Leah
He’s a gorgeous man who wants you sexually, and you are not going to get in your head. You've got this.
At least I hope I've got this.
The drive back to my place was quiet, the hum of anticipation building with each mile. Nick rested his hand on my knee, his thumb idly tracing figure-eights across my bare skin. His gentle touch says everything.
He cares.
He is safe.
Angus greeted us—well, he greeted me; he growled at Nick. After a few pats and snuggles, my precious little hippo tolerated my date enough for me to excuse myself to the bathroom.
Who am I kidding? I ran and hid. Very mature for a woman wanting to have sex.
That's just it: for most people, sex is simply two people coming together and stimulating one another for pleasure.
And I know this ... except now I'm hiding in a bathroom because sex has never been that simple.
It's always been something ordained by God, between one man and his wife.
It's always been don't make men stumble into sin because of your body.
Desire and arousal become complicated when you've been conditioned to believe they're evil.
I know better. I have learned over the years that love and sexuality are beautiful and should be celebrated.
For whatever reason, though, I can't seem to extend that freedom to myself.
The kiss Nick and I shared tonight was unlike anything I'd ever experienced, and all I want is to do it again and again.
Except somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, shame found me again.
As if my relationship with intimacy isn't bad enough ... Endometriosis makes lubrication an issue for me—a really big issue—and after I went through chemo, my vaginal dryness made sex incredibly painful.
I haven't told Nick about my diagnosis. It's not that I don't want him to know; it's just never come up in conversation.
He'll be understanding and supportive, but I am terrified his attraction toward me will shift.
I love how he looks at me right now. I don't want any of that to change.
I don't want him to see me as something that's broken.
Plus, he's experienced. I don't shame him for that, but surely he has expectations. Will he give up on me when he sees I'm built differently? That I need patience? That oftentimes, my body is not going to cooperate despite anything and everything he does?
There’s a knock at the door.
“Leah, you okay in there?”
Dangit.
“Yeah, um …” I frantically glance around the bathroom, trying to play it cool. “Just a minute!” If there's any hope of me getting any action tonight, I better recruit some help.
Swinging open the cabinet beneath the sink, I rummage through an unmarked shopping bag from an adult toy party Chelsea hosted last year. I hadn't wanted to be seen as a prude, so I'd bought a sour apple-flavored lubricant that was supposed to mimic natural arousal.
Finding the bottle, I skim the directions before squirting a dollop onto my finger.
“Are you sure? I can help if you—”
“That's okay! I swear I'm almost done!” I prop one foot on the toilet seat and apply the lubricant, the cool sensation making me hopeful that maybe tonight would be somewhat enjoyable. After washing my hands, I quickly open the door.
Nick's waiting outside the door with that handsome smirk, his dimple making an appearance. His hands settle on my waist, pulling me against his chest. “You sure everything is fine?”
I hum, rising onto my tiptoes to kiss him. When I pull away, he follows, brushing his lips against mine again.
Then again.
“Leah ...” he murmurs as I kiss him once more. “Leah, hold on.” He gently takes my shoulders, slowing me down. “We don't have to do this tonight.”
I blink. “Do you not want to do this—?”
“No,” he interrupts, his hand cradling my chin. “I want you, and I fucking want this with you. I've been wanting to do this with you since the moment I first saw you behind the bar in those cute jeans and those marker stains on your damn hands.”
I grin softly. “Then what is it?”
“I need to know that this is what you want.” His eyes search mine. “You need to be ready. And if that means I have to wait—that we need to wait, then we wait.” He brushes his thumb across my bottom lip. “You are worth every single second.”
Oh …
I'm not sure what ready feels like or if I ever will be. But I do know that I want this man. I know I am safe in his arms.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
His mouth crashes against my lips as he backs me into the doorframe, his fingers buried in my hair. His tongue tangles with mine, the taste of mint and spice teasing a warmth low in my belly.
The kiss is demanding and hungry as he coaxes soft, helpless sounds from the back of my throat.
And gosh, I need to give him more.
My hands slip around his neck as I surprise him with a playful nip. A laugh rumbles from his chest before he scoops me up. My legs find his waist on instinct, wrapping around him as he holds me close.
Our kiss never breaks as he carries me into the bedroom. He sits me down on the mattress gathering the hem of my dress and lifting it over my head. The sudden rush of cool air brushes across the bare skin as he lays me back gently.
His thumbs hook into my panties, slipping them over my hips as his mouth trails tender kisses down the slope of my neck, between my breasts, and across my abdomen.
Then he stops.
He flashes me a curious grin. “Um … is there a reason you smell like a Jolly Rancher?”
I jerk upright, my thighs clamping shut. “I—um ...”
“Whoa—hey, look at me. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to embarrass you.” He kisses my forehead. “I was just surprised, is all. Is there something I should know?”
My cheeks heat. “It's a special flavored lube. I thought maybe it would make the experience better.”
He stares at me for a few seconds, then he lets out a humorless chuckle.
“Impossible. Leah, if I wanted a piece of candy, I’d eat a fucking piece of candy.
” His eyes darken as he climbs onto the bed, easing me back against the mattress before crawling up my body.
“But I don’t want candy. I want pussy. Your pussy.
I want it to look and smell and fucking taste like you. ”
I suck in a breath. The brashness of his words send a euphoric shiver down my spine.
“I’m sorry—”
“No, no … do not apologize. You did nothing wrong.” He takes me hand in his, bringing my knuckles to his lips. “I’ve got an idea, something that will help us both relax. Do you trust me?”
I brush my hand over the short buzzed hairs of his head, giving him a shy nod.
Nick takes my hand, helps me off the bed, then guides me back into my en suite. He turns on the shower and allows for steam clouds to billow around us. He takes off his shirt, exposing the hard planes of his sculpted chest.
Our eyes remain locked as I reach behind my back and unclasp my bra.
A twinge of anxiety gnaws at me as I let the garment fall forward, knowing my breasts are humble in size.
However, before I can shy away and cover myself, Nick gasps.
His eyes darken with a reverent awe, drinking in every inch of me.
And suddenly, every last insecurity melts away, every last curiosity of whether my body would measure up—if I would measure up—disappears. Tonight isn’t just about me getting to have sex with this man; this man has the privilege to have sex with me—and he’s treating me as such.
Nick removes his jeans, pausing briefly before pulling off his boxer briefs.
My pulse stutters.
Good gracious …
That is way more than what I expected.
When his erection pressed against me earlier at the hospital, it felt large, but actually seeing his size drains me of my newfound confidence.
But not completely.
We step into the shower, streams of the hot water cascading down our bodies.
And then the most intimate thing I've ever experienced happens.
Finding my soap, he lathers his hands before gently rubbing them over my hips, abdomen, and between my legs, washing me with a tenderness that steals my breath.
“Listen to me. You are not dirty. I need you to know that,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough against my ear.
“I just want to taste you. So fucking badly.” He presses lips to my shoulder, then to my collarbone.
He rises just enough to find my mouth again.
After each kiss, he waits for me to close the distance again.
When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against mine. “Can I?” he asks softly. “I won't unless you want me to.”
I swallow hard, then give him a small, trembling nod. “Yes,” I whisper. “Please.”
He sinks to his knees, water beating against his back and shoulders as his eyes darken, focused on me. His fingers curl around my hips as he leans in and kisses my belly, his tongue tracing lower and lower.
“Hold onto something, darlin’.”
He spreads me open with his thumbs, his tongue stroking me, deliberate and slow.
Holy …
A sound—a raw, desperate sound—that I've never made before tears from my throat. My hands scramble for purchase against the shower wall as my body surrenders to the pleasure.
Nick groans against me, the vibration sending more shockwaves through my core.
“Fuck, you taste perfect,” he growls, licking deeper, circling my clit with the flat of his tongue before sucking gently. “You're so fucking sweet.”
He hooks my leg over his shoulder, opening me completely before diving deeper. The shift in angle makes me cry out as his tongue works me relentlessly.
My hips buck against his mouth as my hand grips the back of his head, pulling him into me. An unstoppable coil tightens low in my belly as my body trembles, my heel digging into his back.
I need him closer.
I need him … in me.
“Nick …” I whimper, tears pricking at my eyes. “Please—”
“That's it ...” He grips the swells of my bottom, pulling me harder against his face. He hums into my core. “Come—”
Something deep in me snaps.
And I shatter.