32 is this what it feels like to believe in a higher power?
32
is this what it feels like to believe in a higher power?
Ava
‘ God ,’ he says, voice a rasp as he presses me against the bookshelf, urgently kissing along my jaw, down my throat, across my chest, all while his hand finds its way between my thighs.
‘I didn’t know you believed in that kind of thing.’ My breath catches when his fingers drag across the lace in a slow, precise rhythm.
His darkened eyes bore into mine as he increases the pressure, and then he leans closer, warm breath fanning across my face. ‘I’ll get on my knees, Ava.’ His lips brush the shell of my ear. ‘But it won’t be for God.’
A shiver runs through me and all I can say is a breathy, ‘Prove it.’
I don’t let him decide what to do next, instead threading my fingers through his hair and pushing his head downward, and his quiet laugh fizzes across my skin. My entire body pulls taut as he presses his lips against my chest, down my stomach, until he’s on his knees, dragging his mouth from one bare hip to the other.
And then he loops two of his fingers into my underwear and pulls it to the side, and I guess now he has proof of how much I want him, because he releases a throaty sound before making contact with his tongue, immediately working some kind of magic with careful, practised strokes that send me into a squirming, heavy-bellied stupor.
‘You’re still wearing all your clothes,’ I accuse, somehow getting the words out despite the havoc he’s wreaking between my legs.
‘One of us has to have some decorum around here.’ He pulls me closer and one of my hands digs into his hair to keep his head in place, to keep that heat bubbling beneath the surface. ‘Is this okay?’
‘Very okay,’ I manage, and his eyes wrinkle at the sides when he glances up, never breaking the steady contact of his mouth against me. He must have the codes to every pleasure centre in my brain; each swipe of his fingers and glide of his tongue a password that unlocks the parts of me that feel like chaos and bliss and delirium all in one.
He lifts my right leg to hook it over his shoulder, angling me towards him, and a whimper escapes me as he buries his head further between my thighs, the damp heat of his tongue making me writhe.
When he slides a finger inside me, I clench around him and whisper, ‘One more.’
Immediately, he adds a second finger, and my whole body shakes with every movement he makes. When I roll my hips into him, he makes a low noise that consequently makes me make a noise, and I laugh to myself, because this feels like some weird, unholy echo chamber.
People are still yelling in the other room, and I thank whatever higher power exists that everyone is drunk and apparently extremely competitive about Articulate, because the sounds that spill out of me are absolutely not for public consumption. They weren’t meant to be for Finn’s consumption either, but it’s hard to remember that when my brain is getting more nebulous with every passing second.
Yet, despite all he’s doing right, I don’t want to be patient. Not after how long I’ve needed this.
I detach myself to stretch an arm to my bedside table, fumble with something in the drawer, and practically launch the purple object at Finn’s head in my eagerness for him to have it. I manage to get out a ragged, ‘This’ll be faster.’
‘You know best,’ he murmurs. Before I know it, he’s pressed the button and lit the fuse, and where each sensation was warm and fuzzy before, now everything is pure electricity, and I can’t focus on anything but letting the pressure expand within me.
Still on his knees, he peppers me with delicate kisses while his hands are occupied, pressing his lips against my stomach, my hips, my thighs, and it’s so intimate for such a frenetic moment that it takes my breath away.
He pulls back and his voice is thick when he says, ‘Look at me.’
Heavy lids part to find his eyes, the echoes of a laugh forever etched into the skin around them. Briefly, my ecstasy-addled brain wonders what it would be like to see this face on a pillow next to mine every morning. But the heavy feeling beneath my stomach is building to a crescendo, threatening to launch me out into the atmosphere, and the thought drifts away.
‘ Supernova! ’ someone shouts from the other room.
‘ Asteroid! ’
Finn’s mouth takes over at the last second, his tongue bringing me over the finish line, and then I’m floating up, up and out, vainly grabbing at anything to tether me to this spot, to keep me from disappearing. I’m grateful when, from the depths of oblivion, I feel strong hands holding me, his steady presence bringing me down to Earth.
‘ Meteor! ’
That’s me , I think. A shooting star burning up in the atmosphere, scorching a trail through the sky. At least if I make impact, I’ll go out with a bang.
I lean against Finn, breathing heavily, one hand on his shoulder and the other knotted into his hair, until I hear Josie’s voice call out from the other room and it shocks me back to the very real, very inappropriate present. ‘Ava, it’s our turn next, are you coming?’
Finn looks up at me and I notice red crescent-shaped marks on his skin where the neckline of his shirt has shifted. He whispers, ‘Are you coming, Ava? Or did you alre—’
‘Shut up ,’ I hiss. I push off against the bookcase as he gets to his feet, handing me the T-shirt I discarded a few minutes ago. I shove it over my head and open my door a crack to yell, ‘I’ll be one minute!’
I close it and when I turn back around, I catch Finn twirling the toy in his hand with a grin. I grab it from him with a quiet squawk and hide it under my duvet, brain too much of a puddle to deal with it right now.
‘I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I just remembered I got up to pee forever ago.’ He pushes his sleeves further up his arms, entirely too pleased with himself. ‘Got sidetracked.’
I make the mistake of looking down. By the time my eyes find their way back up to his face, he’s looking at me with one of those obscene half-smiles of his. I swallow hard and ask, ‘You don’t want, uh, any help with that?’
‘Pissing? I can probably manage.’ I try to glare at him but my mind is still fuzzy and, infuriatingly, it probably comes out more like heart-eyes instead. I step into new shorts that are a perfectly adequate length, and then Finn catches me by the arm and slides a scrunchie from my dresser on to my wrist as he says, ‘Since I have no doubt your brain will be going a million miles an hour and you’ll be spending the rest of tonight relentlessly tying and untying your ponytail.’
It suddenly occurs to me how much of a mess I must look, so I step away, craning my neck to look in the mirror. While I’m smoothing my hair, I catch his eye in the reflection to say, ‘I’m sorry this was, you know, one-sided.’
‘I’m not.’ He folds his arms as he leans against my chest of drawers, and I don’t know if it’s his smug expression, the smouldering heat in his eyes, or the way his biceps push against his sleeves in this position, but I have to tamp down every urge that’s begging me to go for round two. ‘You can help next time.’
‘What makes you so sure there’s going to be a next time?’
‘The same reason I knew there would be a first time.’
The self-satisfied smirk on his face makes me want to scream, so I stand up straight and leave him in my bedroom without another look.
When I settle back into my seat on the living room floor after downing a glass of water in the kitchen and then giving in and pouring myself a rosé, Josie whispers something in Alina’s ear.
‘Have you seen Finn?’ Rory asks. ‘Did he go out to grab more drinks with your brother?’
‘Dunno. There’s a light on in the bathroom, though.’ I don’t want people to suspect anything, so I add, ‘Maybe the sambuca’s caught up with him.’