by Katia Rose
“What are you doing, Monsieur Hastings?” I call out, turning around so I’m facing him.
I step a little closer, until I’m right in the middle of the streetlamp’s glow, like the sidewalk is a stage and I’m under a spotlight.
“I...” He kicks at some gravel with his feet. “I should probably go.”
“What?”
“It’s just...I know this is a lot for you. It’s a lot for me too, and I don’t want to rush...things if you’re not ready. Today was—”
“Wonderful,” I cut him off. “Today was absolument merveilleux.”
He looks up, and his worried frown turns into a grin. “Yeah. Today was wonderful. So maybe the smart thing to do would be—”
“Zach.” I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head.
“What? Why are you looking at me like I’m crazy?”
I take a deep breath and let my arms drop. Something has been building in me all day, like a storm growing at the edge of the sky, and I’ve been pushing it away, shoving and shoving like wind battling against the clouds.
Only you can’t have sunshine forever. You can’t. The storm finds its way into your skies no matter what, and maybe it’s time to stop pushing back. Maybe it’s time to let the clouds roll in and do what I’m good at. Maybe it’s time to dance in the rain.
“Zachary Hastings, I have spent the almost three years since I met you doing what I thought was the smart thing, and I still don’t know if what we’re doing now is very, very stupid or not, but...I don’t want you to go tonight.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “I want you to stay.”
His eyes get wide. “Y-you do?”
I try not to let him see that I’m shaking. “Yes, you dork, so get over here and kiss me.”
He steps into the light and pulls my body to his, and I know the skies are clear tonight, but I still hear the thunder. I still see the lightning when I close my eyes.
The storm can bring it on.
Fourteen
DeeDee
NIGHTCAP: an alcoholic drink consumed before bedtime
“Zach, stop looking at Cyndi Lauper and take my shirt off!”
I grab Zach’s face and twist it away from where he’s staring at the wall beside my bed—the bed that I’m lying on with my legs wrapped around his waist while his hips grind against mine.
“I was just intrigued by the fact that basically all your stuff is still in boxes, and yet you’ve taken the time to hang a giant framed poster of Cyndi Lauper on your wall.”
“Be intrigued later!” I fume. I buck my hips up to press myself against him, more than a little satisfied with the way his jaw drops open and his eyes roll back. I don’t think either of us is thinking about posters or eighties pop stars anymore.
I can feel how hard he is, and it’s driving me crazy. The weight of him, the heat, the sounds he makes when I touch him: it’s better than anything I could have imagined. It’s Zach, here, now, with me. As turned on and desperate as I am, this already feels like way more than just sex. All of my senses are on high alert, like my body knows how important this moment is and won’t let me forget it.
“Fuck, you feel good.” Zach breathes the words against my lips.
I let out a frustrated moan and yank his head down to kiss me. I’ve learned that Zach Hastings using curse words in bed might just make me lose my mind and never find it again. I think he may have realized it too; I could swear he’s started doing it on purpose.
My hands claw at his shirt, my heels digging into his back to pull him closer. Soon we’re totally lost to each other, just tongues and teeth and hot, heavy breath. Kissing him is intoxicating. There’s no other word for it. He takes me over like the sweetest poison until I’m nothing but his. There’s nothing else when his mouth is on mine, every sweep of his tongue or nip of his teeth making me feel weaker and stronger all at once.
He shifts his weight to hit me at just the right spot, and I almost scream against his lips.
I need him.
Now.
I need the whole maudit world to fall away. I need him so close there’s no room to be scared anymore.
“Zach.” I pull back enough to say his name, my eyes still closed and my face scrunched up like this is a dream I’m trying to hold onto. “Please.”
I find the edge of his undershirt with my fingers—his flannel came off somewhere between the front door and my bedroom—and he sits up long enough to pull it all the way off before lowering himself back on top of me.
His bare back feels so good under my hands that I shudder. I bury my face in his neck and trail kisses along his throat, darting my tongue out to taste the salt of his skin. He’s warm and safe, and he’s not going anywhere. I feel like I’m wrapping myself around my own personal sun as I hook my legs around his waist. I need the heat. I need it so bad I’m shaking for it.
You need too much.
The words ring out in my head, all the voices that have said them to me echoing like a choir.
No. No no no.
This is not the time to be stupid and freak out. This is different. This is good. This is Zach.
“DeeDee?” He speaks into my hair as I go still underneath him. “You okay?”
“Uh, yeah.” I swallow the panic down. I take a deep breath of his scent. Then I slide my hands to his butt and smack it. “Just waiting for you to take this all off, baby!”
He snorts. “And you say I’m the dork.”
I give him another smack. “You are.”
Even in the midst of losing our minds over each other’s bodies, we still keep slipping into all our jokes and weirdness. Even as we let ourselves become something new and deep and powerful, we’re still just Zach and DeeDee. We’re still us.
We’re okay.
He starts to rock against me again, and I let out a moan as I slip back into the moment.
“I can’t get enough of you,” I rasp. I wiggle down on the mattress so I can trail my lips across his chest, and at the first swirl of my tongue, his head falls back and he groans.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he pants.
“Tant pis. Not a bad way to go.”
I press on his shoulders, and he takes the hint to flop onto his back. I follow right after him, making my way down his stomach as I keep kissing and licking him. When I reach the waistband of his jeans and sweep my tongue along the skin just above it, he sits straight up on the bed like he’s been shocked. One of his hands braces on the wall behind him while the other buries itself in my hair and pulls—hard.
My thighs clench, and I swear I see sparks fly as a need hotter and darker than anything I’ve felt for him before shoots through me.
“Shit, sorry.” He lets go as suddenly as he grabbed me. “I just...Fuck, that felt so good.”
I look up at him, my eyes just hazy slits. His are glittering with the same wild need running through me.
“Don’t be sorry,” I murmur, lifting one of corner of my mouth into a smirk. “I like it a little rough.”
Then I push myself up so I’m kneeling in front of him and pull my shirt over my head.
“Oh...god.”
I watch him stare at my black bra. His jaw goes slack and his chest heaves. It’s not even a fancy bra, but I feel like I’m wearing the sexiest underwear in the world with him drinking the sight of me in. He looks like he’s a computer that’s too busy buffering to handle any new information. He stares and stares and stares for so long that I start to chuckle, a little worried that my boobs may have broken him.
“Zach?” He doesn’t do anything except blink when I say his name. “You’re supposed to do things to them.”
“Things?” he repeats, still not taking his eyes off my chest.
“Yeah. Sexy things.”
“Right. Sexy things.”
He shakes his head and launches back into action. Reaching for my waist, he pulls me forward until he’s straddling me. His face is level with my chest now, and I start panting just as hard as him when I feel the
warmth of his breath on my skin. I want his mouth there. I want his tongue and his teeth.
He slides one hand into my hair again, tugging enough that I arch my back and bare my throat to him with a sigh. He licks his way down my neck before sweeping his tongue just over the edge of my bra cups, like he’s delivering payback for what I did with his jeans.
When he pulls my hair a little harder, I can’t hold back a violent stream of French curses.
“Encore, encore, encore,” I start to chant.
Again, again.
I need it again. I need it over and over and over again.
He repeats the process: kissing his way even slower down my neck before running his tongue over my breasts. When he adds a few nips of his teeth, I hiss and buck against him. My nails dig into his sides so hard they’re in danger of leaving marks.
He fumbles with the clasp of my bra, and I fling it across the room when he’s done. He lets out his own collection of curses when I’m finally bared to him. The cool air of the room makes me shiver. My nipples are already hard, every part of me aching for him. He stares at me for a long moment, so long that I gasp with shock when he drops his head and starts running his mouth over every inch of skin he can reach. He kisses and licks and sucks on my breasts, moving in a frenzy like he’s on a countdown and has to make the absolute most of every second. I shudder every time I feel the graze of his teeth, and it doesn’t take him long to figure out how much I like that.
He slows down enough to gently close his teeth over one of my nipples, increasing the pressure until I see stars. I let out a squeal and writhe against him, my hands flying up to tangle themselves in his hair.
“Ah, mon dieu, that feels so good.”
He lifts his head up to look at me, and his eyes are hungrier than I’ve ever seen them before.
“I want you naked.”
Naked.
I want to be naked for Zach. I want it so bad it knocks the wind out of me.
I pull my lip between my teeth and blink once, twice, and then roll onto my back and start tearing the rest of my clothes off like they’re on fire.
When I’m finally spread out on the mattress, totally naked except for my belly button ring, all I can do is watch him take in the sight of every curve and dip and inch of skin. He drags his thumb along his bottom lip, and it’s so fucking sexy that my pussy twitches as I think about those lips between my legs.
My whole body trembles when I see something shift in his expression, a softness settling into all the hard lines of desire. He’s not looking at me like I’m Taverne Toulouse’s fast-talking, pink-haired princess known for dancing on bars and making every night a good time. He’s not looking at me like I’m the life of the party, like I’m a distraction or a joke or the sort of entertainment that’s good for a few rounds.
He’s looking at me like he sees me.
If I was ready to let myself go that far, I’d say he’s looking at me like he loves me.
I shiver again and sit up, wrapping my arms around my knees as my face flushes. I’ve never felt so exposed to someone before, so laid open and bare. It’s like he can see beneath my skin.
“DeeDee...”
He shifts closer and hooks a finger under my chin, tilting my face up so I have to look at him. “You are so, so beautiful.”
He leans in to kiss me soft and slow. I hook my hands behind his neck and let myself fall into the moment. I let his hands reassure me as they roam my body. I let the taste of him block everything else out. The way he touches me makes me feel beautiful. I can’t be anything but precious and treasured when he holds me like this. I let the feeling fuel me, let it make me strong until the hunger sparks to life inside us both once more.
The kiss deepens, his tongue slipping inside my mouth to taste me. My skin burns at every point of contact between us. I need more of that fire. He flips me onto my back and spreads my legs, pausing with a hand on each of my knees. He sucks in a breath as he stares at me. I’m sure he can see how wet I am. I can already feel it.
“Jesus Christ...”
I gasp when he reaches to trail a finger between my legs. His touch is feather-light, but he’s got me so worked up even that makes me twitch. My hands fist the sheets.
“Yes, touch me,” I murmur as I squeeze my eyes shut. “Please, please, please.”
He lowers himself onto his stomach. I twitch again at the feeling of his breath on my bare pussy, but he doesn’t put his mouth on me yet. He keeps teasing me with his finger, pushing in and pulling all the way out in long, slow strokes before trailing his soaked finger up to my clit.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. All I can do is feel and fall as he starts to circle the most sensitive part of me. He only gives me a few strokes before he slides two fingers inside me and latches his mouth onto my clit. I gasp again, my back curving in a violent arch as my hands fly from the sheets to his hair. He works me with a slow, steady rhythm that’s got to be some form of torture, barely brushing my clit with his tongue. I can feel myself squeezing around his fingers as I grind against his mouth for more.
He starts pumping into me faster, shaping his tongue into a hard point and increasing the pressure. My moans sound like they’re coming from far away.
I start murmuring his name, chanting it over and over again as every other word in every other language slips away. All I can feel is pressure, everywhere, building and building until I want to scream. It’s so much. I can feel every moment that led to this moment, feel the pleasure and pain and heartache and happiness. Every moment since we met has been leading us here.
This is where I’m meant to be. This is how it’s supposed to happen. I can’t fight it, not now. I have to give in. I have to surrender. It’s so, so much.
“Zach, Zach, Zach, I...I...”
Everything goes black. I throw my head back, and I think I’m crying out his name, but I can’t hear or see a thing. It’s like I’m outside my own body. I’m gone, flying far beyond anything I’ve ever felt before as every muscle I have tenses up and then finally, finally releases.
The pleasure rolls through me in waves, each one bringing me a little farther down. I can hear myself breathing now, gasping like someone who’s just been pulled back from the brink of drowning. I drop my hands from Zach’s hair and lay completely still for a few moments.
I hear him shifting around, and I lift my head so I can meet his gaze. He still has his fingers inside me. I twitch and gasp when he pulls them out. A shaky sigh leaves me when he slips them into his mouth and licks them clean. If I wasn’t so totally spent, that alone would have me ready to go again.
He makes his way up the bed to lay down beside me, pulling me into his arms so I’m cradled against his chest.
“Zach,” I say from where my head is tucked under his chin. “I...I...”
“I know,” he whispers. “I know.”
I hum and wiggle in closer. We lay there for a minute or two. My heartbeat has only just started to slow when I realize he’s still hard for me—so hard it has my heart pounding all over again as heat settles between my legs.
I wiggle a little more.
“Is there something you want, DeeDee?” he teases.
“Nahhh,” I drawl.
“You sure?”
I press my pelvis right up against his cock. “Is there something you want?”
“DeeDee,” he warns.
“Oooh,” I taunt, “scary.”
I reach for his jeans. I get the belt undone and then pull down the zipper. He shifts so I can slide them down his thighs and sighs with relief when it’s only his boxers holding his cock back. I can see the outline of it straining against the fabric. He closes his eyes when I run my fingers along the bottom of his stomach.
“That feels—”
I dip my hand into his boxers without any warning and fist his cock. Whatever he was going to say gets lost on a groan. I feel his body go rigid beside me. I start sliding my fist up and down, but he pulls my hand away after a few pumps.
“DeeDee, that feels too good. I—”
“Fuck me.”
If I thought kissing him was intoxicating, feeling his cock in my hand is like some kind of spell. My throat has gone dry with how bad I want him, and I can’t think of anything but getting him inside me as fast as I can.
“I want your cock in me.”
My accent makes the English words sound extra harsh and dirty, and I can tell he likes it. He freezes for a moment before he rips his jeans all the way off.
“Please tell me you have condoms,” he mutters as he kicks them to the floor.
“Um, somewhere.” I look past him at all the boxes scattered around my room.
In just his boxers now, he climbs off the bed and starts digging around in the closest box.
“This one looks like it’s just clothes...Oh.” He pulls out a lacy black bodysuit I haven’t had the chance to wear yet, and his eyes go wide. “Oh fuck.”
“Zach!” I snap. “Condoms.”
“Right.” He moves to the next box. “Uh, oh, this one looks promising. Yes! Condoms!”
He pulls the package out and chucks it over his shoulder at the bed, missing my head by an inch.
“Zach!” I shout. “You almost hit me in the face with condoms!”
“Oh, uh, sorry.” He makes his way back to the edge of the bed. “Can you get one out?”
I pull the string of foil packets out of the box and rip one off. When I look back up at Zach, he’s stepping out of his boxers. I forget all about whatever snarky comeback I was going to use and pull my lip between my teeth as I stare at his cock.
It’s perfect. I don’t know where I want it more: in my mouth or pounding into my pussy.
“Here,” I mutter, passing him the condom packet.
I don’t take my eyes off his cock as he rolls it on. Seeing him stroke himself like that is hypnotic. I swallow hard before moving back farther on the bed. He sets himself up like he’s waiting for me to get on my back again, but that’s not how I want him right now. I shift onto all fours instead.
