Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Summer
Henry's hand is between my legs. It’s the middle of the night, and I wake up because I’m horny—then I realize it’s because he’s touching me.
I’m soaked, my panties a wet mess, and I desperately want his fingers under the cotton. I push my bum back at him, but he doesn’t change his slow, gentle petting.
I don’t think he’s awake.
My whole body feels like it wants to turn itself inside out. I want him inside me. It's a crystal clear desire. The only thing that will solve this deep need is Henry.
I can't say how I know I need him inside me.
I should be scared of the whole idea. I've watched enough porn and spent time stroking him.
Looking at him. I find my gaze drawn over and over again to the bulge behind his jeans when he works.
His sweat pants when we're alone. Wondering at the heavy shape of him and how it could ever fit inside me.
And there is that frisson of fear. The classic concept of oh, it could never fit because I'm so little and he's so big.
But even though I am so little and he is so big, I also know all about how our bodies change and grow to birth babies. I know that when a woman is this wet and heat is swirling low in her belly, she can take a man inside her, no matter his size.
Mama didn't want me to ever have sex, so she went out of her way to make sure that I knew how uncomfortable that first time would be. How I should want to save it for the right person.
But here in the dark, I know I did that. I know Henry is the right person.
He’s spooning me, his big arm wrapped around my body and cupping my pussy from the front.
Which means if I just shift my hips back and maybe down, I’ll feel it—
His cock.
It’s heavy and big against my thighs, now that I’ve found it. If I could get my panties off and his pants down—okay, that’s two complicated steps, but a girl can dream—it would be so easy to rock my hips back and just see if the tip fits inside me.
I hold my breath as I push my panties down my hips. The completely bare skin between my legs feels different—sexier—and very slick. Like nothing is stopping my arousal from spilling out and sliding down my thighs.
Henry murmurs in his sleep as I tug the cotton out from under his touch, then grunts as his hand squeezes and he discovers he’s cupping bare pussy.
“Summer,” he mumbles. “Baby, you feel so good. I just want to touch you, okay? Just want to make you feel. . .”
My heart hammers in my chest. “Need you,” I whisper back. “Want to feel you against me.”
He shoves his shorts down, and his cock thumps against me, warm and solid. I spread my legs, lifting my top thigh up to make space for him, and he thrusts his erection against me.
Something tells me he’s still asleep, only partially aware of what we’re doing.
It's a big, blunt intrusion between my legs. Something not so much for me to push on to, more rub against, but the angle is wrong. He doesn't enter me at all even as I grind; his cock just slips around against my wet pussy. I can't figure out the coordination of it all.
Maybe I'm not meant to. Maybe this is a two-person job.
And then, just when I think I'm going to give up, his other hand snakes around me, wrapping around my waist and pinning me back against him.
His whole body starts, a jolt of awareness.
And then he's groaning, growling my name as he presses his face into the bare skin of my neck.
He changes the angle, and instead of penetrating me how I want it, his cock is now lodged firmly between my thighs. He’s pinning me into a specific position, creating a tight space.
Now the pressure is different. The tip of his cock rocks deliberately against my clit. He knows exactly how to rub against that tight, swollen bead, and I forget that I wanted to try and clumsily push myself onto him. This is magic.
It's not what my body thought I needed tonight.
It's better. It doesn't hurt, and it's beautiful.
The way his whole body surrounds mine makes me feel safe.
And he takes my arousal from this desperate, subconscious needy ache to a gorgeous heat that swarms my whole body.
It fills my limbs with a heaviness that feels delicious.
“Good girl,” he murmurs in my hair. “Come for me. Come on my cock. Flood me. I want to feel how wet you get for Daddy.”
I shudder. That word is beyond naughty. It takes my breath away how profoundly, deeply I want Henry to be the man who shows me everything.
Henry, who keeps me sane even as I tried to recklessly do everything in my power to seduce him. Henry—Daddy—finds all these inventive ways for us to be together without going too fast. Without me doing something he thinks I’ll regret.
Think being the operative word, because I will never, ever regret this.
I'll never regret coming apart in his arms as he whispers hot, dirty things in my ear. I don’t think it can get any better than when I shatter.
But it immediately does because Henry loses his absolute shit, gripping me so tight it almost hurts, and his hips jerk against mine.
This is what it might feel like for him to fuck me. Roughly, desperately. His heavy body slamming into mine, both of us sweaty. His words shift from coaxing, arousing sentences to selfish horny individual words. Mine. Fuck. Little. Pussy. Need.
Then my name, three times fast as he spills between my legs.
I imagine if we’d already had sex, and if I wasn't a virgin, he might shove me onto my back now. Get hard again, then push it all into me.
So many ifs to make that alternate dream a reality. If we had more time. If I wasn't going to school next week. If we met at a different time. If we weren't two different ages. If I wasn't just a teenage girl and he wasn't old enough to be my father. If he wasn't such a good man.
And if I wasn't such a horny little thing who pushed him too far, too fast.
I feel his absence keenly as he silently gets out of bed. When he gets to the doorway, I can see his face in the light from the hallway, and it’s tight with worry.
“Sorry,” I whisper when he gets back with a washcloth.
He frowns as he wipes between my legs. “For what?”
“That I started that. You were asleep.”
He shakes his head. “I was dreaming of you. Pretty sure I did that to myself, shaving this sweet little cunt. It was all I could do to not mark it up before bed.”
I suck in a breath. “Really?”
He exhales roughly. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
“I don’t know?”
“You turn me inside out, baby. I told you. I want to do bad things to you. That? That was fucking sweet. Nothing bad about that. Never be sorry for wanting to come on my hand, okay? I don't regret anything about tonight.”
“Then why is your face all tense?”
He’s smiling as he disappears again to dispose of the washcloth. But that’s not an answer to my question, and even sleepy and well screwed, I still want an answer.
When he comes back, he makes me put my panties back on.
“Is that it? Are you tense because we could have fucked in our sleep?” A slight fib about my state of consciousness.
“Yeah.”
“Would you regret it? If we just once—”
“I don't want to hurt you.”
“You won't hurt me. You can't hurt me. It might hurt, but I want that. And I want the other side of hurting. It will be amazing. I just know it will. Come on, Henry, after everything we’ve done, we can’t not do it once before I go to school.”
He sighs and kisses my forehead. “Maybe I don’t want to do it yet, because it means acknowledging that you’re leaving soon.”
“Oh.”
“I’m going to miss you, sweetheart.”
“I’ll be a few miles away.”
“Focusing on your studies.”
There’s a finality to how he says it, so I don’t argue. But before I leave for the dorms, we’re going to have to have a real talk about how I’m not giving him up.