Eighteen
There’s no rush this time, our kisses long and lingering and exploratory.
He has me pinned to the front door of my apartment, in full view of the front-facing windows of the next building over. I’m not sure how much the shadows cover us, but surprisingly, I just don’t care. We’ve never kissed like this before, his mouth warm and languid on mine. Like we’ve done this for years. Like we could do it for a couple more. My fingers trace the stubble on his cheeks, reveling in the scratchiness. Our movements have always been frantic up until this point, afraid of running out the invisible clock above our heads. Two teenagers past curfew, ensuring every minute alone counts before we’re due back home.
It’s different with us this time, but I can hardly mark the change.
“We should probably head inside soon,” he says between kisses, but he doesn’t stop. I don’t either.
“You’re probably right,” I say against his lips, pressing my body against his.
This.
This is exactly the distraction I need, but we’ve almost become more than that. I should need him to get my mind off his brother, to forget the ache in my chest every time I see him with Alice, but Ben is the last person on my mind.
When Theo’s tongue slides between my lips, all thoughts outside of this moment evaporate. We shift until his back hits the door. One hand slides down his chest as my other reaches for the keys clipped to the strap of my purse. I try for a cool move—unlocking the door while still kissing him, inching us inside while we stay connected—but alas, I am solidly uncool. My steps falter until I fumble against his body. To make matters worse, I accidentally bite down on his lip in an unsexy way as I jam my key into the lock.
“Ow!” He pulls away, a hand raising to his mouth.
“Oh, shit!” I exclaim. “Are you bleeding? I’m so sor—”
“It’s fine, just a little sore.” He drops his hand, revealing the teeth marks on his bottom lip. Even still, he prowls closer, closing the space between us as his hands rest at my waist. “I’ve handled worse.”
An image of his torn hand comes to mind, rivulets of blood trailing down his fingers. The frown marring his
mouth and the wrinkle of skin above the space where his brows met, as if he could feel the pain even in his sleep. Yes, I suppose a bite that didn’t even pierce the skin wouldn’t be worse than that.
I unlock the front door, pull him inside, and flick on the hall light. Theo brushes past me to the couch, patting the space next to him with a smoldering look. His brows furrow when I shake my head as I walk backward from the living room. My back hits the door to my bedroom, even as my eyes stay trained on him.
“No couch,” I tell him as the door swings open. “Bed. Now.”
His smolder turns dark. “Can’t argue with that.”
We collide under the threshold, his arms wrapping around my back and molding me to him. Hands spread down my back, moving heat. Chest to chest, lips to lips, legs tangling as I walk him into the room. My hands slip from the scruff on his cheeks to his dress shirt, pulling at the fabric tucked into his slacks. Searching for skin.
His own glide under the ruffled straps of my jumpsuit, igniting every inch of skin he touches. “Is there a zipper or something on this thing?”
There isn’t, and that’s when I realize we’re about to see each other naked. A sliver of light pours in from the living room, lighting the entrance of my bedroom. Not a single shadow covers his face, and I can only assume the same is true for me. There’s no way I’m taking the jumpsuit off in front of him or letting him bear witness to any kind of awkward shuffling right before we have sex. I should’ve worn something easy. Nothing with an absurd amount of buttons down one side I have to wriggle my way out of.
Not sexy.
I’m about to say I’ll be right back, opting to change in the bathroom, when he begins unbuttoning his shirt. Slowly, with a confidence in what he has to offer that I’ve never once possessed. He takes a seat at the edge of the bed and kicks off his shoes. When the shirt is finally off, I’m rewarded with a stunning view of his upper body. Curved arm muscles, hard abdominals, defined pecs. My breath comes in pants, until I’m practically salivating. Built like a god, indeed. If I were an artist, I’d immortalize him in marble. The plaque would read, Viewers, be wary. They say even the eyes of angels burn from gazing at this glorious physique.
Theo’s eyes stay trained on mine, an evil, knowing smirk on his lips as one hand settles on the zipper of his slacks and the other rests at the top button. He stands up and in one fluid motion, the pants fall from his body and pool at his feet.
“Wow.” Desire flushes my cheeks, even as a wave of shame and embarrassment crashes over me. “Okay. Wow.”
I’m out of words. His eyes go black and hooded as he prowls toward me, the last fully dressed person in the room. And then, the thought I’ve been pushing to the back of my brain for weeks comes raging forward.
How could a guy who looks like that possibly want me?
My vision goes blurry. I’ve held off for this long, telling myself that none of it was real. Just a distraction to get us through what we need to get through, and a show we put on for the world to project the place we want to be. Once he’s done using me to get over Alice, we’ll go our separate ways. Of course I’d never be able to pull a guy like him. I know that. He doesn’t really want me, but the escape I can provide him. It almost doesn’t matter that he’d never date a girl my size otherwise.
“Hey.” His voice has gone soft, hands gently cupping my cheeks. My eyes sting with tears I’m desperately trying to blink away. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”
“Nothing.” God, even my voice gives me away. I can barely get out the one word over the lump in my throat. I shake my head, forcing myself to clear the thoughts away. “Hold on a second. I’ll just go change in the bathroom—”
“Marcela.” He tugs on my arm as I try to turn away, his hands gripping my shoulders to hold me in place. “We’re not gonna do this when you’re upset. Talk to me.”
I blink a few more times until I can see clearly, as if that’ll prove him wrong. Finally, I sit down at the edge of my bed with a sigh. He fills the space next to me, an arm wrapping around my shoulders.
“I’m not… like you.” I choke on the explanation, trying to force the words out before I lose my nerve. “I mean, look at you. There’s not an inch of fat on your body, is there?”
“Thanks to the rigid diet and exercise routines courtesy of the team manager. The day I quit, I had my first piece of cheesecake in years. Years.” He emphasizes this fact with a groan.
“Listen, this is the most nerve-racking part of dating for me,” I tell him. “I don’t want you to… get your hopes up for what my body will look like.”
Oh, god.
I sound like my fourteen-year-old self, furiously going through each article of clothing in my closet the night before high school. Pinching at the baby fat in my cheeks and the handles at my sides. Of course, when I look back at pictures of myself from back then, I wonder how I could have ever thought I was ugly.
“Get my hopes up,” he repeats, expression stormy. “Because other guys have gotten their hopes up and been let down? Is that what you’re saying?”
I nod, unable to look at him. There have been people who cringed when they got their first glimpse of my body, and then played it off so they could still get some. Part of me is glad Ben and I broke up before we could cross that point, even if I still wonder what his reaction would’ve been. Maybe it’s better I don’t know.
“I guess I’ve just always had a hard time feeling sexy.” It’s easier talking to him like this, looking down at our feet instead of at him. Even still, the side of my face is warm from the weight of his eyes. “I’m probably a downgrade compared to the other women you’ve been with.”
“Marcela…” His voice raises in alarm.
“I promise I’m not always this insecure,” I say in a rush, heart racing from the sudden note in his voice. A downgrade? God, what a crappy way to feel about myself. It’s not even necessarily how I feel about myself, but what I expect someone like Theo to feel about me. On my best day, like the one I was having until it came time to undress, I know my worth. I know what I deserve. But I’ve been with too many guys who never came close.
“You’re the most conventionally attractive guy I’ve ever been with, casual or otherwise, and I just got scared that this was about to become… real.”
“Look at me.” His voice is as soft as I’ve ever heard it, but I still hesitate a beat before I do so. He smooths back the curls from my face, and I can’t help but lean into the touch. “Did you already forget the way I looked at you before we left your apartment tonight?”
A flush of warmth, sudden and all consuming, heats my skin at the memory. It’s a lot like the way he’s looking at me right now, but it’s also a softer expression. His thumb brushes the side of my mouth before his eyes settle there.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t find you unbelievably sexy.” His voice is a low growl, and my insides coil with anticipation. And then his mouth is on mine, rough and wild with need.
“If you need me…” His kisses move down my jaw…
“To show you…” My throat.
“How much…” My neck.
“I want you…”
I let out a gasp.
“That can be arranged.” His smirk turns devilish. “Starting with getting you out of this jumpsuit.”
He motions for me to stand up, and after a slight bit of hesitation, I do. The way he leans back on his elbows, giving me a view of his sculpted body, is all the encouragement I need to get out of this contraption as fast as humanly possible. I undo the buttons under my right armpit, sliding the ruffled sleeves off my arms. The fabric is a bit tight over my stomach, so I do some sucking in as I slide it down my torso. I wince slightly as it comes down my hips, forcing myself not to imagine how my awkward shuffling must look in Theo’s eyes. But when I chance a look at his face, my eyes don’t make it past the noticeable bulge in his boxer briefs.
My mouth lifts in a smirk of my own. Once the jumpsuit is off, his hands are on me, pulling me back down onto the bed. His body covers mine as he pins my wrists on either side of my head. He kisses down my neck again, then travels to the curve of my shoulder and my heaving chest. My hand tangles in his hair as I try to calm my breathing. One of his trails the space between the cups of my bra, his lips featherlight on the top of my cleavage.
“Front clasp,” he notes, flashing teeth. He unhooks it with a quick flick of his wrist, my breasts filling his hands in no time. “God bless.”
I let out an embarrassingly loud moan when his thumbs circle my peaked nipples. The motion sends hot signals straight to my core, desire pooling in my most sensitive places. My hands tug on his hair, and I’m rewarded with a sound of his own leaving his lips. I lift my knees up to his sides, inching myself closer. But he’s too tall, and there are too many inches of space between our bodies for my liking.
I lose my train of thought when his tongue is added to the mix, circling one nipple before sucking. A shaky breath is dragged from my lungs, more of a pant than a moan. His other hand pinches my other nipple in time with his mouth, and this time I do moan. Loudly. And then again when his mouth replaces his hand. Perfect, head-spinning symmetry. Then his head moves lower, kisses trailing down my torso, until he rests between my spread legs.
“Condoms?”
“Nightstand. First drawer,” I tell him, motioning my head to the left. He pulls open the drawer, retrieving the wrapped foil. My brows crease when he sets it down on the bed beside me, but when his hand dips low inside my panties, I let out another involuntary moan.
“Shit, babe.” His voice is raspy, lips hovering just below my ear. “I thought it was gonna take you longer to get this wet.”
I don’t say a word, because I’m physically incapable of speaking. His fingers work in slow circles over my clit, teasing in the most excruciating way possible. My next groan is one of utter sexual frustration. His hand either needs to go faster, or I need him inside me for this ache to ease. He lets out a chuckle, as if torturing me amuses him.
“Theo,” I breathe as his fingers work faster, but not nearly as fast as I need him. “God, you’re such a tease.”
He lets out a breathy laugh at that, leaning down to kiss me. His tongue slides against mine before immediately dipping out and leaving me high and dry. I let out another frustrated groan, burying my face in the pillow to resist a full-blown scream. He only laughs harder at my suffering.
“So needy, Marcela,” he chides. “What am I gonna do with you?”
“Fuck me so hard I forget my own name and yours, I hope.”
I had no idea I could be so crass, but until now, I never knew I could be this sexually frustrated, either.
“I must not be doing this properly if you’re still capable of complete sentences,” he says, and it’s my turn to laugh this time. His hand leaves my center, dragging my soaking panties down my legs until they’re completely off. He eases himself between my spread legs, his body inching down until his face is right there, and every muscle in my body coils with wild anticipation.
Is he going to…?
“Let’s rectify that, shall we?”
“Oh god!” The words leave my mouth of their own accord when he kisses the folds of my pussy, spreading them open with his tongue. Another flick of his tongue, and I’m seeing stars. I close my eyes, the image of him between my legs too much to bear. But he’s not going to let me off the hook that easy.
“Open your eyes, Marcela.”
I do, and it’s too much. His smirk is cocky, eyes shining with mischief as he licks up my clit, holding my gaze. I moan again, rocking my hips into his face for more. Good god, when did I become this person? It’s embarrassing how much I need this. He reaches up to hold my hips in place, his tongue working in fast circles right where I’m aching for him most. My hands clutch at the sheets for purchase, knuckles turning white until the orgasm crashes over me, leaving me shaking.
I doubt I’ll ever be able to look him in the face properly again. My bones are liquefied. My limbs have turned to jelly, and I’m quite sure my body temperature will never regulate with him around. And we haven’t even had sex yet.
But that’s about to change—thank god—very soon. He reaches for the condom beside my head, ripping through the foil and covering himself in one smooth motion. “Are you comfortable like this? I don’t wanna smother you.”
I feel as though he might in this position, but I’ve also never been confident in my body enough to be on top. He’s made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he wants me, and not despite or because of my size. Ever since we started this whole arrangement, he’s made me feel desired in a way I never have before. As if sensing my hesitation, he adds, “We can just try it out. If you’re uncomfortable in any way, we’ll stop.”
Maybe it’s the softness of his eyes or the caring in his expression, but I nod. He rolls us over until I’m on top of him, and he helps guide our bodies together. Once I settle over him, I let out a moan at the feel of him. I didn’t think I’d
be able to start up again so soon, but the new position allows for more control, to feel him more deeply inside me. My hands settle on his hips as I sink myself down, painstakingly slow, until we’re both wincing.
Slowly, I begin to move my hips up and down. He lets out a groan, hands gripping my ass to help my movements quicken. Oh god, the friction is almost enough to drive me over the edge, but his hand reaches down to circle my clit in fast, unforgiving movements.
I can’t take it. The orgasm hits fast and hard, my shaking legs unable to hold me upright anymore. His hand settles at the small of my back to roll us over, and Theo takes control. He uses his elbow to hold himself up so he’s not completely crushing me, and his hips resume movement. Did I… there’s no way I could’ve possibly finished before him. Did I just have my first multiple orgasm moment?
I’m still reeling from this revelation when the pressure starts to build all over again. My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into the tender flesh. He lets out a hiss, but I can’t tell if it’s from pleasure or pain. Then I look up at his face as his body starts to shake, as his eyes roll to the back of his head. Definitely pleasure. But even though he just finished, he also started something again I’m aching to complete.
“Tell me what you want, Marcela.” I shiver at his lips on my ear, his hot breath on my skin awakening my senses. Maybe he felt me squirming against him, but however he can tell without me having to say, I’m grateful. “My hand or my mouth again?”
“Let’s see if your hand can redeem itself,” I say, because I’m not sure I can take the sight of his head between my legs twice in one night. He complies, pulling out of me as his fingers find my clit.
I’m right at the edge when his voice is in my ear again. “I love watching you come apart.”
“Yeah?” I’ve never heard my voice this ragged before.
“Yes.” His hand works faster. “God, Marcela. How has no one snatched you up yet?” His breathing is heavy, voice shaky. “How are you all mine?”
I freeze up. The question douses me in ice water until I’m close to drowning.
How has no one snatched you up yet?
Ben’s face is branded in my mind, and then behind my eyelids as I squeeze my eyes shut. Those warm hazel eyes, that shy smile reserved for me. And then, the face morphs into one that’s become even more familiar to me. Hazel to dark blue, shy to devilish. Strong jaw, ash blond hair, until it’s Theo’s face I can’t shake from my mind.
How are you all mine?
“Marcela?” His voice is a question, and it’s only now that I notice he’s stopped moving. My eyes flutter open, his face filling my vision. Closer than I remember. “Are you okay?”
“Sorry.” I start to sit up. “I just got caught up in my thoughts.”
“Don’t apologize,” he says, shifting away to give me room to breathe. “Do you… wanna talk about it?”
“What?” I croak.
“What you were thinking about,” he clarifies. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
I shake my head.
“Okay,” he says. I turn the word over in my head for traces of emotion. Is he mad? Is he disappointed?
“Do you want me to leave?”
I hesitate a beat, and then I shake my head again. His chest falls as he exhales, like he was holding his breath. “I want you to stay,” I say, not sure if I’m being fair to him. Not when I just realized something that might change things between us from here on.
“Good.” He pulls me into his arms and runs a hand through my hair. I close my eyes, lulled by the soothing strokes as his fingers work through my curls. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He throws the wrinkled duvet over our bodies. My head rests in the crook of his shoulder. I count his breaths in my head, marking the times his chest rises and falls beneath my hand. Children count sheep. Adults count their lover’s breathing. One… two… three…
How are you all mine?
How, indeed.