Chapter 32 #2
After a few moments of silence, she opens her mouth to speak, before closing it. Then, she gives me a soft smile and exhales a deep breath. “Will you teach me how to sew, Gio?”
My hands drop to my sides in surprise. “You want me to teach you?”
Tessa shyly grabs her elbow. “Um, only if you want to. The sewing kit was enough…”
She honestly thinks I’d turn her down?
“It’d be my privilege.”
It’s hard for me to swallow the surprised expression on her face. I wish we were never in a position where my help would come as a shock.
Tessa ducks her chin. “Thanks.”
“Do you want to start right now?”
“Really?” she asks hopefully. “When will your parents be home?”
“They’ll be out for a while. After church, they go to lunch with my aunt, followed by weekly grocery shopping. Go ahead and sit on the edge of the bed, and we’ll begin.” I grab my glasses on my nightstand, put them on and sit next to her.
She picks up the large needle and thicker thread.
“I do know how to thread a needle. I’m not a complete idiot,” she jokes, though her tone has an uncomfortable edge.
I place a hand on her shoulder and give it a squeeze. “If you didn’t know how to thread a needle, that’d be okay, too.”
She nods. “Thank you, Gio.”
Even now, her calling me my nickname feels like sinking into a soft bed after a long day. She threads the needle and secures the knot at the end.
“Bene. Let’s start with a running stitch, okay? Go ahead and pick up two pieces of fabric.”
She places one square on top of the other and holds the needle close to the fabric.
“Not too close to the edge,” I correct gently, moving her hand back. “There you go.” She inserts the needle in and pulls the thread through, a short distance away from the fabric. She repeats the movement a few times, and her line is as straight as an arrow.
“Perfect,” I praise, beaming at her.
Watching Tessa sew, I can’t help but feel robbed that we spent so much time at odds. I imagine what it would’ve been like, a different working relationship. Something that might have led to a moment like this without all the challenges along the way.
She finishes her line, pulling the thread through one last time before glancing over and tying it off.
“You’re an expert already. Let’s try a backstitch now. It’s a stronger stitch, and creates one continuous line instead of a line with gaps in between each stitch. This stitch is best for things like seams. Start from behind this time.”
Tessa places the needle at the back of the fabric, a finger’s length away from the running stitched line.
“Now, instead of moving forward, you’ll want to take the needle back down where the last stitch ended.”
She does it flawlessly, and tilts her chin up to show me her smile.
“Just like that. Look at you.”
She’s a natural. I hate that fashion school knocked her confidence. After working with interns at Lamont, I know most of them come in knowing how to sew. I can imagine Tessa feeling a bit behind if she’d never learned.
Excited, she starts sewing faster, pulling a bit too roughly for the stitch.
“Don’t pull the thread too tightly. You want even tension, or else the fabric will pucker.”
Tessa sighs, frustrated.
“Here, I’ll show you.” I move behind Tessa on the bed, my thighs against hers, and reach around her with my arms. I place my hands on hers and guide her to pull the needle slower, more gently, through the fabric.
“Like this,” I murmur in her ear, continuing the movement over and over until a longer stitch begins to form.
We stay in this position, me wrapped around her, sewing in peaceful silence. After a few minutes, she seems okay on her own, so I pull one of my hands away and lean back on the bed.
“No, leave them.” She tugs my hand back. My fingers brush against her bare forearm as I reach for her again, placing my hand on top of hers.
“Gio,” she whispers.
“Yes?”
“Touch me?” she asks, barely above a whisper.
I rub my thumb across the top of her hands. “Like this?”
“No.”
I swallow, nearly certain what she means but wanting to hear her say it, that she wants me as much as I want her. I gently trail my fingers up her forearm toward her shoulder, leaving goosebumps in my wake. “This?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“You want me to touch somewhere else? Hm, baby?” She nods against me. “Where?”
“Everywhere,” she breathes.
I feel my cock get harder, my entire body aching to release the tension that’s been building between us. “How about this? You keep practicing, and I’ll make you feel good.”
She arches her back against my front, and her hair tickles the bottom of my chin. I remove my hands from hers as she continues to sew.
Bringing my palm up to her neck, I gently circle her throat.
Then I trace a slow line down the slope of her neck to the top of her breasts, taking my time as I stroke the swell of them underneath her short nightgown.
She shivers from my touch. I carefully pull the top of her nightgown down, exposing her nipples, and groan.
I didn’t think it was possible, but she’s even more beautiful than I imagined.
Hooking my chin over her shoulder for a better view, I brush my thumbs against her nipples and watch them harden for me.
Tessa breathes in sharply and drops her hands to her lap, distracted by my touch. Grinning, I remove my thumb from her nipple.
“Keep sewing, remember? Practice makes perfect,” I murmur in her ear.
She moans, picking up the fabric and needle, resuming her stitch.
“God, I love your breasts. I’m going to massage them while you work on your line.”
True to my promise, I touch them as Tessa sews. Every so often I circle her nipple with my finger, drawing a whimper.
Then, I press my lips once below her ear and leave a trail of soft kisses down the column of her throat. I give her skin a soft nip.
“Bene, Tessa. Look at us. We’re both busying our hands.” My hands drift down her stomach, and I hike up her hem. When I realize she isn’t wearing anything underneath, I give her a small lick of appreciation on her collarbone.
I can’t wait any longer to touch her where she craves it the most. Swiping two of my fingers through her pussy, I coat them in her arousal.
“Yes, Gio, oh my God,” she sighs, lifting her hips.
“So ready for me, Cara. Knee up.”
She bends a knee and places her foot on top of the bed, opening herself up to me.
“Lean back. Rest your head on my shoulder. No, don’t stop sewing,” I chastise, and she resumes. Her stitches get sloppier as she leans against my chest.
“Ah, there you are. When my chin is over your shoulder like this, I can see you much better. From here…” I kiss her shoulder. “…all the way to here.” I pat the top of her pussy. “Does that turn you on?”
I gently tug on the wisps of trimmed curls. “This is so fucking sexy, Tessa. I can’t wait to fuck you with my fingers.”
I feel her body relax into me, her knees falling open once again, as though she’s freely showing all of herself now.
“Gio,” she moans. “Please make me come.”
“You don’t have to worry about that now. Not with me.” I start leisurely stroking the center of her, up and down, before switching to small circles on her clit.
“How does it feel? Knowing that I’m watching your pussy drip while you focus on sewing for me like a good girl?”
She whimpers.
“But you don’t want me to be gentle like this. You want it rougher, hm?”
“Yes… more,” she moans.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. So do I.” I press harder, rubbing with more pressure, and she gasps.
“You can handle it.” I thrust two fingers inside of her and groan. “Fuck. You’re so tight, baby.” My accent is thicker now, and my cock is the hardest it’s ever been. I need to get a hold of myself, or else I’ll cum in my pants.
She only responds with heavy breaths between unintelligible whimpers.
“You’re so overwhelmed, huh? Not used to having such a full pussy. And to think, it’s just my fingers. We might have to do this a few more times before I put my cock in you.”
“I want it,” she begs.
“Not today.” I curl my fingers and stroke her from the inside.
“Gio, can I—”
“No.”
“But—”
“I’ll tell you when. Stop asking,” I chide.
I don’t have to wonder if she’s enjoying giving me control. Between the hushed “yeses” and “mores,” I can feel my denial making her wetter.
I bring my fingers back to her clit, rubbing faster. “Be good.”
“God,” Tessa moans, dropping the sewing materials on the floor. Reaching up and around my head, she rests her hands at the base of my neck. Then she starts running her nails gently through my hair.
I shudder in response, keeping one hand on her pussy and moving my other hand around her throat, lightly squeezing.
Tessa can’t hold off any longer as her thighs start to shake.
“Come.”
“Fuck,” she swears as she comes, leaning forward for more pressure around her neck.
I keep rubbing her until her spasms slow.
Once I know she’s finished, I flip her on my lap to face me, my shorts getting wet in the process.
Tessa shifts to straddle just one of my thighs so I can unzip my fly and release my cock.
I thrust into my hand once, twice. She licks her palm and replaces my hand with hers as she starts pumping me up and down.
She maintains a steady pace and varies the pressure, which drives me absolutely crazy.
She moans. “God, it’s so hot to watch you get off like this. I love your cock.”
“Lean back,” I strain out. “I want to see all of you when I come.”
Tessa pulls away, resting one hand behind on my knee, working my cock over, while I drink in the way her nightgown bunches around her hips, leaving her almost completely naked.
This image will play on repeat in my brain for the rest of my life, and one second of staring at her is all it takes for me to come with a loud groan, painting her stomach with my release.
“Gio,” Tessa breathes, and I collapse into the bed, tugging her down next to me on her back. She lifts her hand and I notice her pinky has a bead of cum dripping down it. Tessa’s eyes lock on mine as she licks up the side of her finger, lapping up my cum in the process.
My jaw remains slightly ajar. “I have no words.”
I pick up the extra fabric I set on my nightstand and reach down to wipe Tessa’s stomach, marveling at how her skin looks when she’s covered in me.
When I’m done, I turn us on our side, her back to my front. I idly twirl her hair around my fingers and pepper her neck with light kisses.
“You’re a good teacher,” she teases playfully, in between heavy breaths.
I stroke her back, and she turns her head to give me a soft kiss on the lips.
“I love how affectionate you are,” I praise.
She blushes. “When I’m with you like this, I feel so connected. It’s insane.”
But it isn’t insane for me.
For the first time in my life, I feel completely grounded. In reality. With her.