9. LO #2
“Boring. Movies were always better. I was at the independent theater basically every weekend once I was old enough to drive.”
“The t-shirt is pretty cool.”
“Yeah, I didn’t totally hate high school, so I kept some stuff from it,” Stevie says.
“Just boring.”
Stevie nods. “Exactly.” She rolls her chair over the full five inches between us, filling the gap.
I sit still and refuse to let her see how the smell of her cologne or shampoo or whatever it is she has on is completely driving me wild.
I’m an actress; I’m supposed to be good at hiding things.
But here I am, certain that everything I’m feeling and thinking is written all over my face.
Most likely because I’m secretly hoping Stevie will notice and make a move. But I can’t admit that to myself yet.
“This is Humphreys Peak,” Stevie says, pointing to part of the illustrated design on the shirt.
She keeps her nails short and impressively well-maintained.
Despite Stevie’s generally messy appearance, it’s obvious she’s careful about her grooming.
I’ve seen the hair products she has in her backpack; the look is intentional.
And unfortunately effective in turning me on.
I look down at her hand, trying—and failing—to not get distracted by the thought of what her fingers would feel like inside of me.
“The outline of our main building,” she continues, either completely unaware of how my breath has become stilted or relishing in it. She has to know that being this close to me and not actually touching me is a form is torture.
“Mhm,” I say, the only thing I can contribute. My brain has gone radio silent otherwise, only able to think about how badly I want Stevie to kiss me.
She glances up at me through her surprisingly long eyelashes, and when our eyes meet, the air immediately changes.
It’s electric, thick in a way that makes it hard to breathe.
We’ve never been this close together, this alone.
I can see every single faint freckle dotted across her nose, the flecks of brown in her deep green eyes.
We’re quiet and perfectly still. What feels like a lifetime passes with our eyes dancing over each other’s faces and lips.
“You can kiss me.” I barely raise my voice above a fragile whisper.
I’m not a shy person, and I’m usually pretty good at reading cues on if someone is into me, so I’m not scared to say it.
But I am scared the moment will shatter in an instant, like if I talk too loudly, reality will come crashing in, and we’ll both realize this is probably a bad idea.
“Should I?” Stevie asks, her voice just as quiet.
“I want you to.” My eyes flick down to her full lips. “I really want you to.”
“But should I,” Stevie says, a little more firmly this time.
Less like a question and more like she’s considering the different possible outcomes for her actions.
Her eyes dance across my face, so full of longing.
Even though we just met earlier today, she looks at me like she’s been waiting for this moment for years. It was the same way I felt.
“Just once won’t hurt. It doesn’t have to be anything more than this. It doesn’t have to change anything.”
Her lips part, and warmth blooms between my legs. I’m practically crawling out of my skin for her.
“Just once,” Stevie breathes, her eyes locked on my mouth.
Her leg brushes against my knee, and our eyes find each other again. At the same time, Stevie leans forward in her chair, and I lean forward from the bed. Our lips find each other, soft and curious.
Stevie kisses me so gently it’s barely a whisper of anything. It feels like a true first kiss—high school style—and I like the lack of expectation. Even though we know where this is heading, she’s not afraid to take her time with me. It makes me want her even more.
She stands up from her chair and leans over me, her hands on either side of my hips. I tilt my head up and kiss her, leaning back onto the bed. I open my mouth, telling her that I want more. I’m certain I’ve never wanted this more from anyone else before.
Now that we’re here, like this, I can admit to myself just how into her I am. From the moment I first saw her, my brain and my body have slowly gone haywire. And now all that’s left is pure want. I’ve always been so into confidence and certainty, and Stevie has it in spades.
I’ve struggled in the past with always picking the wrong ones because I’m so willing to chase ego and aloofness over stability.
But the more I get to know Stevie, the more I realize that she’s different from the people I’ve been with before.
Different from what I assumed this morning when we met.
She’s not distant and cold and unfeeling; she’s careful and focused and proud of her work.
I don’t know if my judgment is clouded by the minimal amounts of niceness she’s directed at me—and the proximity and availability, if I’m being honest—but I hope I’ll have more time with her to figure her out.
Stevie slides her knee between my thighs as she lies me completely flat on the bed. My heart is beating so fast I’m sure she can feel it.
She moves from my lips to the corner of my mouth to my jawline. Even as my nails dig into her back, she takes her time. Something about her not rushing this only turns me on more.
I get completely lost in the feeling of her against me, the smell of her skin, the softness of her shirt.
I’m no stranger to something casual, but it feels different with Stevie.
I feel so connected to her, so present in the moment.
There’s not one ounce of me that’s going to wake up tomorrow and regret this.
She brings her hands up under my shirt, gently caressing over my stomach and hips. When her fingers find the hem, she pulls away. “Is this okay?” she asks, her voice low and sexy. I nearly blush at the hungry look in her eye.
“Yes,” I answer, breathless, and she pulls my shirt—or I guess, her shirt—over my head. She drops it carefully onto the floor and takes a moment to look at me laid out on the bed. My nipples immediately harden in the cold hotel air.
“God, you are so beautiful,” Stevie says, almost more to herself than to me. Her voice is just above a whisper, raspy with desire. I could listen to her say it on repeat for the rest of my life.
I pull her back down toward me, and she dips her face into my neck, her tongue gently gliding over my skin. Every nerve in my body feels like it’s on fire. I’m so ready for her, so eager.
Stevie kisses down my chest and takes one of my nipples into her mouth, carefully using her tongue and her teeth. I cry out, arching my back in response.
“Stevie,” I moan.
“I love the way you say my name,” she says with a playful smile and moves to my left nipple, driving me wild all over again. Warmth floods between my legs, and I grind my hips against her, desperate for whatever I can get. Whatever she’ll give me.
She reaches for the boxers I have on, and I lift my hips so it’ll be easier for her to slip them off. She trails her hand down my stomach until she’s just above my pubic bone.
“Can I?” she asks.
I nod—probably too enthusiastically—and Stevie positions herself on her knees on the floor.
She pulls me to the edge of the bed, trailing kisses up the insides of my thighs until I’m panting.
She puts the perfect amount of pressure on them, a buzz I’ve never experienced before exploding through me in response.
This must be what it means when people talk about having really good sex.
I’ve always been certain I’ve had it before, with an ex or a particularly giving one-night stand, but this is something else entirely.
She’s taking her time with me, making sure I feel every single sensation.
She moves from my right thigh to my slit, using her tongue to tease me open.
When she flicks her tongue against my clit, I desperately grip the sheets, gasping her name.
She puts her arms around my thighs and holds me in place, using her tongue and mouth with expert precision.
She reads every reaction perfectly—knowing exactly where to put more pressure, where to stay for just a little bit longer.
She quickly figures out what I like and what I don’t.
And then, when she figures out what I really like, she’s careful to bring me close to the edge without letting me go over.
I’m completely lost to the sensation. Everything she does just makes me want her more.
It’s hard to tell how much of the wetness between my legs is from me and how much of it is Stevie’s spit. We’ve meshed into one—a mess of moaning and gripping and wanting more, more, more.
My back bows, my eyes rolling shut, when Stevie slips a finger inside of me as she flicks her tongue against my clit. I white-knuckle the comforter, spreading my legs further apart for more. She uses one finger and then two, bringing me right up to the edge before slowing down again.
She puts her free hand to my face, gently caressing my cheek and then trailing her thumb over my mouth.
“How are you feeling?” Stevie’s voice is low and rough. If I were standing up, it would’ve been enough to make my knees weak.
I moan, unable to formulate words, and lean my face into her hand to take her fingers into my mouth.
She’s gentle at first, gauging my reaction.
I open my mouth for her, trailing my tongue over her fingers, silently begging her to keep going.
She complies, her eyes filled with the same lust that’s roaring through me like wildfire.
She moves her other hand in and out of me quicker now, her tongue flicking just as fast against my clit.
I’m wet in a way that defies science and my basic understanding of my own body.
I’d never thought of ghost hunting as a form of foreplay, but now I’m starting to think there might be something to be said for it.
She slips her finger out of my mouth and carefully wraps her hand around my neck. She knows exactly where to hold her fingers, how much pressure to apply. Just enough to make me feel light and airy, but not so much that it cuts off my air supply.
“Oh my god, I’m gonna come,” I cry out, unable to help myself.
I hope the sound doesn’t travel through the hotel walls the way I’m imagining it probably is.
There’s no way this is quiet, but a part of me doesn’t care.
If I’m only getting this once, I don’t want her second-guessing for even a moment how good she’s making me feel.
She thrusts deeper into me, my breasts bouncing from the motion. An orgasm rips through me, but I don’t have any interest in asking Stevie to stop yet.
“Fuck, Lo,” Stevie mumbles. I love watching her forearm flex as she continues fucking me. She takes her bottom lip between her teeth.
I keep my eyes locked on her. The hungry, desire-ridden expression on her face sends a wave of warmth through me all over again. Already, another orgasm starts to slowly build. “Keep going.” My voice is breathy, unrecognizable. “Please, Stevie.”
She does exactly as I ask, not changing her pace. I grip onto her hair, the sheets, whatever I can get my hands on in a futile attempt to stay grounded. I know with absolute certainty I’ve never been this turned on before. Sex in general has never felt like this with anyone before.
Despite the sexual nature of the TV show I was on, I’ve always considered myself someone who was fairly modest in bed.
I don’t normally like the vulnerability of someone seeing me naked and sprawled out.
But it’s different with Stevie; I feel hotter being so naked in front of her.
She looks at me like I’m the most amazing thing she’s ever seen.
Something almost inhuman takes over my body as I moan and writhe and cry out desperately, chasing the pleasure building inside me. She drops her head so her tongue is brushing against my clit, and I completely unravel.
“Stevie.” My toes curl and my back lifts from the bed. “Oh my god. Stevie. ”
My second orgasm is even more powerful than my first. It races through my entire body, my nerves tingling. It leaves me feeling weightless and breathless.
My skin feels so sensitive and exposed that my body tenses. Stevie slows down, easing her fingers out of me and lifting her head. She kisses up my body until she’s hovering over me, a soft smile on her face. “How are you feeling?”
I chuckle. “Incredible.” There’s no use in lying—I don’t even think I physically can after the sex we just had.
Stevie takes me into her arms. We fall back on top of the comforter, our bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. I rest my head on her chest, our arms wrapped around each other. I’m so completely at ease for what feels like the first time in forever.
“You’re incredible,” Stevie says, her voice just above a whisper. Her lips brush over my temple.
I look up at her, taking in the slope of her nose and her jaw and her surprisingly long eyelashes.
She leans back onto the pillow, her eyes closed.
I’m overwhelmed by how badly I want to kiss her, not even to initiate sex again, but just to be able to kiss her again.
The way she touches me, holds me, treats me—I’m not ready for the night to be over yet.
And I can tell immediately that I’m completely and entirely fucked.
We can only have one time. That’s it. That’s what we agreed on. Do not be the girl who agrees to just once and then gets her feelings hurt when she wants more .
But as Stevie’s hand brushes up and down my bare back, I know that can’t possibly be it. Just because we promised one time doesn’t mean only having sex one time—we can still take advantage of having the rest of the night.
I kiss Stevie’s neck, pressing my body against hers all over again. She grips my thigh, turning her head so I can reach more of her neck.
“Yeah?” she teases.
“Mhm,” I say, straddling her. I kiss up her neck to her ear. She moans, tightening her hands on my thighs.
“Come here.” She turns us over so my back is flat on the mattress again, and I giggle, letting her take me away all over again.