Chapter 15 #2
“You're thinking of ending your life!” I said, louder than intended. My agitation found him on the floor, Bonny nearby.
His eyes—just his eyes—moved to the door for a split second.
“I'm a little down.”
“Do you feel any better now that I'm here?” I dared to ask.
His eyes lifted from Bonny—digging through the material of his t-shirt, the one she'd inherited as bedding—to mine.
My teeth sank into my lip, awaiting his answer. His response, so slow, it grated against each of my nerves and fears.
Before I knew it, he was off the floor, the diary replacing him there.
“Much.” He pulled me into his chest. I listened to the rhythm of his heart vibrating against his bones.
I looked up at him, and his throat bobbed, swallowing pain. It looked even bigger from this angle.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered, less authentically than all his other apologies. When I looked at him, wonderment on my face as I pondered what exactly he was sorry for, he told me, “I didn't cover.”
“I don't care.” I raised onto my knees. My fingers braced his cheeks, my lips grazing his.
“I told you I don't care. This. . .” A delicate touch slid down his face, to his throat.
. . my other hand moved in the opposite direction, to his head.
“And all that goes on in here. None of it takes away from what's in here. . .” Both of my hands met above his heart. “Your heart is pure. And I love that. I love you. . . no matter what. Please, don’t leave me that way.”
"I love you," he mouthed, as if the words physically pained him, his lips against mine, begging for kisses to make the pain stop.
I leaned in, and I let him kiss me, opening my mouth for his tongue.
A second later, I pulled back to hear him say, “I won’t kill myself. I’m just struggling to live with myself.”
“You’re hurting. Me, too. Make the pain stop. Please, make the pain stop.”
I didn't have to tell him what pain. His head and heart felt every throe mine did. His pangs of guilt were as harsh as my memories. But I had to tell him how to do it, because he wouldn't, not without permission.
“I need you to touch me. I need you to change my memories of you and sex. And I need for it to feel good. Soft, gentle. . . I need to feel love.”
He froze, as if I'd asked him to burn the world for me. His gaze flitting to me. Devastation and an unsaid apology sat in a sea of silver. Flecks of sapphire standing out, emphasizing the beauty above me as he guided me back.
His soft pillow welcomed my head.
I tried to relax as he roamed above me, fingers pushing buttons through tiny holes and peeling my clothes from my body.
“I have no idea what I'm doing.” His eyes locked on my face, moving from my naked chest, rising and falling with the tension in the room.
“Just do what you think would feel good. It doesn't have to be full stuff.”
“Okay.”
He lay down with me, pulling me onto my side. I turned my head, accepting the kiss he delivered. His hands, nervous and shaky, moved to my hair. He pulled me in, long fingers weaving through my hair, deepening the kiss.
His hand trailed down my neck, and I shuddered.
My skin tingled, my nipples peaked, and my heart raced.
His fingers explored my body, his kiss breaking off for a second, as he needed to claim his breath.
His mouth, back on mine as the second passed.
His tongue moved past my lips, massaging mine.
I lifted my hands to his face, pulling him closer.
I didn’t feel scared. He didn’t feel controlling.
I felt safe.
I tugged at the hem of his tee, a silent request to remove it, to be vulnerable and naked, with me.
And he did, carefully dragging it over his head and tossing it to the floor. No doubt, it would be stolen in seconds by a furry thief. Neither of us looked to see, but she, his small companion, had, in fact, stolen it.
Woodrow returned to my side but altered my position. Another kiss landed on my mouth, on my jaw, down my neck as he shifted over me. I lay on my back, arching as his hot mouth moved to a nipple, his fingers finding the other one.
Pretty eyes found me again, a last request for permission, granted with a lowly nod before he sucked me into his mouth.
His hardness brushed my leg, his hips thrusting forward to show me his need. He sucked hard, the moan rumbling in his throat making the sensation all the more pleasurable.
I bit down on my lip to stop any noise, because I knew it would be loud enough to disturb the house with everyone silent.
His tongue smeared my pointed nipple. A thick, wet trailed smeared up my breast. A kiss above my heart. “Only remember this time. Let me change how my touch feels to you.” Another kiss upon my chest set my heart racing.
His hands gripped at the material of my green satin shorts, but they wouldn't give, clutching to the thickness of my hips.
He tried and tried until their fabric gave way, ripping down the side.
“Oh, shit.”
“It's fine, just get them off,” I breathed out the words. “I'll just say my chubby self ripped them getting them on.”
“Don't do that. Don't speak that way about yourself. You're perfect. So fucking perfect.”
His mouth was back on me—back on the breasts I'd always thought of as too small—delivering sensual kisses to my skin that peaked with excitement.
I kicked free of my shorts, lying naked beneath him.
And he did the same, using his hands and legs to push down his sweats.
His hand moved over my body, sliding up my parted thighs.
His hips rocked again, his erection harder than his bones, both of which dug into my leg.
His fingers reached the apex of my thighs, soft skin kissed the tips with its wetness.
With his hand still between my legs, a single finger circling my entrance, his mouth moved to mine—already hungry for another of his kisses.
Already eager, just like the rest of me, as my hips bucked up slightly.
He pushed his finger inside me slowly, so very slowly, as our tongues met, dancing between our mouths.
I broke off the kiss as his finger moved in and out of me—shallow, then deep, just like his kiss—to tell him, “Like that. Just like that.”
My hips lifted again, his finger getting wetter and wetter, giving him the confidence to insert another as our lips met again.
“What's this?” He broke off the kiss, fingers catching on a bump inside me.
“I d-d-don't kn-know,” I stuttered as his fingers, with slight added pressure, rubbed over the unknown ridge again.
“Do you like it when I rub it?” he asked, his voice close to my ear.
A suckle on my lobe as I nodded. Another rub.
A noise began sounding between my legs, the wetness slurping down on his fingers. Moans danced on my tongue—a Charleston I couldn't keep up with. I tried to keep them hushed.
I felt a tightening in my stomach, in my core, and then I felt saturated.
My moans got louder as my climax hit, muffled by Woodrow's mouth, as he moved back to mine and swallowed them all.
He didn't stop, even as my body drenched his hand. He continued until I went limp, his hardness still jabbing into my thigh, long legs wrapped around mine.
It took a minute for my shaking to subside, and then I pushed him back, lying him down on the bed, wobbling into a semblance of balance between his legs.
I touched him through his underwear, enjoying the feel of him, adjusting the memories in my head, and altering them forever. Before having to see the part of him that caused me pain. It wouldn't be like that when I pulled him free. Touching him would be the action to set me free.
My hand moved to his shaft. He twitched under my touch, like his cock wanted more of my hand. I leaned over him, gentle kisses starting at his stomach, moving up to his shoulders, to his throat, causing him to panic. He stopped breathing. But my touch was gentle, loving.
“I won't hurt you. I promise.”
His eyes fluttered closed, giving me undying trust. Giving permission. I kissed, suckling lightly, praying he felt acceptance, love, and absolutely no pain.
I felt his cock twitch again, then a warmth. Something hot and sticky coated my palm as it seeped through his shorts.
“Shit. Oh, shit!” He jumped up, almost head-butting me off the bed. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That wasn't meant to happen.” His hands rushed to his crotch, concealing the reason for the embarrassment that had brought a pretty shade of pink to his cheeks. “I'm sorry. . .”
“Woodrow,” I spoke softly, leaning in. “It's okay. . . it happens.”
“You're not mad? Not disappointed?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Just a little cold now that the moment has passed.” My nipples confirmed, brushing against his naked chest.
“I'll get you something.” He rushed from the bed, his drawers open in seconds. He scanned through the clothes and decided on another tee with a band logo. He tossed it to me, looking almost sad as I hid my body behind my hands because my confidence left the bed the same time he did.
“You look amazing. You don't need to hide.”
I slipped under the covers, leaving the t-shirt atop the sheets. “We could always sleep this way?”
The embarrassment left his face, pushed away by a genuine smile. “Sounds good.” He dropped the clean boxers he was holding back into the drawer, and he didn't bother to close it. He dipped below the covers, waiting until the sheets hid him to strip bare.
I turned on my side, ass niggling into his groin as he shifted into position to spoon me.
His genitals, so close to mine, brought a little fear hiking to my chest, but I swallowed it back as he kissed my shoulder with loving lips. I breathed deeply, relaxing as his arm locked around me.
“Love this. Love you,” he mouthed against my skin.
I held on to him, my fingers pulling his hand to my heart. “You're the reason I'm happy this is still beating.”
He kissed me again, and a silent moment later, we were both asleep.