Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
Remy’s parents let him have a real party on Saturday night—the kind where we take over the whole downstairs. The lights are low, the music’s loud, and there must be forty kids here from school, including cute girls.
Now that we’re ruling junior high as ninth graders, my friends and I all agree the best part about our forced public education is meeting girls, checking out girls, and thinking about girls.
We’ve mostly outgrown the gawky, homely physical stages and the chicks are blooming too.
Some are so pretty, sweet, and yeah…built.
They smell nice too, unlike my friends and me—we often reek of BO and cheap cologne.
The fairer sex consumes a significant portion of my thoughts nowadays, and my hunger, curiosity, and desire for them grows.
I’m dancing with Sabrina Dellardo, our bodies swaying to “Always and Forever” by Heatwave.
It’s a long, slow song and she’s pressed close against my chest, my chin touching her cheek, her arms wrapped around my neck.
Her floral shampoo mixes with whatever perfume she’s wearing and makes her even more alluring.
And she’s fine as hell. Straight brown hair coasting halfway down her back and breasts big enough to feel through my thin polyester button-down shirt with the wide lapels.
Her bell-bottoms look painted on, emphasizing the curve of her butt, and one of my hands trails lower, resting between her waist and hips.
My pulse hammers harder when she doesn’t move it.
She shifts her head, smiling up at me, and I fall into her chocolate brown eyes, returning her smile.
Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.
My heart pounds in my chest, a trickle of sweat slithering down my back.
Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.
I slant my head and quickly press my mouth against hers, relief hitting when she kisses me back. It’s a little awkward at first, but then all instinct takes over. I wrap her tighter in my arms and kiss her longer and harder, marveling at her soft lips.
Her fingers sink into my hair while her other hand clutches my back. My hands mimic hers, and everything from the way her silky mane falls across my wrist to how her clothes outline her shape has my head spinning.
I part my lips enough to make a tentative move with my tongue, and she responds with a little gasp, opening in invitation.
Our tongues brush against each other and man, is that bizarrely wonderful and so…
wet. It’s my first time French kissing, so I have no idea what I’m doing and soon our tongues circle like frantic pinwheels.
On instinct, I branch off to explore other parts of her mouth, trying to breathe without breaking contact.
Blood pumps through my veins like it’s on fire, and my semi stiffens to fully erect behind my zipper.
I’m not sure I’m good at kissing—and I want to be—but I like this. All of it.
The song ends—even though we stopped swaying a while ago—and another begins.
“Want to sit down?” I ask.
“M’kay,” she answers, her eyes casting to the ground.
I guide us over to a couch, obsessing about kissing her again. The second we’re seated, our mouths collide…and we make out for an hour.
This is the longest I’ve ever necked with a girl, and it’s clear we’re both digging it. All I can think about now is getting to second base. If I have the guts. Do I? My pulse races, heart hammering so hard, I wonder if she can hear it.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I go for it.
My hand slips under her shirt and caresses her back.
Damn, that’s nice. Soft. My fingers inch higher, eventually butting into her bra strap.
My hard-on strains unbearably, threatening to bust out of my jeans.
Just the thought of touching her bare breast sends my blood into an escalated frenzy.
Now for the real guts.
My caress roams just south of her bra, broadcasting my intentions that I’m moving to the front. Please. Please. Please let me.
Sabrina stiffens a little, and I hesitate a moment before continuing with light strokes. Goosebumps flutter across her flesh. “You’re so pretty,” I say between kisses. “Your skin is so soft.” That probably sounds like I’m feeding her lines, but I’m not bullshitting.
We kiss longer and she relaxes, both of us breathing heavy as our lips and tongues continue exploring.
I skim my hand higher, roving over her right breast through the textured lace.
A groan sits poised to escape but I’ve stopped breathing.
Sensations riot, all new, and then she makes a different breathy sound.
I go for broke, wiggling my hand under her bra and touching her bare, supple tit.
Holy shit!
My dick is a steel rod, throbbing as I cup and squeeze her budding breast. It fits perfectly inside my hand, her nipple stiffening when I fondle it.
This is better than anything my lame brain has conjured.
I’m at serious risk of erupting in my Jockeys when Sabrina suddenly grabs my wrist and pries it from her breast, pushing it toward my lap. “We shouldn’t,” she murmurs.
Wait…what? And why? Because I’m thinking we really should. “Why shouldn’t we?”
“It’s too soon.”
My thoughts jumble, trying to absorb her rejection and compute what she said.
“Hey,” she says, perhaps sensing I’m dumbstruck. “I like you, Mick. And I think you like me.”
I nod, any words evaporating. Maybe because all the blood has rushed from my head to my dick.
“Let’s just take it a little slower.”
Kissing it is. I’m not complaining, just confused. But she’s not comfortable and that’s not okay with me either. I want her to want it and like it.
I sure as hell do…and all I can think about is when I’ll experience that again—and more.