Nineteen #2
“Good?” I may have just unlocked some newfound confidence in the bedroom, but I’ll be damned if I’m not pleasing Summer enough to make her squirm.
She nods, her eyes screwed shut. “Please, I want more.”
I wrap my other hand around her mouth, trying to muffle her high-pitched whimper.
I bite her shoulder, causing her to jolt. “What did I just say?”
My fingers move in and out, tortuously slow as I watch Summer from the mirror. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her chest moves rapidly but she keeps her moans quiet.
“Attagirl,” I mumble into her hair.
I continue fingering her with one hand, wrapping the other around myself.
My hips jerk forward at the light tugs I give myself before pulling my fingers out of her, smoothing the tip of my cock against her clit then to her entrance.
I swipe it back and forth, letting my pre-cum mix with her arousal.
It seems to always be that sex with Summer has to be rushed. Like I’m never allowed a moment to take my time with her. Maybe it’s for the best, otherwise I don’t know if I’d ever stop fucking her.
When I’m finally slipping into Summer, I find myself holding back from breaking my own rule and moaning. She leans forward, her stomach now pressed against the counter and her face buried in the crook of her arm.
Honestly, Summer being the first person I’ve ever been with, sexually, might have been the worst idea. Purely because I don’t think anyone will ever be able to top her.
I don’t think anyone will fit as perfectly. Or clench around me the same. And I highly doubt that anyone will be able to get me so close to coming just by hearing them moan my name.
Damn it, she’s moaning again.
It sounds so beautiful and angelic. Music to my damn ears. I’d love to just say fuck it and let everyone in the apartment complex know what we’re doing in here. Maybe Thatcher will stop trying to shoot his shot.
But getting caught fucking your best friend in the bathroom isn’t something that you just live down.
After the summer ends, this whole thing needs to be forgotten. There can’t be any memory of it. I want to save Summer the inevitable embarrassment she’s going to face from letting someone like me have her.
If anything could ruin our friendship, that might just be it.
Despite my better judgement, my hips falter. Summer quickly lifts her head to look at me, her eyes wide and teary. “No wait, please. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“Summer.” I take her jaw in my hand and turn her to face me. I reach for her panties that’s still on the counter and shove them into her mouth. “Quiet.”
Then I’m letting my hips resume their movements, desperately trying to stay composed but I can feel her clenching around me. So sweet. So tight. So not mine even though I wish she was.
I want to snap my hips into her at a pace that I hope will bring us both to the edge, but I can’t let the sound of our skin slapping against one another become the dead giveaway of our current activities.
Instead, I focus on resting my hands on her hips, pumping so deeply into her like we need a reminder why this is a very bad idea.
A knock on the door has me stopping yet again. Summer looks at me, panties still stuffed in her mouth.
“Summer?” Bethany knocks again. “Are you okay in there?”
I lean over, pressing my chest into her back, and whisper, “I’m not stopping.”
She seems to understand my silent command when I pull her panties from her mouth, and resume thrusting up into her.
Another knock.
“Y-yeah,” Summer stutters, her voice hoarse. She squeezes her eyes shut when I hit a different angle.
I have to admit that I’m having a real power trip while watching her choke on her words.
“You sure?” Bethany asks.
Thrust.
“I’m just freshening up!” Summer blurts out.
If I wasn’t balls deep in her, I’d probably laugh at her lame attempt at a lie.
Bethany lowers her voice. “Oh my god, so Thatcher’s a green light I’m guessing.”
Thatcher.
The one name I don’t need to hear right now nor do I want to. My hand reaches around Summer’s waist and I circle her clit with my fingers. It seems safer to take my frustration out this way rather than pounding into her while Bethany is literally outside the door.
“Yeah, he is.” Summer swallows hard, trying to compose herself. “Just trying to look good for him.”
That’s honestly the worst thing she could’ve said.
“Okay, mission understood.” I hear Bethany laugh gently. “I’ll keep the guys busy.”
Her footsteps retreat down the hallway.
“So he’s the one you’re thinking about right now?” I challenge Summer.
“No, I promise I’m not, just please don’t stop—”
“I’m not stopping.” I reach for her panties again. “But I’m going to come in you, Pretty Girl, and then I’m going to pull your panties back up your legs and you’re going to sit right next to Thatcher all night.”
I shove her panties back into her mouth. “And you’re going to keep me right here.” I keep myself still inside her but grind against the curve of her ass.
I can’t hold back anymore. My body is shaking with the amount of need I’ve had pent up for Summer, and I don’t know if it’ll ever ease up. I pull my hips back and ease back in. Summer’s back arches.
I want her like this, only for me.
Not Thatcher.
Not someone else years from now.
I can’t fathom the thought of someone else burying themselves deep inside her, or of a woman grinding themselves against Summer. I want to take it all. Have every inch of her to myself. She’s mine.
I repeat the silent mantra in my head and imagine her agreeing with me, telling me that she’s always been mine just as I’ve been hers. My breathing becomes frantic and my throat burns from the effort it takes to keep quiet.
Summer white knuckles the faucet as her entire body jerks forward and she clenches around me so perfectly. I lean forward, pressing my mouth into the fabric of her shirt, panting and allowing myself one small whisper of her name as I feel myself come undone inside her.
She moves her hips back, matching my pace as we both ride out the wave of pleasure taking over our senses. Everything tingles and my body is on overload. I’m not even sure if it’s because I’m still new to all of this or Summer genuinely has this effect on me.
For a moment we both remain still, our breathing the only thing taking up space.
The words “I love you” form and die on the tip of my tongue in one breath.
Because I know I wouldn’t mean it like I normally do.
It wouldn’t be me telling Summer I love her because she knows me like the back of her hand.
Or that we’ve shared our deepest darkest secrets.
It wouldn’t even be because I love laughing with her or having sex with her. Saying I love you now would mean “I don’t know how to live without you near me. Breathe on my own. Exist without being yours.”
I gently tap my index finger along Summer’s hip.
Three times.
I. Love. You.