Theo - Nineteen
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been staring at her. Her skin still flushed from release, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, her lips kiss-swollen and parted slightly, like she was about to say something but couldn’t remember how to speak.
And Christ, how was I meant to recover from that?
She sat perched on the edge of the dresser, legs still spread slightly, knees bent as if her body hadn’t quite remembered how to close again. Her bikini bottom was back in place, but the memory of what I’d just done — what she’d let me do — had marked itself into every part of me.
I had never wanted anyone more.
But I didn’t reach for her again. Not yet. I was still trying to catch my breath, to slow the pounding of my heart. I wanted to savour the moment. Commit it to memory. This woman. This girl I’d wanted longer than I’d ever had the guts to admit. Looking at me like she wanted more.
She slid off the dresser with surprising grace and stepped closer. Her hand rose and brushed through my damp hair, fingers tracing the line of my jaw. There was something new in her expression — a kind of hungry resolve that made my breath hitch.
Then she kissed me.
Not tentative. Not sweet.
She kissed me like she wanted to unravel me next.
I let out a low groan, her body pressing into mine, the heat of her mouth coaxing me open again. Her hands trailed down my chest, slow and deliberate, until they hooked into the waistband of my swim shorts.
I caught her wrist. “Celia—”
She looked up through her lashes. “You didn’t think I’d let you be the only one having fun, did you?”
I laughed — shaky, already undone. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Not yet,” she said.
Then her mouth was on mine again, her hands slipping beneath the hem of my shorts, grazing the rigid length of me over the fabric of my briefs. I hissed out a breath, catching her hips in my hands to anchor myself.
“You’ve been hard for a while,” she whispered. “Poor you.”
“Celia—”
She cut me off with a kiss that turned filthy fast — tongue and teeth and breathless urgency. Her fingers slid beneath the elastic of my briefs, wrapping around me as she pulled me out, and I saw stars. My hips jerked forward involuntarily.
“Fuck,” I whispered, bracing a hand on the dresser behind her .
She was stroking me now, slow, confident, her fingers just tight enough to make me throb. I could barely form words. My head dropped to her shoulder.
“This okay?” she murmured, pressing kisses along my jaw.
I nodded, barely breathing. “It’s so much more than okay.”
She pulled back just enough to look at me — her eyes wild and bright, her lips swollen from our kiss. “Good,” she said, and kissed me again, tongue sweeping into my mouth as she pumped me in her hand.
I wasn’t going to last. Not with her like this. Not with the soft moans she made against my mouth, or the way her thumb teased the head of my cock, smearing the moisture that had already gathered there.
She leaned into me, her body flush against mine, her free hand dragging through my hair again like she needed to hold on, and I felt it then — that same sense of coming apart, of completely losing control.
And God, I wanted her more than I wanted to come.
“Celia—wait,” I breathed, catching her wrist again. “If you keep going…”
“I know,” she said, voice thick. “That’s sort of the point.”
She kissed me again as her hand started moving once more, wrapped tight around me, each stroke deliciously slow — almost teasing — like she was learning every reaction, every breath.
I was barely holding on. Her body against mine, the way she sighed into my mouth, the look in her eyes like this was the most natural thing in the world. Her other hand slipped under the edge of my swim shorts to rest on my hipbone, grounding me as her grip tightened.
I groaned deep in my throat, hips twitching forward.
Her thumb flicked over the head again and I let out a ragged breath. “Jesus, baby.” I couldn’t help myself from saying the name that seemed to fall out of me when her lips were on mine.
She smiled like a siren. A goddess in a bikini. “Is this turning you on?” she asked, innocent voice laced with sin.
I laughed breathlessly. “Are you serious?”
She leaned in, lips brushing the shell of my ear as she whispered, “Feeling you in my hand just makes me wish you were inside me.”
Fuck.
That was it. The leash snapped.
My hands clamped hard around her waist. My mouth was back on hers — all tongue and heat and hunger. My body ached to take hers, to give her everything she asked for.
I pulled away just long enough to rest my forehead against hers, panting. “I have always, and will always, be gentle with you,” I said, voice dark and hoarse. “But after that comment? I want to be buried so deep inside of you, you see stars. And I’m not sure how gentle that would be.”
Her lips parted, and she moaned softly. “Maybe I don’t want you to be gentle with me.”
I groaned into her mouth and kissed her again, rougher this time, hands gripping her arse through the damp fabric of her bikini as I rutted into her fist.
She was still stroking me, faster now, firmer. Her other hand slid between us and I barely registered what she was doing until her fingers cupped my balls, gently rolling them in her palm.
“Celia—fuck—I’m gonna come,” I warned, barely able to get the words out.
“Good,” she whispered. “I want to see you.”
That did it.
Everything snapped.
Pleasure tore through me so violently I saw white behind my eyes. I cursed loudly into her neck as I came hard, spilling across her hand, her stomach, both of us breathing like we’d just run a marathon.
She didn’t let go. She stroked me through it. Kissed my jaw, my throat, my shoulder. I buried my face in her hair, completely spent.
When I finally opened my eyes again and looked down at the mess across both of us, I burst out laughing.
“So,” she said, biting her lip, “worth it?”
I couldn’t stop smiling. “I think I’m obsessed with you.”
Her grin turned wicked. She leaned in, nuzzling my neck. “Oh, Theo,” she whispered, voice dark with promise. “I’ve only just gotten started with you.”
She leaned her forehead against mine, both of us still breathless, the curve of her smile pressed close to my cheek.
We stood there in silence for a few seconds — her hand still resting lightly on my chest, mine around her waist, sticky and flushed and still somehow completely content .
“Come on,” I murmured, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
She nodded, quiet, letting me guide her into the small bathroom. I turned on the shower and the room began to fill with steam.
I turned and could see the small reluctance across her face at suddenly being completely exposed with me in the shower and knew what I needed to do. I walked across the space and grabbed the clean towel from the rack and passed it to her.
“Have a warm shower, I’ll rinse off quickly and grab you some clean clothes while you freshen up,” I said and I smiled as her shoulders relaxed, informing me I had said the right thing.
She leaned forward and gave me a gentle kiss across my cheek in thanks.
I stepped around her, washing my stomach clean over the sink, knowing I would properly clean it in the shower myself once Celia was fully changed again. I gave her one more glance and then closed the door allowing her to have privacy.
There was still a large grin plastered across my face as I thought back to everything that had just happened between us. The fact there was stuff even happening and the use of the word us still made my heart leap.
I knew that I would be going home very soon, while Celia and her best friend continued their journey across southern Europe.
I think I’d been clear about my feelings for her and that this wasn’t just a summer fling or a rebound – this was everything I had always wanted.
She was everything I had always wanted. But in a few days, she would still be here and I would still be boarding the plane.
I didn’t know if that was enough time to convince Celia to choose me, but for the first time in years it didn’t feel like we were drifting past each other, it felt as if we were standing still and she was my favourite person to stand with.