Chapter 34 Colorblind #3
body shuddering as he comes.
I can feel it in the way he shakes.
In the heat pulsing out of him.
In the way he falls into me,
shoulders curling between my thighs.
His body’s got nowhere else to go but into mine.
Helpless, but he licks through it, still starving.
I'm trembling,
catching fire from the outside in.
An orgasm crawls up—
scared to leave, desperate to stay—
not wanting him to stop or pull back.
“Drew—” I can’t breathe around it.
My body’s on the edge of coming or crying.
Then his mouth slides away,
and he kisses along the outline of me,
tongue tracing the crease, from thigh to lip,
teasing the edges with a slow halo of wet heat,
buying himself time,
letting me come down a notch.
“Piano… piano… fammi restare…”
He spills the words into my skin,
and my heaving chest stutters into steady.
Then his mouth’s crawling back to me,
all lips, teeth, tongue.
The climbing orgasm never left.
It just crouched low, waiting,
ready to pounce the second he started again.
My mind’s going fuzzy.
My fingers rake his thick hair.
His gaze drifts up and crashes into mine—
half-lidded eyes, mouth wet—
and he sucks me into his mouth,
dripping, addicted.
Another moan rips out of me,
fingers sinking into his neck.
He reaches back, finds my hand,
laces his fingers, pressing mine into skin,
spreading his mouth over my pussy—
scorching breath steaming.
His gaze drags back down my body—
my chest, my stomach, watching me heave—
until they’re closing, and he sucks low,
gathering the slick in long, drawn-out pulls,
smears it over my clit.
The heat doesn’t stay where his tongue is.
It moves,
fills me,
curls through my veins,
drips down my limbs.
Like warm teeth raking across every nerve-ending behind my clit, seeping hot from the center out.
It's as if he’s writing his name inside me with his tongue, wants to leave pieces of himself behind no one else can erase.
“Fuck,” I gasp.
It’s all I can say. All I can do.
My hips chase his mouth in fucking waves—
swelling,
cresting,
crashing.
A hot current slides through my bloodstream.
An orgasm sneaking its way around every bone,
building with every heavy sweep,
gradually,
insidiously.
Creeping, curling, tightening.
Until after one more deep stroke…
One more shift of my hips…
After the smallest brush of my clit against his tongue…
And I’m pushed over the edge.
The orgasm doesn’t crash—it floods.
White-hot pleasure drags me under, and I’m forced to hold my breath.
He doesn’t stop,
doesn’t rush,
doesn’t slow as the orgasm becomes me.
He holds me in his mouth,
feeling me beat against his tongue,
his lips brushing the pulse of my clit.
Then his mouth falls open wider,
licking me gentle, licking me leisurely,
as I ride the edge over and over.
He doesn't chase anything,
just wants me close,
his mouth full of me,
feeling me,
tasting me,
smelling me.
And in that moment,
I’m nothing but this feeling.
I’m lost in it, completely surrendered to it.
Disoriented and trying to catch my breath.
Andrew lies his head against the inside of my thigh.
I can feel him breathing,
his heart beating,
his chest heaving.
And I’m lying here,
naked,
ripped open,
needing him inside me.
Not to come again, but to be closer.
This ache for it comes out of nowhere,
feeling ancient.
It wraps around me.
Hits me.
Hammers.
Chest tight.
Goosebumps.
Throat closes up.
And I can’t breathe.
An Angel-ache, I decide.
Not because it feels good.
'Cause it hurts like a grieving guitar solo.
A feeling way too deep to belong to me,
attacking the wrong person.
It doesn’t give a shit if I want it or not.
It’s here anyway.
A painful hollow. A scream with no sound.
My body begging to be full of him,
to stop the empty echo.
The climax isn’t relief, it’s vacancy,
a hole in my ribcage crying for him.
He’s still down there,
lazy licks, breathing me in,
as though the thought of pulling away
makes him sick.
I lift upright,
raw and wrecked and desperate for him.
When he looks up,
his eyes are wet and glazed and high.
Soon as they crash into mine,
there’s nowhere to hide.
His eyes say I’m not leaving.
Mine say Not tonight.
His say Not ever.
Mine say
…Fuck.
A second hangs in the stare.
I break first, taking his head into my hands,
dragging his wet lips to mine—
kissing him hard,
the taste of me still on his tongue.
I grab his jaw,
sink into the warmth of his mouth.
Andrew groans,
fingers sliding to the back of my head.
And he kisses me.
Again.
Again.
And again.
Every slow-tongued kiss lands wetter and deeper.
He pulls me closer,
his warm abs flush to my soaked pussy.
His breathless laugh shakes his chest,
voice torn—
“My heart, it’s gone.
“I think it’s stuck in your body somewhere.”
“Touch me,” I breathe out before I second guess it.
His smile slips away, eyes jumping to mine.
His mouth’s still glistening and swollen red.
“Slowly,” I say,
nudging my trembling lips against his.
He grabs my hips, pinning me against him,
my legs wrapping around his waist.
Then he stands, lifting me off the bed.
My pussy grinds into his abs,
drags hot across the slope of his stomach,
leaving slick behind like a trail of spit.
Then he’s sitting on the edge,
taking me with him.
I’m straddled and spread across his lap.
One of his hands is at the back of my head,
the other on my hip,
and he pulls me against him, head tilting in,
tongue heavy and soaked as it sweeps into my mouth.
My body’s screaming—I want more.
I want him deep.
I want him melting inside my body.
I want him filling the ache to make it go away.
I want him shaking,
falling apart,
seeing stars.
Which is disgusting.
What’s wrong with me.
But I’m staring down at his mouth
when the confession slips out anyway—
“I need you inside me, Drew.”
His whole body goes still.
Even his breath.
His fingers tangle in my hair,
and he pulls me back to meet my eyes.
He swallows.
“You wanna look at me when you say that?”
His eyes crash tide-ripping blue.
His jaw goes rigid,
waiting for me to take it all back.
I don’t—
“I need you. Inside me.
“I—I don’t fuckin’ know why.”
His face shatters,
as if the floor dropped out beneath him and he’s still falling.
Voice low, cracked—“Christ, angel… yeah.”
Then again, firmer: “Yeah. I’m yours.”
Then whispered, wrecked:
“I’m yours. All yours. Been yours.”
His forehead presses to mine.
“Fuckin’—I’m so yours.”
And my chest rips down the middle,
heart pounding hard enough
to break out from inside,
just to stand in front of him,
cracked open and offered—
bloody, bruised, free, his.
Slow down, my stupid, stupid, heart.
Andrew’s eyes flare,
face caught in that yes he’s been starving for.
Then the nerves break,
pulling him under,
scared of how deep this could go.
He’s seconds from freefalling,
right into something big and dangerous,
but he'll only jump if I take his hand
and swear I’m right there with him,
afraid to fall too hard and fast without me.
I fist his hair and drag his mouth to mine before he asks if I’m sure.
Tongue first, mouth open,
I steal whatever’s holding him back.
I kiss him,
shoving both our fears down my throat.
Because this is nothing new.
This is just sex.
Everyone has sex.
Just. Sex.
He watches my face,
locking my legs higher around his waist.
His hips angle as he slips his sweats off,
skin to fucking skin.
His cock—hot, heavy—flush against my pussy.
All six and a half inches of
you’ve-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me.
It's hard enough to fuck a hole into heaven.
I jump up, levitating like I sat on a geyser,
breath stuttering,
pussy Home-Alone screaming.
“Nope. Nope—nah, I take it back. We ain’t fuckin’.” A laugh breaks out of me, panicked. “I change my mind. Jesus—put Negan’s fuckin’ bat away, okay? You’re not swingin’ that thing at me raw. Get the fuck outta here.”
A laugh rips out of him.
A stunned, fucked laugh.
He rubs his face, eyes blown and dazed.
Still at the edge of the bed,
elbows to his knees, he watches me pace,
one hand in his hair,
the other gripping his cock.
“Sonny. Baby. You gotta stop pacing.
“Just stop for a sec. Look at me.”
But I can't stop pacing.
He drags a hand down his face.
“I know you’re scared. But so am I, alright?”
His eyes are both wildly alive and dying for it.
“I’ve never done it like this.
“Always from behind—clothes still on.
“Never let anyone touch my dick ‘cept you.
“No one’s even seen it ‘cept you.
“Not in ten years.
“Always fuckin’ standing.
“Always two seconds from takin’ off.
“But this? You? I’m fuckin’ exposed, Sonny.
“And I ain’t runnin’ from you.”
My next breath bails.
For a second, I think he's fucking with me.
"You really expect me to believe that shit?"
“Sonny, c'mon.
“Why the fuck would I make that up?”
Only noticed I stopped pacing when he stopped talking. Now I’m just standing here knees dumb, lungs held hostage.
“Okay—hear me out—” I say, my hands up.
“Can we give it a minute?
“Wait ‘til it calms the fuck down.
“Start with the soft version before I try to shove it inside me and die.”
"Soft version?" He grins, scratching the back of his neck. “Hate to break it to you, angel, all I do is stiffen, not shrink.”
My chin juts at him. "What?”
“No baby-dick-mode here.
“And you really think I’m goin’ soft with you in my room?” He laughs, shaky and wrecked. “You got no idea how fuckin’ gone I am for you.
“There’s no goin’ soft.
“He’s stayin’ right the fuck where he is.”
He holds his hand out, eyes gentle.
“C’mere, baby.”
And I go to him, stepping between his thighs.
He looks up at me,
ready to fuck his initials into my bones.
He presses a kiss right against my ribcage,
then skims across,
landing another between my breasts.
He pauses there, eyes lifted, voice all gravel—
“This dick? Scared shitless of you.
“But right now, it’s yours. Every inch.
“So just… sit with me. You don’t gotta let it in.
“But fuck—feel how bad I want you.
“Get familiar.