Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Summer
After dinner that night, we move to the couch without any discussion.
Henry sprawls out and tugs me in against him, so we’re both lying down as we watch a show he likes.
I don’t pay any attention to it. I’m more interested in his body. I slide my hand under the hem of his T-shirt. “Is this okay?”
His muscles tense under my touch. “Yes.”
But he hesitates before he says it. I don’t want him to regret this later. “Henry. . .”
“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “You can touch me.”
I play with the soft hairs below his belly button, then run my palm flat down the front of his pants. To the heavy cock I want to explore.
I stroke him through the fabric of his pants. I like how he grows under my touch, getting harder and flexing. I trace the shape of him with my fingertip, loving the change in his breathing.
My touch does that to him. Makes his exhales ragged, and his inhales slower and more deliberate. Like he’s gotta hold on really hard to his control.
I could make him slide out of control.
I flatten my palm again, covering as much of his cock as I can, and I try to imagine what it would be like to have him bare in my hand. To jerk him off and make him come.
“That’s enough.”
I squeeze. “Doesn’t feel like enough.”
“We should go to bed.”
“Mmm, yes.”
“To sleep, Summer.”
“Buzzkill.” I launch myself onto his body, loving the way he catches me and holds me against his big chest. I give him a serious look. “You know I’m just teasing, right? I’m okay with the slow stuff if that’s what you want. I’m having fun.”
“I can tell.”
“You didn’t finish watching your show.”
“I was watching you.” He holds my chin between his fingers. “Better than anything on TV.”
I wriggle against him, and he lets me kiss him, then kisses me back. Slow and deep, with lots of tongue. My legs rub against his, my pelvis pressing against the cock I raised to a hard erection.
He’s still rock solid, and he’s not stopping me from grinding against him.
“You make me feel good,” I whisper.
“I’m glad.”
“Do you want to come like this?”
He groans and rolls us off the couch, his big arms holding me until my feet find the floor. “And that’s enough of that.”
“Why?”
He ignores me and stalks into the bathroom. I follow him and watch as he brushes his teeth.
Wordlessly, he hands me my toothbrush. We clean up together, then he leaves when I say I have to pee.
“You could stay,” I tease through the closed door.
When I come out, he’s lying flat on his back on the bed, blankets folded down to the bottom of the bed. His cock is in relief against his sweatpants, like a thick, beautiful, and vulgar sculpture.
“Was that too much?”
“No,” he says thickly. “It’s never too much.”
“You’d watch me pee?”
He swears under his breath. “Come to bed.”
I curl up next to him, and he turns out the light, tugging the blanket up and over my body.
“Yes,” he says in the darkness. “I would.”
“That’s fascinating.”
“Is it?”
“I mean, I know people on the Internet—”
“Don’t look that shit up.”
“It’s not something I sought out,” I say hotly. “Sometimes it just appears when you’re looking up normal stuff.”
“What kind of normal stuff were you looking up?”
I press my lips together, trying to contain my glee that Henry asks me about sex stuff for once and not the other way around. “Taking virginity videos. Big man, little girl. . . that sort of thing. How it works. With the size difference, and—”
He rolls over and kisses me, his hand in my hair, his mouth urgent.
I kiss him back, soft and welcoming. Show me, I try to say. Who needs porn when you have a real-life Henry.
“It’s not like that. Whatever you’ve seen. It’s not. . .” He stops and drags in a breath.
“Show me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want to do bad things to you.” He tucks me into his side, a big, soft giant who could never hurt me even if he tried.
“How bad?”
He chuckles in the dark. “Can’t trick me.”
“But maybe you’re wrong, and they aren’t actually bad.
” I stretch one leg up into the air, a flash of pale skin, then lower it down and repeat it on the other side.
“Mama taught me that it’s not the act that’s wrong; it’s just the timing.
And maybe the person, too, although she didn’t say that part out loud.
But if it’s just a matter of timing, it figures that there will be the right person at the right time.
And when it’s the right person, all the bad things will be good things because—”
“I’m not your right person.”
I smile at the ceiling. “Yes, you are. But it’ll take you some time to realize.”
“God, I love your confidence. Now go to sleep.”
I roll onto my side, away from him. “Scratch my back?”
“Sure.”
He draws lazy figures on the bare skin between my tank top straps.
I don’t fall asleep. I usually do, really fast; it’s a gift. But not tonight. Eventually, he slows his touch on my back, then slides his arm around my waist, tugging me back against him.
“Your brain is going a million miles a minute. I can hear it from here.”
“I can’t help it.”
He sighs. “What’s on your mind?”
I roll my hips back against his half-thick cock. “Bad things.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, so it’s okay for me to tell you, but not for you to tell me?”
“Precisely.”
“Mmm.” But I love to tell Henry things that make him uncomfortable, that makes him blush. That makes him hard.
And most of all, I love to tell him things that loosen his attachment to this ridiculous idea that we won’t be perfect together.
“I want you to touch me when I’m half asleep.” I have no shame as I make the confession. There is no part of my mind I won’t share with him if he’s willing to hear it.
He groans into my hair, his hold on me tightening.
“I think I’ll like it real slow. Just your fingers moving inside me, glacial movements. Your thumb on my clit. Then all of your fingers shoved inside me, so I’m full—”
His hand jerks up from holding my waist and covers my mouth.
Behind me, his breath is ragged, uneven. Horny.
“I’m going to sleep on the couch,” he mutters.
“Don’t.” I slide out of his grip and sit on the edge of the bed.
Maybe I should have done this weeks ago.
I take a deep breath, then tug my tank top over my head.
I stand, knowing I’m backlit by the moonlight, knowing he can see what I’m doing, and shove my shorts down my hips.
My nudity is highlighted by the light coming through the window.
He grabs me and tumbles us into bed, my body rolling beneath his.
There’s a moment of tension, a warring between him and himself, then I see in his eyes when he finally snaps.
We fit together perfectly for all our differences in size. My legs fall open, and I press my hips up, eager to feel him where I’m wet, but he pushes me down, one hand hard on my hip, the other on my shoulder.
I gasp at the arousal that courses through me. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Anything I want,” he says lazily, his gaze raking over my body. “You are the sexiest fucking thing. Look at you. Naked in my bed. My hot little secret.”
His whole hand covers my breast, making me instantly wet.
“Are you going to fuck me?”
He licks his lips, flicking his gaze up to my face before falling back to my bare tits and then to the dark vee between my legs. “Jesus, Summer. When we get there, let’s not call it fucking the first time, okay?”
When. I like the sound of that. “Okay. But we’ll call it that the second time, right?”
He chuckles darkly and zeroes in on my lips. “I think we’ll start with your mouth. You wanted to learn how to give a blowjob. How does that sound? Should I fuck your innocent little mouth?”