Chapter 9 #2
Before I had a chance to introduce myself, Belle's voice cut through the music, "Meet Rory!
" Puzzled, I turned to her. No one had ever called me Rory, and certainly not Aurora.
Noticing my confusion, Belle whispered in my ear, "Play along.
As Rory, you can be anyone. Let go for once.
Remember, what happens in the Caribbean.
.." She trailed off, giving me a knowing wink, and then gracefully glided to the dance floor with her partner.
Seizing the moment, Tori excused herself, promising to catch up later, leaving me alone with my unexpected companion for the night.
Conversing was challenging over the music's blare.
However, after a while, he laced his fingers with mine and nodded toward the dance floor.
I accepted the wordless invitation, allowing him to guide my steps toward the crowd.
Soon we, too, were immersed in the rhythm.
Our movements synchronized effortlessly, and as I stopped over-analyzing and allowed the music to guide me, I felt a profound connection with Mr. Cheek Dimple.
I couldn't let him know I was still in high school. So, throughout our time with the guys and their circle, I remained intentionally ambiguous, letting down my guard only when discussing our favorite books and mutual love for literature. Although our group's whirlwind of activities — from swimming and partying to mini-golf — limited our private moments, the brief conversations we shared created a bond I’d never felt with anyone else. While we shared heated glances throughout the day and stole secret kisses on the dance floor, our intimacy hadn’t moved beyond that, given our ever-present friends.
DJ and I didn't exchange personal details like last names, phone numbers, or social media accounts.
On paper, I barely knew him. However, we had undeniable chemistry.
On our final night aboard the cruise ship, DJ and I found ourselves perched on a secluded staircase at the back of the vessel, the night sky strewn with stars above us.
It was as if we had discovered our own secret haven, a place where time seemed to hold its breath, far removed from the bustling crowds and distractions of the ship.
DJ's kisses were nothing short of electrifying, igniting a fire within me that had been smoldering since the moment we met.
We lost ourselves in each other, our lips locked in a passionate dance that stretched on for what could have been hours, although in that suspended moment, time was irrelevant.
The hushed whispers of the ocean below were the only witnesses to the palpable sexual tension that crackled between us.
Immersed in the moment, I did not hesitate to acquiesce when he suggested finding somewhere more secluded. Eagerly, I nodded and whispered, “Yes, please.”
He led me away from the stairs, searching for a discreet spot to continue our dalliance.
I had no intention of revealing my inexperience to him.
While I never overtly lied, I allowed him to believe I was a college student with a history of casual relationships.
The truth about my age and high school status might have sent him running, and we’d come too far for him to run away now.
Finally, we found an unlocked door that led into a quaint and dimly lit library.
The late hour gave us privacy, as the other guests had returned to their rooms or to more exciting evening activities, leaving the library to us.
DJ directed his sexy half smile my way as he quietly shut the door and turned the lock.
He wrapped his arms around me, kissing me while slowly walking us back toward a couch on the side wall in between floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
I was too lost in him to recall any previous fantasies of my first time with a man, but this no doubt surpassed them all.
DJ laid me back on the couch and nestled his body between my thighs, kissing down my neck toward my chest. He lifted his head and smiled, staring down at the birthmark just under my collar bone. Tracing the dots with his finger, he looked up at my face, curious. “Strange place for freckles, eh?”
“Birthmark,” I breathed. He looked down at it again, still tracing the dots.
“Andromeda,” he whispered. I stilled. No one aside from my grandmother had ever noticed the distinct pattern of my birthmark.
“Yes,” I whispered. DJ looked up at me and gently brushed the long bangs off my face.
His soft smile reached his eyes and he looked at me like I was someone beautiful, someone special.
Before either one of us could breathe another word, I leaned up and captured his lips with mine, fingers gripping his upper arms.
We kissed, tongues dancing, bodies pressed together, and hands wandering greedily.
Running his hand up my thigh, DJ slid under my skirt, squeezing lightly and pressing his thumb into my hip joint.
Fingertips reaching the edge of my bathing suit bottom, he lifted his face to meet my eyes.
“Is this okay?” My body was on fire, my desire in full control, and without hesitation I answered, “Yes.” I then slid my hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.
Venturing into territory unknown, I didn’t want to stop.
After tonight I’d never see DJ again, and having the memory of my first anything with a man who made me feel so much all at once would be a dream come true.
Not to mention, the thought of not having to fumble through talks of a future or dating after the cruise sounded like perfection.
We both appreciated tonight for what it was — goodbye.
DJ slowly pulled loose the strings of my bikini bottoms, one and then the other, pushing aside the fabric so he could slide his fingers along my bare, wet flesh.
Holy mother of all things holy. I’d touched myself intimately before but it was NOTHING like having someone else touch me.
As if electrocuted, my hooded eyes flew open as DJ found my clit and rubbed it in circles, finding a steady rhythm as I moaned and closed my eyes once again.
I was almost there — ALMOST THERE — when he slid his fingers from my clit to my opening and pushed one finger inside.
The penetration was new, and while I enjoyed it, the pressure of his fingers on my clit was OMFG-please-don’t-stop good.
I whimpered and he pulled his lips from mine, concern evident as he asked, “I’m not hurting you, am I? ”
“No, not at all,” I half moaned as I lifted my pelvis, trying to find friction for my clit with the palm of his hand.
“Ah,” he chuckled, “I see.” Then DJ pressed his palm against my hood, rubbing it in time with the thrusts of his finger.
Just as I was building back up, he curled his finger and rubbed some sort of magic button inside my sex.
Euphoria exploded through my entire body, the throbbing in my core pausing momentarily as my inner walls clenched around him.
(I later learned that magic button is known as a G-spot, which makes perfect sense being that it felt capital ‘G’ great.)
“That’s it, baby. Come for me.” He whispered as I rode out my orgasm, pulsing around his finger and digging my nails into his biceps.
DJ resumed kissing down my neck as I slowly came down from my climax.
“I want to be inside you,” he whispered into my ear, kissing along my jaw before lifting his head to see my response.
“Y-y-yeah. Yes. Ok. Yes.” I fumbled my words, suddenly confronted with the reality of having sex for the first time in my life.
My thoughts scattered, as if understanding any focused thought would make this all too real, all too fast. I kept my eyes locked on his, my heart pounding in my chest. Surely my rapidly beating heart would give away my nervousness, my inexperience.
DJ furrowed his brow. “Are you sure? We don’t have to.” His concern for me helped to ease my fears.
“I’m sure. Yes.” I nodded, wrapping my hands around his neck again and pulling him back down for a kiss. The last thing I needed was to welcome more conversation that would no doubt help him deduce I was, in fact, a virgin.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom — I couldn’t decide if this was great forethought or presumption on his part — and then untied the front of his board shorts and pushed them down his hips.
I was too terrified to look; I had never seen a penis outside my biology textbook and knew if I looked now my face would surely give away my virgin status as my cheeks turned bright red and my eyes tried to bulge out of their sockets.
So I looked up. At the ceiling. At the shelves lined with books.
Not wanting him to mistake my wandering eyes for indifference toward what we were about to do, I returned my gaze to his and smiled, praying my expression was demure, yet sexy.
I probably looked ridiculous, but I banished the thought as he slid the condom over himself and repositioned his lower half to press against me.
I was swimming in a sea of nerves and excitement, my stomach a whirlpool of butterflies.
As I lay there, the weight of what was happening slowly sank in, the gravity of the situation becoming more and more evident with each passing second.
He saw the apprehension in my eyes, the tension stiffening my body, and he paused, his hand lingering near my thigh.
He leaned down, his forehead touching mine, the intensity in his eyes piercing through me yet kind and reassuring, reminding me of our connection — the sparks we had felt throughout the week, the tender gazes we shared while surrounded by our friends, sitting by the pool getting lost in conversation about our favorite books, the way our bodies moved together each night at the club.