Chapter 14 — Under The Blanket #3
Her laugh came out breathless and bright until my mouth found her neck, then it broke into a gasp.
I kissed down her throat, across her collarbone, between her breasts.
Her hands worked at my shirt, shoving it up with no patience at all.
I pulled it off. She flattened both palms on my chest and stared like she had earned the right to study every inch.
"Okay," she said, mostly to herself. "Yes. That's aggressively unfair."
"My body is unfair?"
"Your body has been committing crimes against my attention span for years."
I laughed and kissed her stomach.
Her laughter turned into a shaky inhale.
I opened her shorts.
She lifted her hips without being asked.
The shorts came down. Her panties followed, pale blue cotton soaked enough that my jaw tightened when I saw them. Reese watched my face as I pulled them off, and whatever she found there made her thighs part.
No hesitation.
No performance.
Choice.
I settled between her legs.
"Luke," she said.
I looked up.
Her hand came to my face, warm and trembling now. Not from fear. From the force of wanting something too long.
"I'm sure."
That sentence wasn't enough by itself. Not for this. Not for what I had begun to understand about tonight.
"Tell me."
Her throat moved. Downstairs, someone laughed at the television. Reese's eyes stayed on mine.
"I want you to be my first," she said. "Not because it's romantic in the abstract. Not because I waited for some perfect idea. Because it's you. I wanted it to be you when I was old enough to know what that meant, and I want it to be you now. In this room. Tonight."
The air left me slowly.
"Baby."
"Don't make it sad," she whispered. "It's not sad. It's hot. It's mine. I picked it. I picked you."
I kissed the inside of her thigh.
She shivered.
"Then I'm going to make damn sure you enjoy what you picked."
Her smile flashed. "I was hoping you'd take that attitude."
I put my mouth on her.
Reese was already wet from the family room, from the blanket, from years of converting proximity into fantasy and fantasy into this room.
The first stroke of my tongue made her hands fly to my hair.
The second made her bite down on her wrist to keep from crying out.
I gripped her hips and pulled her closer, tasting her until the old bed creaked under the force of her body trying not to move.
She wasn't quiet by nature.
That became clear fast.
Every lick had to fight its way through her. Every slow circle of my tongue made sound gather in her chest. I felt it before I heard it. Her thighs tightened around my head. Her hips lifted. Her hand smacked the mattress, then grabbed a pillow and crushed it against her mouth.
I slid two fingers into her.
She came apart.
Not all the way. Not yet. But close enough that her whole body jolted, and a muffled moan pushed through the pillow hard enough to make me freeze.
Downstairs, the television kept murmuring.
No footsteps.
No voices moving closer.
Reese lowered the pillow just enough to look at me over the soft edge. Her eyes were wild.
"Don't you dare stop," she whispered.
I didn’t stop.
I worked her with my mouth and fingers until she shook through a tight, breathless orgasm she barely managed to hold inside her body. Her pussy pulsed around my fingers. Her heels dug into my back. Her chest rose and fell in ragged pulls that made her breasts tremble in the lamplight.
When I crawled up her body, she grabbed my face and kissed me hard, tasting herself on my mouth without a second of shyness.
Then her hand found my cock.
She stroked me once and made a low, satisfied sound.
"God," she whispered. "I've thought about this part so much."
"This part?"
"The part where you stop being patient."
I pressed the head of my cock against her slick entrance.
Her breath caught.
The house was quiet beneath us.
My hands shook a little.
Reese saw it. Her expression softened in a way that nearly undid me more than the heat had.
"I'm yours, Luke," she said. "All the way. Right here."
I kissed her.
Then I held there, the head of my cock slick against her, both of us shaking on the edge of the line she had waited years to cross.
***
The first inch took both of our breath.
Reese's eyes went wide, not with fear, not with regret, but with the shock of reality finally overtaking imagination. Her hands gripped my shoulders. Her lips parted. Her whole body went still under mine except for the trembling.
I held there.
Every instinct in me screamed to move. She was tight and wet and hotter than thought, her body gripping me like it had been waiting with a patience neither of us possessed anymore.
"Okay?" I asked.
She nodded too fast, then caught herself.
"More than okay," she whispered.
I eased deeper.
Her back arched. Her mouth opened, and I covered it with mine before the sound escaped. She moaned into the kiss anyway, a high, helpless vibration that went straight down my spine.
I sank into her slowly, inch by inch, until I was buried fully inside Reese Madden in the bed she had made for this, in the room she had planned for this, with her family close enough that a careless sound could tear the whole night open.
She exhaled against my mouth.
Then she smiled.
"I’m officially yours," she whispered.
I laughed under my breath. "You're trouble."
"Your trouble." Her legs wrapped around my waist. "Now move."
I moved.
Carefully at first. Too carefully for Reese, apparently, because after three slow strokes she dug her heels into my back and pulled me deeper with enough insistence to make the bed creak.
We both froze.
The sound seemed enormous.
It was probably not enormous.
My heart didn’t know that.
Reese looked at the wall, then back at me, biting her lip like she was trying not to laugh.
"Your bed squeaks," I whispered.
"I know."
"You knew?"
"Luke."
That one word carried confession, amusement, and so much bad behavior I almost came right there.
I dropped my forehead to hers. "You planned for the bed to squeak?"
"I didn't plan for it." Her hips rolled, and the bed answered with another small complaint. Her smile went breathless. "I counted on it."
I should have stopped.
That was the responsible answer. I should have slowed the pace to almost nothing, kept her quiet, kept the headboard still, remembered that Patrick and Melanie Madden trusted me enough to send their daughter upstairs with me to look at photo albums that didn't exist.
Reese clenched around my cock and moaned.
The responsible answer burned to ash.
I kissed her hard and started fucking her in earnest.
Not brutal. Not careless. But real. Deep strokes that made her body rise to meet mine, made her breasts move under me, made the old mattress complain beneath us.
Reese tried to stay quiet for maybe thirty seconds.
Then her hands found my back, nails dragging down my skin, and the next moan came out too loud.
"Baby," I warned.
"I can't," she gasped. "I can't be quiet. You feel too good."
The headboard tapped the wall.
Once.
Then again.
My hips stilled.
Reese grabbed my ass with both hands.
"No."
"Your parents."
"Are downstairs."
"Exactly."
"Then you'd better kiss me harder."
She pulled my mouth down to hers and rolled her hips, taking me deeper, and that was it. The last thread of restraint snapped clean.
I fucked her with my mouth on hers to catch the sounds, my hands on her hips, my body driving into hers in a rhythm that made the bed squeak and the headboard tap a soft, damning beat against the wall.
Reese took it like she had been waiting years to prove she could.
Her legs locked around me. Her body opened.
Her pussy gripped every stroke with wet, hungry pulls that made sweat gather at the base of my spine.
She was loud even muffled.
She was sunny even wrecked.
She was Reese, and Reese didn’t know how to want quietly.
I shifted, pulling her up until she was sitting in my lap, both of us upright on the bed.
Her arms wrapped around my neck. Her breasts pressed against my chest, soft and full, her nipples hard against my skin.
I held her by the ass and lifted her, brought her down on my cock, again and again, slower but deeper.
The bed squeaked less.
Reese moaned more.
"God," she breathed into my mouth. "There. Like that. Luke, like that."
I kissed her throat. "You're going to get us caught."
"Worth it."
"Reese."
"I wanted this." Her voice shook, but not from doubt. "Here. With them close. With you trying to be good and failing because you want me too much."
That did something ugly and beautiful inside me.
I pushed her back down, rolled her onto her stomach, and pulled her hips up.
She made a sound into the pillow that was half laugh, half prayer.
"Oh, that's unfair."
"Quiet."
"Then stop being good at this."
I slid into her from behind.
Her hands fisted in the sheets. Her back arched.
Her ass pressed back against me with desperate little movements that told me she wanted every inch and more.
I gripped her hips and gave it to her, deep, steady, harder than before, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with her muffled moans and the bed's repeated protests.
The headboard hit the wall again.
Too loud.
I stopped.
Reese reached back and grabbed my wrist.
"Don't," she said.
"They could hear."
"I know."
"That doesn't make it better."
She turned her head, cheek against the pillow, eyes dark and wet and absolutely certain. "It does for me."
I stared at her.
There was the fantasy. Not hidden now. Not implied. The risk wasn't an accident or a flaw in the plan. It was the charged wire running through the center of it.
She wanted me in her room with the house around us.
She wanted to be chosen where she had spent years wanting.
She wanted the trust and the danger and the impossible heat of it.
And God help me, I loved that she trusted me enough to show me the shape of her want.
I leaned over her, my chest to her back, my cock still buried deep.
"Tell me what you want."
Her answer came immediately.
"Come inside me."
My whole body went tight.