12. Gianna
“Doyou remember the night we met?” I ask without thinking and feel the rush of blood to my cheeks at my own damn question. Before he can do more than smile at me knowingly, I clarify. “What you said, about me asking for what I want?”
I’m feeling bold again. Something that isn’t a trend, necessarily, because I haven’t ever really felt like this other than when I’m with Henry, but it seems to be becoming one. Maybe it’s because of how easy things seem to be when I’m around Henry. Maybe it’s because I’m truly myself around him and I’m much bolder than I previously thought.
Who knows?
“Of course I remember. I told you that you should always ask for what you want and what you need.”
“Hmm.” I hum in assent. Maybe, just maybe, I want him again. “Would it be all right if I kissed you?” My voice is husky and low, and I don’t even bother trying to clear my throat because there’s no helping it. Somewhere between our dinner at the diner and us lying in bed together, I made a decision.
He quirks his brow, and his eyes smolder, practically setting me alight. “Is that a want or a need, Gia?”
I consider his question, taking note of the warmth flushing my body and the heaviness settling low in my abdomen. I remember the decision I made to invite him in and the thoughts that have been flitting in and out of my head ever since.
And so, I answer truthfully, no matter how stupid it may sound. “It’s a need, Henry.” His name is barely off the tip of my tongue before he surges forward and pulls me into the kiss I just asked for.
He cups my face in his hands, pressing his lips to mine softly. Pulling back, he looks at me, seemingly asking for some kind of further permission, but instead of answering, I claim him in a kiss of my own.
My kiss is more insistent, less searching. I bring my hand to the back of his neck and curl my fingers into the fine hair there. He lets out a low moan that I feel all the way down to my toes. I try to get my other hand on him, but it’s almost impossible because of the position we’re in.
Sensing my frustration, he moves both of us so he’s beneath me and I’m straddling his hips. Shifting as I try to get comfortable in this new position, I brush against his erection and break our kiss on a moan. Sitting up, I brace my hands on his chest and find him flushed and breathing heavy. For a second, I just look at him.
He’s so hot. Like, so incredibly hot it makes my blood boil beneath my skin. The slope of his nose is hot. The light dusting of freckles kissing it is hot. The sharp cut of his jaw is hot. The way the light of the room glints off of his beautiful hazel eyes is hot.
It’s ridiculous, and if I think too hard about it, I’ll surely convince myself that there’s no way he wants to be with me like this.
Certainly not for a second time.
So I don’t think.
“What would you say if I said that we’re both wearing entirely too many clothes?” I ask, a little breathless myself.
“I’d say what I’ve already said. All you have to do is ask. Whatever you want, Gia, I want to give it to you.”
“Then can we get a little more naked?” I bite down hard on my bottom lip, worry coursing through me as if it’s not obvious he’s going to say yes. As if I can’t feel just how into this he is.
“Absolutely.” He practically hurls me off of him and hops off the bed, then starts ripping his clothes off like they’re on fire.
Laughing to myself, I stand and join him. Once I get down to my bra and panties, I pause for a second before removing them too. There’s no pretense here. We both know where this night is going and frankly, I’m comfortable enough with him that the thought of stripping naked in front of him doesn’t make me nervous.
It makes me wet.
He makes me that way.
“Oh, Gia, you’re so fucking beautiful. You know that, right?” Henry rakes his eyes from the top of my head down to my toes. He doesn’t zero in on my chest or between my legs. His eyes linger, sure, but he appreciates every inch of me, and witnessing that makes my nipples harden and my pussy throb.
“Even if I did, it’s nice to hear.” I watch as he rolls down his dark boxer briefs, revealing himself to me.
I’ve never really thought about it much, but penises can be sort of…pretty. Or maybe not pretty, but attractive? I don’t know what the word would be, but seeing him hard and already dripping precum has me ready to risk it all to get my mouth on him.
At the thought, I approach him slowly. When we’re toe to toe, his erection brushes against my stomach. I shiver at the contact and press up onto my toes to kiss him softly. When I pull back, I drop to my knees and look up at him.
Before I can put my mouth on him, he reaches a hand down and cups my cheek. He looks at me in a way that makes me feel like I could be something precious to him. Something important.
At least for the night.
“I haven’t been with anyone.” He glides his thumb over my cheek softly. “Since we were together, I mean. So I haven’t been tested again, but I’m good.”
The gentle way that he tells me has my heart stuttering in my chest. I’m tempted to ask clarifying questions. Like why? Why in the world have you not been hooking up with anyone for the last few months?
But I don’t know him well enough to ask.
Also, I’m not entirely convinced that I would be prepared for the answer.
“Same. Me too. I mean to say you were also the last person I slept with, so all systems go.”
All systems go? What in the ever-loving fuck is that supposed to mean?
Instead of questioning the bizarre way I confirmed that I too am STI free, he just smiles. Except it’s a different kind of smile.
I’ve seen quite a few of his smiles in the short time I’ve known him. There’s his wide, flirty grin. The smile that indicates he’s talking about something deeply important to him, like his business. The smile he bestows on everyone he comes into contact with because he seems to always be in a good mood and is happy to say hello to whoever he comes across.
Then there’s this smile.
It’s soft and almost sweet. But there’s an underlying fire burning behind his eyes that sets it off in a way that I can’t place. It looks like he wants to gather me up in his arms and hold me, but also fuck me into oblivion all at the same time.
I don’t know what it means. But I do know that it makes me feel heady and vulnerable. It’s thrilling and terrifying, so instead of figuring it out, I finally do what I knelt on this soft carpet to do.
Holding his stare, I dip my head so I can take him in my mouth. We both moan at the same time, him at the sensation and me at the taste of him. Carefully, he slides his hand to the back of my head, not with any pressure, but cradling me close.
I finally let my eyes slide closed, really getting into the moment. I bob my head and take him deep, swirling my tongue against his satin soft skin.
“Gia.” Henry curses when I bring my hands up to his thighs and dig my nails into his flesh.
My head swims with the scent and feel of him. The sound of his rapid breaths fills the room, and if I weren’t so determined to make this man come, I might smile.
Blowjobs haven’t always been an empowering act for me. In the past, it was something I did because I knew my boyfriend liked it. I know men in general like it. It’s always felt like something I should do because it’s good for them, not because I actually wanted to. And honestly, my exes always seemed to expect it, not that they ever cared enough about my pleasure to return the favor. I can count on one hand the number of times someone has gone down on me.
And it’s not because I don’t like it.
But I had a strong urge to get on my knees for Henry. He makes me feel so comfortable with myself that I can let myself want these things. I can let myself be vulnerable and open. Being able to do that, to explore and be sexual in a way that I haven’t in the past, is everything. There’s something incredibly hot about being with someone who makes me feel like this.
Knowing that I’m the sole reason for all the pleasure he’s feeling, the reason his breath is stuttering and his cock is swelling, is the most potent aphrodisiac I’ve ever come in contact with.
“I’m—oh God, Gia…” He trails off, and I double my efforts, using my hands on his thighs to hold him close.
I can feel him holding back, from what I’m not sure, but in the next moment he’s cursing and coming, and I swallow greedily. Taking my time, I lick and kiss him until I’m content and he’s almost shaking in the aftermath of his orgasm.
When I sit back onto my feet, I smile up at him. His eyes are wild, and his chest is heaving.
It takes him no time at all to haul me to my feet and pull me into a punishing kiss. He dips his tongue into my mouth and slides it against mine. I moan in response and wrap my arms around his shoulders to bring us flush together.
Breaking our kiss, he presses his forehead against mine. He still seems short of breath. “What do you want, Gia? My mouth? Fingers? Both? Let me make you come, and I promise when you do, I’ll be ready to fuck you the way you deserve.”
Our chests rise and fall together, hearts beating dangerously in time. His body is slick with sweat, or maybe it’s mine. We’re so close that I can feel him everywhere, although part of me thinks that I would feel him like this even if he was across the room.
“Mouth,” I answer, my mind flying to something that I’ve never done. Never asked for. My heart pounds, and a shot of anxiety tries and fails to penetrate the lusted-up energy that’s taken me over. “What would you say if I told you I wanted to sit on your face?”
I should be embarrassed just saying the words. Who says that? Do people walk up to each other saying, “Hey, nice day we’re having. Can I sit on your face?”
No.
Probably not.
Right?
The embarrassment doesn’t come, but if the cocky grin he gives me is any indication, I’m about to.