Chapter 12 Avalon #2
He motions to his bare chest and then to my fully clothed body.
I’m wearing a sweatshirt. A very unsexy sweatshirt.
And I don’t even have sexy underwear on.
Sure, I’m not wearing granny panties, thank god, but what I’m wearing isn’t much better.
Not that he has any right to judge what I’m wearing.
I usually dress it up a bit more if I know I’ll be sleeping with someone. It makes me feel good about myself.
“You know I don’t care what you’re wearing, right?” he asks, and that’s when I realize I’ve just been staring at him. “Or what’s under what I can currently see. It’s just gonna end up on my floor anyway.”
He’s right. He’s not even going to see me in my underwear long enough to realize I’m not wearing sexy lingerie.
My sweatshirt ends up on his floor first, and my t-shirt follows right behind. Zeke's eyes stay on me with each piece of clothing that falls to the floor. And they continue to follow me as I crawl to the end of his bed, staying on my knees to meet him eye to eye.
I raise my hands, hoping he gets the memo that I want him to take off my bra. It’s not a sexy bra that clasps in the back, but it’s also not a sports bra, so I got lucky in that regard.
He gets the message.
His fingers hook under the sides of the bra and push up, his thumbs grazing my bare breasts as he does so. Goosebumps form along my arms as he pushes the bra over my head, throwing it onto the ground with the rest of my discarded items.
His eyes never leave mine.
Not even with my bare chest just inches from his current eyeline.
They stay on me as he pops the button of my jeans open.
It’s a simple action, but how he looks at me makes it the sexiest thing any man has ever done.
He steps forward, his bare skin meeting mine, the heat warming my body instantly. I know he’d be kissing me if I were any other girl. But he’s respecting the fact that kissing is a step too far for me.
Ridiculous, right?
I have no problem having a guy literally inside of me, but I draw the line at kissing. In all fairness, the no-kissing thing’s more of a while we’re actually fucking type thing, but I like that he’s respecting that boundary.
This already feels too much like an attachment.
It's not that I came here hoping this would happen, so I can argue it’s a spur-of-the-moment thing and not something I sought out, thus severing the attachment.
His hands graze down my bare back, traveling all the way down to my legs, before picking me up off the bed.
My legs wrap around his waist as he does so before he gently lays me back down on the bed, kissing his way down my body.
As he reaches my belly button, his hands sneak into my jeans and pull them down my legs before towering over me again.
“Your turn.” I eye his sweatpants, which are still hanging low on his waist. “It’s only fair.”
“Oh yeah?” His hands pin mine above my head. “Make me.”
I turn my head and press a soft bit into his wrist, hoping it’ll get him to release me. He doesn’t; if anything, the grip tightens. So, I do the only other thing I can. I use my feet. Slipping them under the hem of his sweats, just like his hands did with my jeans, forcing him to laugh.
I can only get them off so far, but he doesn’t seem bothered by having to do the rest of the work. And then we’re both completely bare, staring at each other like we’re both waiting for the other to make a move. So, I take the initiative—
I turn toward the nightstand, find the rope of condoms, and rip one off. I hold it between my fingers, sitting up against the headboard, a smile on my face. A smile that says your move.
His hands wrap softly around my ankles, tugging me forward so I’m lying flat on my back, condom packet still in hand. And then he slides it out from between my fingers. I don’t have to see him open it; I can hear it, and then his body is over mine again.
“Are you sure?”
I’m surprised by the question. Everything that’s happened since I got here shows that I’m sure. Is there a chance I’ll regret this once it’s over? Absolutely. But only because I don’t want to be hooked. And I have a feeling if anyone will hook me, it’ll be him.
“Are you?” I challenge. “I mean, I know you’re new to all of this—”
I don’t get to finish because he sinks deep into me, taking the rest of my words with him. He was right about our bodies knowing each other. My body instantly remembers the other night, and the tension fades.
He reaches behind me, and before I know it, my hips are lifted in the air, and a pillow is placed under me.
“What are you doing?”
“The other night, you kept lifting yourself off the bed so I’d hit you at a certain angle, which I can imagine takes a ton of core strength.
” He sinks back into me, hitting me exactly where I wanted him to the other night, this angle making all of the difference.
“Not that I don’t think you could handle holding your hips up like that, but it didn’t seem fair for you to do more work just to achieve optimal pleasure. ”
“You’re ridiculous sometimes.” I laugh, but the second he thrusts back into me, it turns into a throaty moan.
“So, you’re saying you don’t like this position?” He lifts an eyebrow. “Because the noises you’re making say otherwise.”
“Shut up.” I moan. “You’re a lot hotter when you’re not talking.”
“So, you think I’m hot?”
“Zeke.”
This shuts him up, but I think it’s more so because of his breathy moans and heavy breathing trying to match mine.
He grabs one of my legs, holding it tight against his waist, allowing him to sink in deeper.
And the second he does, it’s like his body finds the pace it needs to get our bodies really going.
My toes curl as I inch closer and closer to my release.
My fingers dig deep into Zeke’s shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to mind it, even though I’m sure they’re digging far enough into his skin to leave marks.
The hand gripping my leg squeezes me a little tighter, and I know he’s inching toward his own orgasm.
“Faster,” I whisper, his head falling into the crook of my neck as he picks up his pace.
His name leaves my mouth as I reach my peak, my body going limp under his, my heart racing, and after three more pumps, his body collapses on top of me.
I listen to his breathing as it starts to slow, returning to a normal speed.
He presses his lips against my neck before pulling himself out of the bed to discard the condom.
Once he does, he flops back into the bed next to me.
“Fuck, man.” He groans. “That was, fuck. I think that was better than the other night.”
I agree. I don’t know how; maybe Zeke was right, and it was because his body knew how to get mine off. Not that it was an issue the other night, but today. Fuck me.
He turns to look at me, but my eyes stay on the ceiling.
“I have a proposition.”
“No.” I get out of bed, finding my strewn clothing.
“You haven’t even heard the proposition.”
“Well, your last proposition got us here.”
“Exactly,” he continues. “My last proposition had a fucking fantastic outcome.”
“Your last proposition caused me to break one of my rules.” I pull on my pants. “I don’t sleep with the same guy more than once. Not until you.”
“So, you regret this.”
“Not entirely. I regret that it was with you.”
“That burns.”
I roll my eyes, searching his room for my bra.
“Looking for this?” He rests against the headboard, my bra dangling from his finger. I reach for it, but he pulls it back. “I think you still have my T-shirt.”
“So?”
“So, that’s my favorite t-shirt. I need something of yours to make sure you return it to me.”
“Fuck off.” I reach again, but he’s too quick.
I grab my t-shirt from the floor and pull that over my head instead.
“So, my proposition.”
“Not interested.”
“I was thinking of friends with benefits. No strings attached. You can even sleep with other guys if you want, I mean, as long as you know they’re clean. But if you’re worried about attachments, sleeping with other people will prevent that.”
“So why would I continue sleeping with you?”
“Because it’s the best sex of your life. You can admit it; most girls do.”
“I don’t know if I’d rank you in my top five.”
He chuckles.
“Plus, there’s one problem with your proposition.”
“What? You’re worried you’ll fall in love with me?”
“No.” I pull my sweatshirt over my head. “Friends with benefits implies that we’re friends. Which we aren’t.”
“Acquaintances with benefits?”
“Pass.”
“I’ll give you some time to think about it.”
“I don’t need time.” I lean forward, resting my hands on his thighs. “Pass.”
I yank my bra out of his hand before he has time to respond. I shove it into my bag once I reach his bedroom door.
“Nice knowing you.”
“I’ll see you again,” he promises. “I still need my shirt back.”
I flip him off as I slam his bedroom door behind me—
“I already burnt it.”