination. He kisses me and, in its urgency, it’s messy and wet and barely even a kiss. But his lips are there just the same as he lines his cock up to my entrance, pushing in just the smallest amount. I hiss, because even just the tip of his cock is wide enough to have me straining—especially after everything he did to me earlier today and just now.

Will catches me wincing, kisses my brow, and whispers that he’ll start off slow to help me get used to it. But that once he gets started, he says, “not sure whether I’m gonna be able to stop. To fuck any other way than I want to fuck you, Bridget. And it isn’t tender and quiet and soft. Not now. That’s not what I want now.” He pauses to kiss my temple, inching just half an inch more. “Maybe later, when I’ve calmed down. When I don’t feel as wild as I do now. Okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut, I nod helplessly, my body feeling too empty, needing him more than I’ve ever needed anything. He kisses me once more, on the lips this time. Will takes a deep breath and tells me he’s going to fuck me now right before he pushes in to the hilt, making me cry out in surprise, pain, and of course, pleasure.

It’s a tight fit—just like it was the last time. But it feels incredible in an overwhelming, life-altering, joyous way.

Will moves over me, his hips delivering on his promise—a ruthless, steady rhythm that has me pulling my legs up to my sides to give him more room, wrapping around his waist and scratching at his back as my nails seek for purchase. I try to keep my eyes open, to watch him over me, to memorize every detail of this moment, but it’s impossible—I’m too overwhelmed by it all. The way he kisses my neck, the words he speaks in my ear, how he fills me inside, our combined scents filling my lungs, the taste of his sweat on my lips, and the knowledge that this is happening with Will— again —is almost too much to bear. I fear for one moment that I’m a second away from actual combustion—but the way things are going, it doesn’t sound as horrible a death, really.

When one of his hands comes up to rest at the base of my throat, I can’t stave it off any longer, losing all sense of control. Will’s name bounces off my apartment’s walls when it leaves my lips in a loud moan. Once he feels me begin to pulse, I know he’s at the end of his line, too. Will’s movements grow choppier and faster, he grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes in concentration.

He growls and tells me how many times he’s thought about this in the last few weeks: “At least once every half hour, Bridge. At least that.” His breathing grows ragged, his words no longer make any sense, and when he finally presses in as hard as he can with his hips, I feel him empty himself inside me, gasping for air as he does.