Chapter Eighteen #2
It was strange, to think this was their first real kiss.
Their second, if you counted that one in her bedroom when they were teenagers.
It had all the crackle of a first, but there was something so right about it that it felt impossible to believe she hadn’t been kissing John this whole time.
She could taste herself on his lips, and she was hungry to taste everything he had to offer.
She opened her mouth, pressing her tongue against his so hard she heard him grunt, but just when she thought maybe it was too much, her coming on too strong again, he took her cheeks between his hands and deepened the kiss.
He took her full bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it just enough to send that spark of pleasure-pain to her clit again, before he slid his tongue along the same spot.
She could feel the hard ridge of his erection through his jeans, rubbing right against her where she was still hypersensitive, and she rocked her hips against him.
She’d been doing it more for him than for her, but she was surprised at how quickly the action brought another rise of sensations in her, and she was only aware of the breathless panting sounds she’d started making when John pressed back into her.
“That’s it,” he said. “Use me. Grind that pussy on me.”
“ Fuck ,” she said, clenching his biceps as she came again, even harder than the first time.
He swallowed her cry with his mouth, kissing her until she was lying boneless and prone underneath him, barely able to move.
It didn’t seem fair that she’d come twice and he still had yet to come at all, and she tried to reach down with her shaky hands to undo the button of his jeans.
“Micah—”
“Tell me to touch you,” she said. “Tell me how to touch you.”
He groaned, almost like he was going to refuse her, but then he reached down and flicked the button so easily it made all her attempts look like a joke, sliding his zipper down and taking his cock out.
It was so hard it was almost literally throbbing, and there was a drop of precum on the head of his dick that she swiped and then sucked off her thumb.
He gave a full body shudder. “Fuck, Micah. I’m not going to last long if you—”
She licked down the palm of her hand, leaving a wet trail from her tongue, before wrapping her hand around his cock and giving it a squeeze.
His jaw clenched briefly before his mouth fell open, and he was off like a rocket, warm stripes of semen splashing her skin.
His arms were trembling slightly as he held himself up over her, looking down at where he’d just come all over her belly.
“That was…”
“Yeah,” she agreed, even though she didn’t know what word he was going to say.
She wished she’d let him finish his sentence.
Incredible? It had been incredible. She tried to think of the last time she’d come that hard and drew a blank.
Surprising? It had been a surprise, in the best definition of the word.
But then she also felt like she could say it had felt inevitable , like they’d ended up right where they always knew they would eventually.
In that way, it didn’t feel like a surprise at all.
A part of her wanted to stay beneath his weight forever, didn’t even care that she could already feel his come drying on her skin.
But another part of her knew that she had to get up, and it would only be harder if she didn’t do it now.
She shifted beneath him, waiting until he’d carefully lifted himself off her before she rolled off the bed and shut herself inside the bathroom.
It took her a long time to pee. She was still so overstimulated down there, it was a few minutes before she was even able to.
She was washing up when she glanced at herself in the mirror.
It was impossible not to—the bathroom was small but the mirror took up the entire wall above the sink.
She also couldn’t help her first impression, which she tried to shove away as soon as it came.
Her hair was tousled and flipped over to one side, but in a sexy way, and even in the harsh lighting of the bathroom it looked like it glowed a little.
Her mouth was very pink, her lower lip puffy, and her eyes were wide and green as she took in the rest of herself.
The soft swell of her breasts, her nipples a slightly darker shade of pink than her mouth, a shadow of a bruise from where she’d pinched one hard.
I am beautiful , she thought, and then immediately felt ashamed and stupid for even thinking of herself that way. She turned the faucet off before opening the door.
John was sitting on the end of her bed, tying his shoes. Her stomach dropped, even seeing that he’d gone out to get them, that he’d gotten all the way to putting them on before she could stop him. She didn’t want him to go.
He was still bent over his shoes when he glanced up at her.
In her entire life, she didn’t know that she’d ever been more naked than that moment, standing in the bathroom doorway while John’s eyes traveled over her entire body, stripping everything away until she was sure he could feel her heartbeat in his own chest, could know every single thing she was thinking.
There was something bottomless in that look, and she felt herself falling into it.
But if he could read her mind, he wouldn’t be putting his shoes on. She grabbed her Elvis shirt from the floor, tugging it over her head.
“Well,” she said, hoping she achieved the right casual tone. “Definitely better than masturbating separately in our own rooms, wouldn’t you say?”
He was still staring at her, his forearms now resting on his thighs. He had a way of making a look feel like a touch, as he’d just amply demonstrated, and she felt this one tingle all the way down to her toes.
“Definitely,” he said, then hesitated. “Are we good?”
“Great,” she said, and now it had to be obvious how much she was overcompensating. Her voice sounded unnaturally high. She knew John heard it, too, because he frowned at her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “for—”
The last thing she wanted right now was one of John’s fucking apologies.
“Seriously, we’re great,” she said. “And don’t be sorry.
You were the one who said sex didn’t seem like a good idea.
I was the one who pushed it. Like I said, I was feeling horny, and now I’m less horny, so… yeah. I’m great. What about you?”
He was still looking at her, like he didn’t believe her. “Great,” he said finally, and she couldn’t tell if he was answering about his own state or just responding to her babbling characterization of her own.
He stood up then, and for a second she thought he’d give her a hug goodbye. Her body tensed, anticipating it, craving it, but he seemed to clock the tension and read something else into it, because he just shoved his hands in his pockets.
“We’re due for shuffleboard soon,” he said. “And I should probably—”
He’d need to change clothes, if nothing else.
She remembered the way she’d ground against his jeans only minutes before, and willed her gaze not to drop past his waist. She’d also completely forgotten that the shuffleboard tournament had been scheduled for midnight, which was undoubtedly supposed to be part of the Nightshifters -themed fun but now just seemed like poor planning to have to participate in a sport they didn’t know how to play on a dark, cold ship.
“I’ll see you out there,” she said.
“Great,” he said, and that was fast becoming one of her least favorite words.
She watched him as he went to the door and opened it, the quick glance down either side of the hallway reminding her Oh yeah, maybe we don’t want anyone to know that we did this .
She waited for him to glance back at her one last time, had the smile she’d give him all prepared, but he didn’t.
He just walked out, shutting the door quietly behind him.