38. Helen
It takes me a minute or two to come back down. When I do, I find Thad bracing me up against the railing, still watching me intently. Feeling a little loopy, I smile at him, in that sort of middle-hazy place like when you’ve just woken up from a nap.
It takes another minute to re-process that I’m all but naked, out here on this ship’s deck, with this man who’s played a formative role in my sexual awakening, but who’s made it clear he couldn’t see anything serious with me. I may be naive, but even I understand that sex does not always equate to commitment or feelings. I move to cover myself.
Thad stops me—not forcefully, his grip more like a suggestion. I could easily break free if I wanted to, but that intense gaze, still fastened on me, stops me. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells me solemnly.
I know that’s probably just something you say to your partner, postsex. Kind-of sex? I was penetrated this time! But I’m sure Matilda will give me some other definition for what we just did. Still, we were outside, in a semipublic space, so maybe that will begrudgingly win me some respect from my more experienced friend.
Keeping her pragmatic, no-nonsense tone in my mind, I steel myself against anything sweet Thad might say now, in the moment. I know it doesn’t mean anything, not really. “Thank you,” I murmur, not quite meeting his gaze. Wanting to take the attention off me, I motion to his erection, still visibly bulging against his trousers. “Do you want me to…? I can do something, if you show me how.”
My cheeks are already blazing red before the offer even fully escapes my lips, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the nature of the offer itself, or the admission that I won’t really know what I’m doing, even if I am a willing participant. An extremely willing participant, eager and ready to learn.
“Later,” he says, sounding distracted. Surprised, I search his face to find his eyes roaming over my body. I flush more deeply as my greedy body reacts, my nipples hardening, my legs falling open just a little.
I close them again, resolved. “Thad,” I protest, placing a staying hand on his chest. “That was—nice, but…I don’t know if it’s a good idea to?—”
“You didn’t like it?”
“O-of course I did,” I stammer. “But?—”
“You don’t want me to make you feel good again?”
I shiver. “It’s not that. It’s just—I don’t think I can do no strings. That isn’t a judgment, it just isn’t for me?—”
“We can do strings.” He traces his thumb where he’s holding me at my hip. It’s a completely PG touch, nowhere near the bathing-suit zone, but even that brief touch makes me feel like I’m on fire. Or maybe it’s the intensity in his words, his eyes, as he holds my gaze. “We can do whatever you want. I want to be whatever you want me to be.”
I blink at him in surprise, then uncertainty—sure I’m not understanding him right. “What does that mean?” I ask him point-blank, too frazzled to be coy. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
He takes in a deep, steeling breath, and for the first time I can see he’s nervous, too, and out of his element. “I want to be with you, Helen. I’m not sure I remember how to do this—but I want to try, with you.”
Matilda did not prepare me for this. In all our conversations about dating, she’s prepped me for the inevitable letdown, warned me about hookup culture and how no one wants to commit to anything anymore. But I don’t know what to do with the man of my fantasies, begging to give me more orgasms and promising to stick around after. And I still can’t quite shake the feeling that I must be making some rookie mistake. “You want to be my boyfriend?” I clarify.
“Yes. Great.”
Remembering other things Matilda has warned me about, I ask, “You want to have sex with me—with only me?”
That dark, intense look comes over his face again, sending another shiver coursing through me. “Yes,” he grinds out, like it’s taking great effort for him to stop himself there.
My eyes widen. My mind searches for the loophole, whatever obvious thing I might be missing. “Are you sure you aren’t just saying that because I’m naked?” I blurt out.
“I can’t say it’s not a good motivation.” His eyes sweep over me again, and he swallows. “But it’s not the only factor.”
I can see from that wolfish look in his eyes that he’s getting ready to do something naughty to me again. And I can tell from the pressure already building in my core that I’m going to let him.
Again, nervously, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “It doesn’t really seem fair that I’m the only naked one around here.” That I’m completely at your mercy, and I already know I’m going to do whatever you want me to do.
Something glints in Thad’s eye. To my surprise, and chagrin, he steps back from me. “Okay.”
Shoot. Whatever stupid thing I said without thinking, he’s changed his mind about whatever naughty thing he was going to do. It’s kind of what I wanted, but also—I realize now that it’s happening—definitely not what I wanted. Stupid, inexperienced virgin!
I make an inadvertent sound of protest, but Thad surprises me by grinning as he takes another step back.
Then he reaches for his shirt.
I watch, wide-eyed, as he undoes each button. Somewhere, in a distant, logical corner of my mind, I’m aware that he could easily just pull the shirt off in one go, but he’s intentionally taking his time. Teasing me. Watching my reaction as he slowly reveals more and more skin.
At last he reaches the final button, lingering a moment before he pulls the shirt off altogether. I suck in a sharp, unintentional breath—trying, in vain, to keep my eyes on his face, though they’re pulled like magnets to his newly exposed skin.
But he isn’t done yet. I watch the muscles of his arms and torso move and contract as he takes off his shoes, his socks, then works to undo his belt, pulling it off. Finally, smirking at something in my expression, he reaches for his pants and boxer briefs and shucks them off in one go, tossing them down on the deck with my discarded bathing suit.
I stare at him, speechless. He is completely and totally naked, without even a skimpy fishnet covering his skin, however inadequately. The sight of him is a shock to my system, so overwhelming I don’t know where to look. Everything about him is big and solid and—his penis. I can’t stop myself from looking at it now that it’s unleashed. I can’t believe that thing is supposed to fit inside of me. Just like everything else about him, it looks big and masculine and a little dangerous, in a way that makes me feel weak-kneed and nervous and aroused all at once in an experience that is completely, wholly new.
Some of this must read on my face, because Thad’s face softens, just a little. He still has that intensity in his expression, but it no longer feels challenging or defiant. “Relax,” he tells me. “We’re not going there, not right now. I don’t have a condom with me. And even if I did—we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Ever.”
I feel too shy to tell him I do want to do all the things. But I’m also a little relieved to know it doesn’t have to be right now, all at once. We can take our time. Savor things.
“I want to touch it,” I blurt out, my eyes dropping down to his erection.
So much for being one of his cool, sexy femme fatales. My dumb brain is short-circuiting, being next to a naked man, and this naked man in particular. I’m frankly surprised that I’m still able to put together coherent sentences.
Thad’s gaze darkens. “Helen,” he growls at me, almost warningly.
I tilt my head to the side, genuinely curious. “You don’t want me to touch you?”
His eyes fall shut a moment before he seems to force them back open through sheer willpower. “I do, but…I won’t be able to focus on anything else once we start down that road. And I have plans for you.” His eyes flicker down to my pussy, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was talking directly to it. The thought should be ridiculous, but instead it sends a jolt of want straight through me.
“Oh.” I dither for a moment. I like that he has plans for my pussy. I’d very much like to find out what those are. But I also can’t stop staring at his erection. It looks uncomfortable, maybe even painful. And it feels like I should help him relieve that burden, if I can.
It’s the Christian thing to do.
Swallowing, I step forward, reaching for him slowly. I want to give him the chance to stop me, if that’s what he really wants. His eyes hone in on my movement, his jaw clenching. “Helen,” he says, but he doesn’t tell me to stop.
I touch him almost clinically at first, exploring this thing I’ve heard about and read about but never actually experienced for myself. It’s both harder and softer than I thought. He’s solid as a rock, but the skin is smooth, almost silky. I run my fingertips up and down the base, testing it a moment, before experimentally wrapping my hand around it. “Like this?” I ask, tilting my head to the side to study it.
Thad swears as he closes his hand over mine, adjusting my wrist and then guiding it back and forth a few times before releasing me to do it on my own. “Fuck.”
I watch him, fascinated, as I continue the motion he taught me, experimenting with pressure and speed. Whatever I’m doing must be okay because he is almost incoherent in his want. The Big Bad Wolf who was threatening pussy plans a few moments ago has been completely and totally tamed.
It’s a good thing he’s too preoccupied with his need to pay much attention to my face, because I’m sure it’s cartoonishly dorky—wide eyes, gaping mouth. In all the studying and researching and reading I’ve done about sex, there was nothing that prepared me for this—the vulnerability and the power, the heady thrill of watching someone come apart because of you.
With an abrupt grunt, Thad reaches down, stopping my hand. For half a second, I worry that I’ve done something wrong, made some beginner’s error, until he half moans, “I’m going to finish if you don’t stop.”
Oh! Well, if that’s all. “I don’t care,” I insist, reaching for him again.
“I do,” he says to me through gritted teeth. “I have plans.”
Before I can laugh at the absurdity of that statement, Thad surprises me by lowering himself down onto the deck, lying down flat on his back and urging me down with him so that I’m straddling him. I’m aware of too many things all at once—my nudity, my weight, whether or not I’m crushing him, the position I’m in and if it’s making anything bulge or hang weirdly.
His voice pulls me back from the brink of a mini panic. “I’ve been wanting to do this ever since that day you were wrestling me in my car for your phone.”
My mind cuts back to that night—me pinning Thad down with my thighs, our breathing thick and labored. “Do what?”
I’m distracted by movement behind me, and I turn to see that Thad has taken hold of himself and is pumping energetically. As I stare at the sight, hypnotized, his other hand grips my hip, urging me forward until?—
“Oh, God!” I half gasp, half shout.
Forgive me, Lord. I can’t help the profanity, truly. Not when I’m sitting on his mouth and he’s exploring me with lips and teeth and breath and tongue. Pleasure so intense it’s almost painful courses through me, muting out anything but this sensation, his hand on my hip, urging me on, the frantic pumping behind me.
When I implode, I try to be mindful of where my body goes so I don’t crush him and he can breathe, though honestly, it takes Herculean effort to stay even that cognizant. He follows me a few moments later, his body jerking up all at once underneath me, then going prone again.
We lie there, the two of us, bodies awkwardly tangled as we try to catch our respective breaths. “Oh my God,” I sigh finally, when I’m able to breathe.
“Oh my God,” he agrees, one hand coming up to languidly caress my thigh.