Lace
I could kiss Darren Steele forever. I really could.
But I don’t only want to kiss him. I want to let my fingers get tangled in his brown curls, which I never thought much about before, but they’re soft and silky and excellent for leverage, though I don’t think I can bring him any closer.
I want to let my hands glide over his torso, discovering the ridges of his muscles and the way the chain around his neck rests on a dusting of hair on his chest.
I feel his absence when he pulls away, but his lips immediately find the side of my neck, this little spot beneath my earlobe that legit makes me purr.
“You like that?”
I can’t tell if he’s being cocky or checking in, but I nod and lean my head away to give him better access.
While his lips send shivers down my spine, one of his hands gently massages my breast, not like it’s a car horn he wants to honk – which has happened to me before – but like he’s exploring something delicate, using my whimpers to know when to go faster or slower, when to squeeze or tease, which is good because I have no idea anymore, I just know it feels amazing.
His other hand travels down, past my stomach, until he stops between my thighs.
“Do you mind if I—”
“Oh God, please do.” I lift my pelvis and some part of me thinks I should be embarrassed for being so eager, but his fingers are like magic, and the way he’s looking at me, with lust but also like he’s worried I’ll disappear…it’s intoxicating.
He smiles as he pulls down my panties, kissing the insides of my thighs as he makes his way back up, leaving one kiss on my mound before a bunch of tiny ones on my stomach, covering it in goosebumps as he slips his finger inside me, swallowing my moan with a kiss.
“Stop being so perfect,” I ask him, but I don’t really mean it, I just can’t believe it can be like this. Where someone is so in tune with me – and my body – that instead of chasing a release that’s slipping away, I’m squirming because it’s too much, too good, and I don’t know if I can take it.
“I’m not,” Darren argues, but then he kisses me again and adds another finger, and nothing has felt like this before.
It’s slow, intimate and intense all at once.
The sounds he coaxes from me are ones I don’t think I’ve ever made, and I’m not putting them on…
I don’t think I could stop them if I tried.
When he kisses my hip, or that spot just above my clavicle…Before I can even ask him to stop or go faster or do anything, he’s already doing it. Like he can read my mind, only it’s my body.
My heart.
It’s everything.
My moans get louder, and I’m panting like I just ran a marathon as he brings me closer to orgasm, his thumb gently circling my clit while his fingers pump into me in a slow, purposeful rhythm that’s driving me crazy.
I try to silence myself with the side of my hand, but short of biting hard enough to pierce skin, I can’t stop it.
“Don’t, I want to hear you,” Darren says, then he looks me in the eye, which should be weird and uncomfortable, but seeing his face, watching him enjoy it as I fall apart, brings me the best orgasm I’ve had with another person.
“Oh, fuck, Lace,” he says before kissing me, and I’m so lost in the aftershock that I’m biting his bottom lip, my hands exploring his taut muscles, and all I want is to do it again, but for him to come undone with me.
“I want you,” I tell him, though it’s torture to keep his lips off me long enough for him to understand what I’m saying.
He searches my face for any uncertainty.
“Are you sure you—”
“Positive,” I say as we lock eyes, then I pull him to me for a kiss before he can ask again.
Because I am. The idea that this could ruin us, that we won’t be able to go back to friends…
it’s terrifying. And if I was just horny and turned on, I would put an end to it.
Immediately. Because I value our friendship way more than sex, even if it is mind-blowing.
But this feels different. Like I’m on the precipice of something incredible and all I have to do is be brave enough to jump and believe he’ll catch me.
Which I do. I feel safe and empowered and I want this.
I want Darren.
I have never felt more alive, more loved, more…cherished than I do right now in his arms, and I don’t want to lose this.
When I finally let him come up for air, he rolls over and gets a condom from his bag. I help him take off his sweatpants, then he puts the condom on while kissing me, one hand bringing me awfully close to a second orgasm before I feel him at my entrance.
He knows better than to ask again, but he looks in my eyes and waits until I nod before he pushes in, filling me inch by delicious inch, and I have never felt so complete.
“Is this—”
I nod in response, but I’m gasping for air as he starts to move inside me.
He kisses me, which should make breathing harder, but it’s like he’s the oxygen I’m struggling for.
I tangle my fingers in his hair as he drives into me, lifting my leg over his shoulder so he can go deeper. His lips on mine are the only thing stopping me from crying out in ecstasy. I’m so close as he pumps into me, bringing me to the edge.
He presses his thumb to my clit, and I see stars.
“Oh my God!” I try to shake my head at the cocky grin on his face from making me come so hard, but his abs are clenched so tight that I just pull him closer as he thrusts and I’m the one smirking as he comes undone inside me.
“Fuck, Lace, you’re perfect,” he manages once he catches his breath.
“I know better than to listen to anything you say after sex.”
“That’s during sex,” he specifies, so I motion to how he’s still inside me, resting on his arms so I won’t be crushed by 200lbs of muscle. I regret it immediately when he carefully pulls out and rolls over to dispose of the condom.
I don’t think I can move, which would be an issue, except for I don’t want to.
This is where I would usually make some excuse about an early morning so I could go home and sleep in my own bed, without someone snoring beside me, but the threat of a UTI is the only reason I even get up to pee before coming back to the bed, where Darren lifts the sheets so I can cuddle into him.
I throw a leg over his and rest my head on his chest. This should feel awkward, or heavy with pressure, because it’s Darren.
But that’s the thing.
It’s Darren.
So even though I know we should talk about this and make sure we agree on what it means, I feel so safe and cared for with him holding me like I’m precious, that I drift off to sleep before he even turns out the lights.