Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Ravi nods, urging her off him and down across the bed. He kisses a line from her chest to her navel, hooking his fingers into her panties and dragging them down her legs.
When he presses a teasing kiss to the inside of her thigh, Yael whines. “I want you inside me,” she repeats.
He chuckles, his breath brushing across the most sensitive part of her.
“I want to do this for a little while first. Don’t worry, I won’t let you come,” he says.
His smile is sly, but he waits for her to nod before he bends to taste her.
One of his hands finds her breast, the other holds her hips in place.
“Ravi,” she sighs.
“So fucking good,” he murmurs. Yael doesn’t think she could ever tire of him saying it. What he said yesterday—You taste so fucking good to me. The first time they kissed—I can’t believe you taste this good. She believes him. He eats pussy like he means it.
One, then two of his fingers slide in easily, and he lifts his head to look at her. She nods again, and he withdraws his hand, pressing a kiss to one of her hip bones. He sucks his fingers into his mouth as he stands, so casually, like he’s doing it without a thought.
“Condom,” Yael whimpers.
All she can do is watch, breathing heavily, as Ravi removes the last of his clothing, retrieves a packet from the box, tears it open, and rolls it on. He lowers himself over her, easing her legs apart and hooking his arm under one of her knees. “Are you ready for me?” he whispers.
“More than,” Yael whispers back, tilting her chin up to capture his lips with hers.
When she feels that first nudge of him inside, the sound she makes—somewhere between a moan and a sob—disappears into his mouth.
He waits there for a moment, until he can feel her impatience, and then he presses further.
A slow, agonizing sink in that he kisses and holds her through, until his hips are flush against her and he has to break away for air.
“Yael,” he says, resting his forehead against hers, his breath shaky. “You feel so good.”
So do you, she should say. But all that comes out is a tiny hum of assent.
“How do you want me?” He curves his spine to kiss across the tops of her breasts. She doesn’t respond. She’d be hard-pressed to remember her own birthday at the moment. “Yael?”
“I am having trouble thinking right now,” she says. She shifts under him, and he exhales sharply.
Ravi takes a deep breath and nods. He starts to move. He tries thrusting slowly and shallowly at first, and it only makes her more impatient. Then faster, more assured. She feels a mess beneath him, grinding up at him, gripping on to his arms, his back.
“Does this make you feel good?” he asks against her neck.
“Yes,” she says.
He changes the angle of her leg then, and her breath rushes out of her. “This?”
“Everything,” she breathes.
Ravi leaves her nearly empty. Tragically so. And then he pushes in slowly, firmly, deeper than he had before. Again, and a low moan rips from her throat. “There,” he says, like this is what he’s been waiting for.
He keeps moving like that, with her arching to meet him, and bends to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. It’s honestly obliterating. The megaquake the West Coast has been waiting for could be well underway, and Yael would be none the wiser. She feels wild, ravenous.
“Tell me what you need,” Ravi says, voice gruff.
“This,” Yael gasps. “Exactly like this, but I want you behind me.”
Ravi groans, pulling out so that she can roll onto her stomach. Just as she brings her hand between her legs, he pushes into her; a delicious, slow slide.
“God, Ravi,” she whimpers. His torso is mostly flush against her back, all of him pressing her down into the mattress, and that, too, is erotic somehow. She’s afraid to even move her fingers against herself, because she doesn’t want any part of it to be over yet.
It was only minutes ago that she thought they might not work together like this, no? She didn’t know it was possible to be so wrong. “Wrong” isn’t even enough. Her vocabulary is insufficient to describe this.
“Talk to me, Yael,” Ravi says against her ear. “I need to know you’re here with me.”
“It’s perfect,” she says, even though it takes every ounce of her will to focus on forming the words. She can hear the earnestness in Ravi’s voice, and her need to make him feel good is as intense as every other desire vibrating through her. “You’re perfect inside me. The way you move…”
“Fuck,” Ravi swears.
“Pressing me down like this,” she continues, not even sure what she’s saying. She draws a tentative circle over her clit and God, she’s so fucking close. It’ll take barely anything. “Perfect,” she repeats.
Ravi talks to her, too. Tells her how she makes him feel, how good she is, how he can’t believe how well they fit.
She tells him the same, she thinks, until she truly can’t speak anymore, until his strokes become less measured, until she’s completely dissolving, practically crying into her comforter, Ravi shuddering and moaning and collapsing on top of her.
He starts to lift his chest off her back, but she grapples for his arm. “Stay,” she begs, and he does.
EVENTUALLY, RAVI PROPS himself up on one arm, creating space between them. It has to have been minutes that he’s been lying flush against her, but Yael still makes a noise of disappointment.
Christ.
Ravi kisses across her shoulders, down the center line of her back.
“I need to deal with the condom,” he murmurs.
Yael sighs and nods, the side of her face still resting against the comforter, her hair spilled like wine over her sheets.
“I’ll be back soon; I promise.” Yael nods again. “I’m going to pull out now, okay?”
“Okay,” she says, not opening her eyes.
He does so carefully—he can tell how sensitive she still is, and honestly, so is he.
Dodging their discarded clothes, he makes his way to her bathroom to clean himself up.
His reflection in the mirror is disheveled and flushed, and there’s a shadow of a love bite where his neck meets his shoulder.
He averts his eyes. It’s bad enough feeling what Yael does to him.
He doesn’t need a visual reminder of just how much trouble he’s in.
Back in her room, Yael is still sprawled, seemingly boneless, across her bed. When she hears him approaching, she rolls onto her back, throwing her arm over her eyes to shield herself from the light streaming through her window. He swallows. She’s so beautiful. Always, but especially like this.
“I know I need to get up,” she says, “but I can’t yet.”
“I’m surprised to hear you forming full sentences,” he says, climbing onto the bed beside her.
There’s already extra color in her cheeks, but she blushes further.
She seems to shrink into herself, scrubbing her hand down her face.
He catches her by the wrist, folding her hand into his.
“If I’ve embarrassed you, I didn’t mean to. It’s a good thing.”
She releases a breath and nods. “Okay. I think my brain turned off for a few minutes back there, and that’s sort of … I don’t know.”
Ravi smiles at her, set aglow from his chest to his extremities. “I like that I can turn your brain off,” he says. “Partly because when I met you, I thought it never did.” He unfurls her fingers so he can trace the creases in her palm.
They’re quiet for a while, him just touching her in this small way. And then, her voice hesitant, she asks, “Did you feel that, too?”
“Yes,” he says, because he knows exactly what she means.
“I don’t want to leave this bed,” she says.
“You don’t have to. We can stay here all weekend, if you want.”
“I’ll have to pee. And we’ll have to eat at some point, probably.”
“Well,” Ravi says, “we can always hurry back.”
Yael smiles now, relaxed and loose. “That sounds like a plan.”
They have sex twice more that day, in between talking and laughing and kissing for hours.
They only leave the bed for the bathroom and leftover Pizza Kat and again for a thrown-together pantry meal that tastes much better than it should.
Ravi falls asleep feeling sweaty, spent. And, frighteningly, tender.
YAEL WAKES UP in the middle of the night with Ravi’s arm slung across her stomach; suddenly certain her heart’s about to be broken for the second time this year.