by Mary Frame
“Are you okay?” Jensen asks me when we’re doing dishes after dinner. He had a meal of salad, roast chicken and potatoes waiting for me when I got home. Home to his house, not mine.
“Yes. Why?”
“You were quiet during dinner,” he says. “Something on your mind?”
He shuts the dishwasher and pushes some buttons to start it before I answer.
“Yes,” I say finally.
“Well.” He takes my hand and leads me to the living room couch. “What is it?” he asks once we are seated.
He’s still holding my hand and I look down at our linked fingers.
May as well jump right into the fire. “Are we exclusive?” I ask.
I lift my gaze to his and I find him examining me closely. “Why are you asking me this?”
The fact he answered with a question makes me nervous. “Are you afraid to answer?” I ask. My mind starts racing. Maybe he doesn’t want to be exclusive. Maybe after all that, Freya was right.
“Why would I be afraid?”
I sigh. “Are we going to keep asking each other questions or should one of us answer eventually?”
“Fine. You first.”
“But I asked the first question.”
“But your answer to my question will determine the answer to yours.”
I consider the implications of that statement. “Fine. We seem to be participating in something akin to a romantic relationship, but I’m not aware of the boundaries of said relationship. In addition, I’ve never been in this type of situation before and I would prefer to have things out in the open and know exactly how to define…us.”
He nods. “That’s fair.”
But then he doesn’t say anything, he just looks at me and I think he’s suppressing a smile and I begin to feel a bit of frustration burning around the edges.
“And?” I ask.
“And what?”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“Lucy.” He takes my hand that’s still tied with his and lifts it to his mouth to kiss the inside of my palm before holding it to his chest. “I’ve shared all my secrets with you. We’ve practically lived together for the last six days. You met my evil parents. I’ve given you the key to my place, and you have your toothbrush here. What do you think that means?”
I think it through. “That you’re needy and a little lazy?”
He laughs and slugs me gently in the shoulder with his free hand. “It means we better be exclusive or you need to tell me if there’s some other guy whose ass I need to kick.”
I feel the burn of a blush creeping up my neck. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he says. “Now come here and cuddle before you have to leave me.”
Cuddle appears to be synonymous with make out and feel up because that’s what we do for the next hour, lying on his couch and facing each other, working ourselves into a frenzy only to have Jensen pull away.
“You better go before I make you stay,” he warns.
“I wouldn’t mind.” My body is screaming for more, but I don’t want to pressure him.
“I have to get up early for class and I don’t want to wake you up. But I wouldn’t mind so much either.” Those perfect lips move in and he kisses my nose. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
It’s freezing outside, but he treads across the porch in his socks and waits while I unlock my door. I’m grateful for the cold air, hoping that it will calm my racing hormones and heated body. Once my door is open, I turn and he pecks me on the lips before giving me a tight hug.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.
I watch him get halfway across the porch before I turn and step inside. It feels colder in here than it did at Jensen’s. The light from the porch filters in through the window on the door, enough for me to see, at least. I shrug out of my jacket in the near darkness and hang it up before kicking off my shoes and shoving them in the closet by the door. I start heading down the hall towards the bathroom when there’s a knock at the door making me head back and open it again.
It’s Jensen. Standing there much like he was that first time a few weeks ago when I locked him out of his house. Hands in pockets, leaning back on his heels.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I return.
And before I can say anything else, ask why he’s come back or what’s going on, he’s taken a few rapid steps in my direction. His arms surround me and he lifts me up, kicking the door shut behind him and pressing my back against the wall while kissing me like we didn’t just finish a two-hour make-out session.
My blood, already heated and barely cooled down, immediately fires through my body and I wrap my legs around his waist, arching against him and hardly caring if I’m too heavy or if it will be even harder to let him go when he invariably puts a halt to the proceedings and leaves me again.
But apparently I don’t have to worry about any of that because he carries me, wrapped around him, still kissing, down the hall stumbling through the dark and running his shoulder into the wall twice before getting to the bedroom. He sets me down on the edge of the bed. A sliver of moonlight filters through the thin curtains into the room, enough for me to see the heat in his eyes and the tension in his body.
“I can’t wait anymore,” he says, tugging his shirt over his head and throwing it somewhere behind him before reaching towards me.
I scoot back on the bed and he crawls towards me, eyes full of intent.
“Thank god,” I manage before he’s on me, kissing my mouth, nipping at my neck, and then pulling my shirt over my head and disposing of my bra within seconds.
We still have our pants on but the feeling of his bare chest rubbing against mine is enough to make me moan into his mouth.
He pulls back and watches me in the moonlight, cupping my face in his hands. “You are so beautiful,” he says quietly.
“So are you,” I say.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“Why?”
“This isn’t going to take very long and it might be disappointing.”
“I doubt that.”
He chuckles a bit and leans forward, kissing me gently on the lips.
We help each other pull off the rest of our clothes and then we’re skin to skin everywhere, lying on our sides facing each other. Our mouths meld, his tongue stroking into my mouth while his hands do wicked things between my legs, and within seconds I’ve lost all coherent thought.
“Do you have any condoms?” he asks against my throat.
“No,” I say.
He curses and my brain wakes up a little. “There’s no need,” I assure him. “I’ve been on birth control since I was sixteen due to an irregular menstrual cycle. Plus, condoms are only eighty percent effective while birth control is ninety-nine percent effective against preventing pregnancy. Besides, neither condoms nor birth control protect you from sexually transmitted diseases. I can assure you that I’m clean,” I say. “I’ve been tested and I have the results on file if you would like to review them?”
His head drops to my shoulder and he starts shaking with laughter.
“Is that humorous?” I ask.
He lifts his head to meet my eyes. “Yes,” he says, his deep voice laced with humor. “It’s funny because you talk like that and it shouldn’t be hot, but it is.” And then he takes my mouth with his again.
Everything swirls into sensation, my hands roving over his body, his hands playing my body like an instrument until finally he’s settled between my legs and I can feel him sliding against me with a gentle pressure that’s making me crazy.
I’ve never felt so out of control before. I want him so badly and I want him now, and I feel like he’s intentionally driving me to frustration. We’re still kissing as he slides against me, up and down, teasing me further until I arch against him and moan his name.
He pulls his face back from mine, holding himself up with his arms to look into my eyes and then with a slow stroke he’s inside of me. Once fully seated, he
stills and watches my face.
“Are you okay?” he asks after a minute of clutching each other in the most intimate embrace ever.
“Yes,” I say.
“I was a little worried since I know it’s been awhile for you, and you only had the one partner—”
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” I assure him. “He was very well-endowed.”
His brows push together slightly. “What?”
“It was quite uncomfortable. This is much more manageable.”
His mouth pops open and a noise that’s a cross between a groan and a laugh emerges. “This is much more manageable?” he repeats in a strangled voice.
“Yes.”
“As opposed to your science club lover who was, apparently, the size of a horse?”
I nod.
He throws his head back and laughs before leaning into me and resting his forehead on my shoulder, still shaking with laughter.
“Is it normal to laugh this much during intercourse?” I wonder out loud.
“Normal is underrated,” he says, his breath fanning out against my collar bone. He pulls back to look into my face.
“I have to tell you, though,” he says. “If there was anything you could have said to encourage me to make this the best time you’ve ever had, that was it.”
I shake my head at him. “You males and your propensity for competition.”
“I wouldn’t knock that inclination if I were you. As a matter of fact, if you were smart you would encourage it.”
“I would?”
“You might find the results satisfactory.”
We grin at each other like fools.
After a moment, he moves slightly against me.
In response, I wiggle underneath him and run my hands down his body, encouraging him to move. Our smiles falter as passion overtakes our humor.
With a groan he complies, but slowly. Oh so slowly pumping in and out, teasing me again, making me squirm and pant and attempt to make him move quicker but he doesn’t, and I reach a point where I think I can’t possibly take it anymore. He’s still holding himself above me, watching me get more and more turned on by his movements, his eyes getting more and more heated. I squirm underneath him, rising up to meet his slow thrusts, pulling at him and trying to make him go harder, faster. Then without warning he changes the angle and slams into me hard. Once, twice, and I’m quaking and shaking underneath him as an intense orgasm rips through my body, making my eyes shut of their own accord. When I open them again, it’s just in time to see him shudder and moan and then his eyes close and his head drops to my shoulder as his own release races through him.
We lie there, panting, sweating, and boneless for a few minutes before he rolls off and gathers me against him.
“Wow,” I say against his chest.
“Yeah,” he agrees, running his hand lightly over my back. “That was…” instead of finishing the sentence with words, he chuckles softly and tightens his hold across my back.
“Yeah,” I say.
After a minute, we clean up in the bathroom, both of us naked and I take a moment to appreciate Jensen in the bright lighting.
He’s muscular in all the right places without being overly so and that part of him that was inside me only minutes ago is beginning to stiffen again.
He catches me staring and looks down at himself before returning his gaze to mine with a small smile. “I can’t help it,” he says. “You realize I’m in a near constant state of arousal when you’re around.”
That makes me smile. “Really?” I ask. We finish in the bathroom and head back into the darkened bedroom.
“Really,” he says, sliding into the bed.
I get in on the other side and we move towards each other, meeting in the middle, his arms wrapped around me from behind and something hard poking into my back.
“Ever since the very beginning?” I ask. “When we first met?”
“Hmmm. I think it started when I saw you with that handlebar mustache.”
I gasp in feigned surprise. “Ted’s right, you are gay!”
He laughs, his chest rumbling against my back and he squeezes me a little tighter. “I think I’ve just unequivocally disproved those allegations.”
“I’m not sure,” I say, wiggling my rear against him. “I might need further proof.”
The movement makes him suck in a quick breath. “Really?” he sounds surprised but intrigued.
I flip around to face him, grabbing him between the legs gently and rubbing him against me so he can feel how ready I am for him.
“Really,” I say, nipping at his lips, and then I show him just how much he arouses me as well.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Should you shield the canyons from the windstorms you would never see the true beauty of their carvings.
–Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
