Chapter 35 – Sylvia
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sylvia
Clover: I’m outside your room. Where are you?
I know I should respond to her text right away, but what the hell can I say? I flip my phone over as he pushes hair out of my face.
“Everything okay?” He murmurs.
We sit next to each other on the bed and he rests his hand on my thigh.
He’s always so gentle with me. I don’t feel a hint of fear about what we’re going to do tonight.
My stomach’s in knots, for sure. I promised myself that I wouldn’t go this far with anyone unless I was sure they were the one. The one.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “It’s fine.”
He knows when I’m lying about everything being okay. He knows me better than any guy.
“Sylvia, look at me.”
I nervously gaze into his eyes. They’re so freaking blue. You didn’t see many guys with blue eyes like that in our neighborhood in New Orleans and if you did, they definitely weren’t gazing into yours like this.
“Yes?”
“If you’re not ready, we don’t have to,” he says as his fingers spread over my thighs. He holds me so gently, it’s like he thinks I’m going to break. He holds me like I’m a little girl. Not anymore… Not after tonight.
“I’m ready,” I tell him with as much assurance as I can muster. I love him. I promised myself that I’d wait for someone I love and I know I’m thoroughly in love with this boy who thinks he’s a monster. He isn’t. He made some mistakes, but that doesn’t make him cruel.
“What about after?” He murmurs, leaning forward and kissing my cheek. “Is this still a secret?”
“You’re going to be here next semester,” I remind him. “That’s going to be a huge problem if this is… public.”
“I love you,” he whispers. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Come here.”
I immediately lean forward for the perfect kiss I know is coming.
I can’t wait to see him with his clothes off, even if I’m too shy to blurt that out right away.
I’ve seen him shirtless before and we’ve touched each other, but he’s always been careful with me, taking each step slow and easy before tonight.
Our lips first touch for the night drives me wild.
I already want to hop over onto his lap and straddle him as I rake my fingers through his weirdly silky hair.
Just touching it and I feel like it will fall off between my fingers, so my arms stiffen awkwardly at my sides as he kisses me and I freeze, too afraid to let myself go too much.
It’s my first time, I don’t know what he’s going to think about me. He’s so much more experienced. I pull away from our kiss and he touches my face gently.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know if I’ll be any good.”
He chuckles. “Darling,” he draws the word out with his posh accent. “You only need to be yourself. I want to be with you, Sylvia Richards. No one else.”
“Okay,” I say shyly and nod. I have so much confidence in life and on the dance floor but in a dark room with a guy I like, I turn into an awkward, stammering mess.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I just wish I hadn’t made things so complicated.”
“You want this, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he murmurs. “I want this so much, I’m willing to compromise my morals. Now come, let me get those clothes off…”
He kisses me and lowers me slowly onto my back before peeling my clothing off. He’s slow and gentle, kissing each part of me as he removes my shirt. He runs his hands over my bra and lingers over my nipples, teasing them awake while his lips fasten against my neck.
His hands move over my waist as he draws my body against his.
I feel his desire pulsing in his pants and throbbing against my leg.
He wants me. Sometimes, I still don’t understand why out of all the boys and girls in the world he ended up with me.
What makes me so special? I’m just the girl who tries to keep a smile on her face no matter what’s going on.
I’m not the girl who gets the guy at the end of the story — I’m like, her supportive best friend who guys never even notice.
But here we are. Together.
His hands run over my breasts and I can’t help but gazing at his tattooed forearms and biceps. I love those tattoos, even if I shouldn’t. He leans forward and whispers gently in my ear, “I want to take your knickers off.”
Knickers. I love how hot and dirty the word sounds in a British guy’s mouth, even if I’m too much of a good girl on the outside to admit how much it turns me on. I nod and he slowly eases his hand past the elastic waistband of my pants.
I moan as he slips his fingers past my underwear and touches between my legs. I feel all gooey and slippery, but he grunts with satisfaction as he touches me and then whispers my name.
“Sylvia,” he murmurs. “I love you…”
I whimper and arch my hips to meet him as his fingers continue to work. The tight pressure from my leggings and panties against his hand pushing it more firmly against my wetness only makes me want him more. I whimper again and grab onto his back, pulling him closer.
“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “So wet…”
His experienced fingers swirl around my clit and I feel this desperate tightening in my chest and this urge to spread my legs wider and allow his fingers to enter me deeper than before.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes…”
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Just let it happen. I can feel you’re close.”
I close my eyes and allow the sensations to wash over me as one finger finds my entrance and he slowly circles the apex of my thighs, avoiding entering me, but teasing me to prepare me for the sensation. We’ve done this before and it’s always felt good — good enough to make me cum.
“Please,” I whisper. “Inside…”
He slides his finger inside me and the hot sensation of the rigid digit pushing into me as he massages my clit thrusts me over the edge. I cry out and orgasm loudly as he works me with his fingers and continues to tease my wetness until my loud moans settle into gentle, desperate whimpers.
“Good girl,” he whispers. “Off with those trousers…”
I hurriedly wriggle out of my leggings, but before removing my underwear, I paw at his shirt.
“Hurry,” I whisper. “I want to see you naked.”
He chuckles, a glimmer in his blue eyes. “Cheers, darling.”
Then he takes his shirt off, exposing a chiseled body covered in tattoos that gets me soaking wet.
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