Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RILEY
I may not know entirely what I’m doing, but I know that I want to do this. I want to make Addison feel as good as she makes me feel. And now that I’ve got her in bed and half underneath me, I let my instincts take over, tucking her damp hair back and leaning down to kiss her.
When I pull away, she reaches her fingers up to trace over my shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t think I’ve been this sure of anything in a long time,” I tell her truthfully.
As I scoot down to lie beside her and take one of her pierced nipples into my mouth, my hand cupping around the curve of her breast, it’s because I want to. Because my desire for her is blazing into an inferno inside me, even after I’ve already come twice.
It feels natural to skim my other hand over her stomach, to swoop down to her hip and then her outer thigh, charting a course over all her body’s curves.
This is different than being with a man, but I’m not interested in comparing.
I only want to enjoy being with this hot woman, who’s deep brown eyes feel like they’re peering into my soul.
Maybe that’s what should scare me. Not that I’m inexperienced in being with a woman, but that this woman who I’ve only known for a short time somehow seems to understand me better than the people I’ve been surrounded by for years.
Because it can be scary being seen. But she’s made it pretty clear that she likes what she sees.
And I like what I see in her too.
Not just the physical stuff. (Which I’m certainly seeing all of right now, and yes, I do like that very much.)
I like how she goes out of her way to make people happy and doesn’t want any credit for it.
In fact, when you try to thank her, she’ll act like it’s nothing at all.
And I like how she sometimes gets so in the zone while she’s cooking that she’ll start humming and singing to herself without even realizing it.
Then she’ll shoot daggers at whomever catches her.
I definitely like how she’s not interested in my fame, not in who else I know or what tickets I can get her. But she is interested in my songwriting and what I really have to say.
And I like how patient she is with me right now. How she’s lying still, letting me explore and go at a pace I’m comfortable with. Even though I can see the need for more simmering in her eyes.
“Will you tell me what you need?” I ask, as I continue idly playing with her nipple. “Show me how you like to be touched.”
She groans, arching her chest into my hand. “Jesus, Strawberry. I’ll like anything you wanna do. As long as you keep touching me.”
I tug lightly at her piercing, feeling victorious when she lets out a tiny moan. “I want to make you come. Please show me how.”
Her eyes meet mine, and for a few moments, we do nothing but hold the contact, the intensity building. Then she takes one of my hands and guides it slowly down her body until it’s between her legs. “I’m already wet for you,” she says, and yeah, I can feel that. “It’ll help.”
She slides my fingers over her pussy a couple times, getting them wet too, before directing them a little higher.
My heart is pounding now—with nerves, excitement, mind-altering arousal—but I focus on the way she’s rubbing my two fingers in tiny circles over her clit.
Giving a short nod, I nudge her hand away. I can take it from here.
Our bodies are essentially the same, so even though different people like different things, I do have an understanding of how this works.
Except, if I’m being honest, I almost never try to get myself off with my hands.
It’s usually too difficult for me. I don’t bother getting myself off very often at all, actually, but when I do, I use the one basic vibrator that I bought years ago. Quick and easy.
And usually fairly unfulfilling.
It’s different now, with Addison. Being with her turns me on in a way I’ve rarely felt in any of my past relationships.
After only a few hookups, I’m afraid that sex has taken up permanent residence at the forefront of my brain.
I want her all the time. I can barely look at her fully clothed without getting swept away in a dirty fantasy.
Now that it’s about me getting her off, I’m not looking for quick and easy. I’m willing to work for it. And as I play with her clit, watching her body move and hearing her moans of approval, I realize that I really like working for it.
“Do you like penetration?” I ask, trailing my fingers down to her hole. It would be easy to slide them in, but I want to make sure she enjoys that.
“It doesn’t usually do much for me, so a lot of the time, I don’t care one way or the other. But yeah, you can use your fingers.” She nods, making the permission clear. “I want to feel you inside me.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever communicated this much during sex, but the reassurance that she wants what I’m giving her is nice. I start with one finger, not concerned with going deep, but just moving it a little bit in and out, feeling her body accept me inside of her.
It feels kind of powerful to have her like this, to see her reactions, to know she wants my touch. I add a second finger and start going deeper, finding a rhythm. Then I use my thumb to keep rubbing circles over her clit. Her breathing grows heavier as I watch the rise and fall of her chest.
She’s not looking at me anymore. Now her eyes are closed, and her head is tilted back on the pillow, exposing the long line of her throat and making me want to kiss her there.
So I do. I lean over her and lick up from the base of her throat before moving my mouth to the side of her neck and placing a few kisses there. She lets out a quiet gasp as I pick one spot and focus my attention on it, licking and sucking at her freshly showered, vanilla-scented skin.
I’m touching her, tasting her, breathing her in, letting her fill all my senses. And I want more. I want to taste all of her and hopefully bring her over the edge.
I shimmy my way down the bed and her body, kissing her collarbone and chest as I go.
Her stomach and hipbone. All the way to where her dark pubic hair is neatly trimmed short.
I prefer to stay waxed, because I feel more comfortable that way—or maybe because that’s what I’ve always thought men expected?
But now that I’m getting up close and personal with another woman’s body, I have to admit, she looks sexy with a little bit of hair there.
I run my thumb over the patch of it before moving my hands down to her thighs and encouraging her to spread her legs more to make room for me between them.
Once I find myself lying on my stomach with her pussy right in my face.
.. well, I panic for a moment. Only because there’s such a confusing mix of emotions swirling in my stomach.
It’s easy to get overwhelmed by how much I want her and how afraid I am of messing this up. I want to be good at it for her. I don’t want her to regret giving me and all of my inexperience a chance.
“Hey,” she says softly. Glancing up, I find her braced on one forearm. She uses her other hand to reach down and caress my shoulder in a soothing way. “You don’t have to.”
“I know,” I tell her.
And then I break eye contact with her and go for it.
The first taste of her on my tongue, and the way her touch on my shoulder turns to a solid grip, has me wanting more.
I lick and suck at her, using my hands to hold her open for me.
I dip the tip of my tongue in and out of her hole experimentally, and when she moans and curls one leg around my back, her thigh pressing up against my cheek, I slide my tongue in deeper, licking inside her.
I definitely don’t hate this, but all I’m really concerned with is her pleasure.
So after a minute, I bring my focus back to her clit.
I lick little circles over and around it, then I use my thumb to gently pull back on the skin above it, exposing the round nub more fully.
I start alternating between flicking and tapping it with my tongue and sucking it between my lips.
“Fuck. Yes, sweetheart. So good.”
The simple praise from her lights me up inside. It’s even better than an entire stadium of fans chanting my name.
Without letting up on her clit, I squeeze her thigh, rubbing my thumb along the inner crease.
Then I move my hand up her body, blindly finding her breast. I massage it, experimenting with pressure until she moans for me.
Then I find her nipple and pinch it firmly, feeling the thin metal of the hoop running through it.
She lets out another moan, much louder this time. And then—“God, fuck, Riiiley.”
The way she whines out my name, it sounds like it’s being forcefully dragged from her throat. It sounds like I’m doing this right.
I’m eating her out for so long that my jaw starts to ache, but I have no intention of stopping until I get what I want out of her. When her thighs start to tremble, I’m pretty sure she’s close, and that makes me double my efforts.
“Use your hand,” she says, sounding breathless. “Rub my clit. I’m almost there. Just keep the pressure on it.”
Obediently, I do what she says, which gives my mouth a break and allows me to place light kisses along her inner thigh.
She’s wet enough that my thumb glides easily over her, but I make sure to provide the pressure she asked for.
And then all of a sudden, her heel digs into my lower back, and her hips thrash up off the bed as she comes with a shout.
“Fuuuck!”
I don’t let up on her clit until her body settles and she gently knocks my hand away. And then I need a moment for my own body to calm down from the endorphin rush that gave me, so I rest my head on her thigh, unable to tame the giddy smile that pulls at my lips.
Her fingers slip into my hair, lightly massaging my scalp. “Come up here,” she requests.