Double Exposition (Songs and Sonatas Book 1)

by Jerica MacMillan

  I take off my own pants, pushing my boxers down with them, and lean over to grab a condom out of the drawer in my bedside table.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gabby

  Jonathan is pulling a condom out of a box in his bedside table. And I don’t know what to think or feel anymore. One minute we’re kissing topless, which I was enjoying, and now we’re naked and there’s a condom next to me.

  Okay, I know what I’m feeling. I’m freaking the hell out.

  Because this is only the second time I’ve been in the presence of a condom that’s intended to be used with me.

  Yeah. So, when we talked about previous relationship history, I told him I wasn’t a virgin. Which is true. Barely. I lost it at a party on graduation night to Travis Martin. He was cute, and I’d had kind of a crush on him for a while. But it wasn’t good, and even though he asked for my number, I gave him a fake one.

  Granted, I hooked up with him just to get the whole losing-my-virginity thing over with. I know how guys are. Half of them are terrified of virgins. The other half see them as targets. I didn’t want to deal with either of those options by the time I got to college, so I figured I’d get it over with so it wasn’t an issue.

  The problem is that five minutes of a guy basically using me as a masturbation tool doesn’t feel like much in the way of experience.

  No one’s ever kissed me like Jonathan, and I do have experience there. I could seriously be happy just kissing him forever. When he started kissing more than my mouth, I was nervous at first, but he made me feel so good, that all I cared about was his tongue, his lips, and his fingers. God, his fingers. Sliding in me and around and over my clit again and again, I was getting close when he stopped. No one else has ever touched me like that before.

  Sure, I’ve done it for myself often enough, but it’s completely different when the fingers aren’t your own, wondering just where and how they’ll touch next. The unexpectedness almost as arousing as the touch itself.

  But now I’m naked, and so is Jonathan, and I’m feeling shy. My legs drift closed as I watch him, my eyes trailing down the broad, firm expanse of his chest, over his flat belly, following the treasure trail to its destination. His dick is a lot bigger than Travis’s. And Travis’s hadn’t felt that great, stretching me and making me sore. I didn’t bleed or anything, but I felt … used afterward. Not emotionally. Physically.

  Jonathan catches sight of my face, and the focus in his softens. He strokes a hand up my leg, back down, then both hands slide up my inner thighs, spreading me open again. Only this time, he can see everything.

  His gaze dips down, then back to my face. “Are you okay?”

  Biting my lip, I nod once, but I’m apparently not very convincing. Okay, I’m not convincing at all. I can tell.

  His hands move back up my sides, and he plants them on either side of my shoulders, bending over for a kiss. Our lips are now the only point of contact. He takes his time, savoring me, relaxing me.

  “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he says, dropping another sweet kiss on my mouth. “I just want to make you feel good.”

  He waits for my nod, this one accompanied by a soft, “Okay.” Crawling back up on the bed with me, he settles in like he was before, only this time there are no pants in the way. His fingers trail up and down my inner thigh, just firm enough not to tickle, like he’s getting me used to him touching there. His mouth is on mine again, his other hand tangled in my hair. He has a thing for my hair—running his hands through it, gripping it, using it to hold my head where he wants it. Which right now is tilted back so he can taste my mouth again. And I can’t get enough of his kisses.

  I want to touch him too, but I don’t know what to do with my hands. Should I touch his chest? His shoulders again? Somewhere else?

  Deciding it doesn’t matter, I run my hands up his arms, feeling the indent of his triceps, the bulge of his biceps as he holds himself over me.

  His fingers trail higher, higher, until they’re teasing over me again, right over my center. I suck in a breath, and he’s watching me, my every gasp, every reaction. I feel so exposed. More than I ever have before, and it’s not just because I’m naked. It’s like he sees me, completely. He’s paying attention.

  His fingers continue to stroke and pet until he’s sliding inside me again, into where I’m wet and hot. I can’t stop the helpless little sound that comes out of me when he touches me there like that.

  A satisfied smile comes to his face. “That’s it, Gabby. Let me take care of you. That feels good, doesn’t it?”

  He slides a finger deep inside, and my hips raise involuntarily as he strokes somewhere that feels like nothing I’ve ever felt before. But it’s so good. “Yes. Oh God. That’s … amazing.”

  Kissing me again, he slides another finger into me, his palm grinding into my clit, and I’m getting closer, reaching for the orgasm Jonathan is giving me, wanting to know what it’s like for someone to do that for me.

  When his hand stills and he breaks the kiss, I make a whimpering sound, which is completely unlike me. But he’s moving down my body, his tongue and lips playing with my nipples again for a moment. His fingers are still inside me, but the angle is changing as he moves, and he strokes me differently.

  He kneels between my legs, his free hand nudging one of my thighs to the side a little more. I expect him to reach for the condom next, and I tense a little, disappointed that he didn’t get me there before moving on to what he probably sees as the main event. I just hope it’s better than last time.

  But then he bends and places a kiss above my belly button. Another on each hip bone. And just above the dark curls that surround his hand. When his tongue slides from where his fingers still move inside me up and around my clit, I almost scream, both because it feels so good and is so surprising.

  I mean, I’m aware of oral sex. But in the same way that I’m aware of Russia or Japan. I know they exist, but have no personal experience with them.

  “Oh my God.”

  He does it again, his green eyes dancing with enjoyment as he looks up the length of my body.

  “What are you—you don’t have to—oh my God.”

  I can tell he’s smiling even though I can’t see his mouth. Because it’s currently buried … there. And he doesn’t pull away when he says, “I know. I want to.”

  His low voice vibrating against my most sensitive places, plus the feel of his breath, and then his tongue and his lips again is enough to have me smothering a gasp with my hand. That makes him pull away, reaching with his free hand for mine. “No. No one’s here. Don’t hold back. Let go. I want to hear you.”

  With my hand trapped in his, he resumes working me over with his mouth and his fingers, and I don’t know what to do, where to look, what to hold onto. Eventually my free hand makes its way to the pillow under my head, clutching it like I can use it to anchor myself, the fingers of my other hand digging into Jonathan’s, but he’s holding on just as hard.

  And oh my God. I’ve never felt anything like what he’s doing to me. Ever. It’s amazing, and I never want him to stop. With his fingers inside me rubbing against that secret spot I didn’t know existed, and his tongue scrubbing over my clit, I’m going to come harder than I ever have before. It’s good he doesn’t want me to be quiet, because I’m babbling and making all kinds of noise, and I couldn’t hold it in if I wanted to.

  He backs off for a second, his tongue drawing leisurely circles on my skin, then he starts in again, his fingers pumping hard, his lips closing around my clit, sucking it in while his tongue does something extraordinary, and—

  “Oh. My. GOD!”

  My whole body curls up with the force of my orgasm, my legs shaking, only the places Jonathan touches me anchoring me in reality, keeping the feeling going long after I expect it to end.

  When I finally collapse back on the bed, he withdraws his fingers from inside me, but never lets go of my hand, changing his grip so his fingers are threade
d through mine as he climbs over me, wiping his mouth with his free hand before kissing me. The pungent taste of my own fluids lingers on his lips, which weirds me out a little, but he drank them all down like it was no big deal, so I don’t want to seem like a prude by objecting.

  He keeps the kiss short, pulling back to look into my eyes. “Ready?”

  “Yes.” It comes out almost like a gasp. But if he can make me feel that good with his mouth, I wonder what else he can do. And I want make him feel good too.

  Grabbing the condom from the side table, he watches me the whole time as he rips open the foil packet and rolls the latex on. I can’t help letting my eyes drift down to watch his hands working over his length. He gives himself a squeeze, and I swallow, suddenly torn. I want to know what he feels like inside me, I want to share this experience with him, but I’m nervous it’s going to hurt.

  “Hey.” His voice pulls my eyes back to his. “Don’t be scared. I’ll go slow. Let me know if it’s too much, and I’ll stop, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  With that, he lines himself up and slides in just an inch, before withdrawing a tiny bit and pushing forward again. He continues working himself in, slowly, so slowly, until I think I’m going to go insane if I don’t feel him all the way inside me soon.

  I make some kind of sound, and his eyes, which have been focused on where our bodies are coming together, snap up to my face. Leaning forward, he kisses me and finds my hand to thread our fingers together once more. “I’ve got you, Gabby. You okay? Is this okay?”

  “Yeah,” I breathe. “It’s … good.” Good is maybe the dumbest word choice, but my brain is scrambled, and I don’t have the words to describe how I’m feeling.

  But this is nothing like it was with Travis. Even though Jonathan is bigger, the stretch doesn’t hurt. It feels … like it’s both creating and soothing an ache deep inside me. Every press forward increases that ache and makes me crave even more of him at the same time. And I want it now.

  Pressing my hips up to meet his drives him a little farther inside, and something in his face changes as I do that. He doesn’t change his pace at all. But my involvement means he’s driving further inside me with each stroke, and I can’t wait until he’s all the way in.

  When his hips press against mine, he stops moving, his lips capturing mine again, and I don’t care anymore about the fact that he tastes like me. All I care about is how amazing this is, how good he feels inside me, how much better this is than I could ever have imagined.

  He starts to move, and I roll my hips to match his rhythm. He smooths one hand down my hip to my thigh, lifting my leg so that it hooks around his waist, letting him sink in deeper. With a gasp, I arch into him, this new angle has him rubbing against that same spot he found with his fingers. His touch there before seems to have woken up those nerve endings, leaving me more sensitive to him now. And God, it feels amazing.

  He kisses me again, his tongue thrusting into my mouth as his hips move faster, pounding into me hard enough that I can’t keep up anymore. He moans into my mouth, breaking the kiss to whisper into my ear, “God, Gabby. You feel so good. You’re amazing and sexy, and I can’t get enough of you.”

  I wrap my other leg around him, and that spurs him on. He’s propped over me, and his arms are starting to shake, the muscles in his neck standing out as he moves faster. Then he thrusts hard and grinds himself against me, his face clenched tight. A few more shallow thrusts follow, and he pulses inside me before collapsing against me with his face against my shoulder. His weight presses me down into the bed, but I don’t mind. With my legs still wrapped around his waist, I stroke his hair, enjoying the feel of him against me.

  After a moment, he lifts his head, his eyes roaming my face, taking a quick inventory before pressing a kiss to my lips and pulling out. He disappears, and I don’t know what to do with myself. Should I get under the covers? Get dressed? Stay where I am?

  Before I come to any conclusions, he’s back, still half hard, but without the condom now. His smile is soft and tender as he lifts the blankets and climbs in, encouraging me to get in and cuddle up next to him.

  This is nice. With Travis, there’d been no affection afterward. It had been a quick and meaningless exchange. Nothing like this on any level. If this is how sex is supposed to be, I can see what all the fuss is about after all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jonathan

  Gabby lets out a funny squeak, then runs into my room and slams the door, her back pressed against it and her hands over her face. She has on her T-shirt and panties and nothing else.

  Grinning, I sit up and wait for her to tell me what happened. She doesn’t. “Hey.”

  Still nothing.

  I can’t help laughing. “Gabby, what’s going on?”

  “Um, I think I might’ve just met your roommate.”

  “What?” Throwing back the covers, I find my jeans and pull them on, not bothering with boxers right now.

  She peeks at me through her fingers. “Well, unless some other guy has a key to your house and wanders in unannounced?”

  “Tall guy? Brown hair? Glasses?” She nods, her fingers closing over her eyes again.

  Yeah, I can see why she’s embarrassed. Ben and I’ve been friends for years. He has a serious girlfriend, and I’d trust him with my life. Even with all that, I’m not thrilled that he saw Gabby like this. But what can I do?

  Running my hands up her arms till I get to her wrists, I gently tug her hands away from her face. She lets me, but keeps her eyes closed. I drop a kiss on her mouth and keep my voice soft, like I’m calming a skittish animal. “Get dressed, and I’ll introduce you. It’s about time you two met.”

  “Oh my God.”

  Even though I just came not that long ago, those words in her voice again send blood rushing south. She says them differently, whispering them instead of yelling them, but my dick doesn’t seem to care.

  I ignore it, though. There’ll be plenty of time to explore her more and see how many ways I can get her to say those words again later.

  For now, I pull her against me, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, Gabby. Ben’s a good guy. From the way you ran in here, you probably got away before he got an eyeful.”

  She shakes her head, her eyes finally opening, her expression miserable. “No, I didn’t. I came out of the bathroom right as he turned around from closing the door, keys in hand. I froze. And he froze. And then I ran into your bedroom. For all I know he’s still out there staring at the blank space where I was standing, frozen like a statue. Is my hair made of snakes? Maybe I’m Medusa all of a sudden. That might be okay. Then I wouldn’t have to talk to your roommate after he saw me run into your room practically naked. But you’re not a statue. So I guess not. Unless you’re immune, maybe?”

  Her nervous babbling is cracking me up, but I suppress my urge to laugh since she’s still upset. Instead I kiss her lips, just a quick peck, but it’s enough to interrupt the flow of words coming from her. “You’re not Medusa. Your hair is beautiful and not snake-like at all. I’m sure Ben isn’t a statue. And all the important bits are covered, so it’s not a big deal.”

  She looks at me like maybe my hair has turned to snakes. “Not a big deal? Are you serious right now?” She pushes me away and gestures at herself. “I’m wearing a shirt. And underwear. No bra. No pants. This isn’t how I want to be dressed when I meet your roommate.” Her cheeks start turning pink, and her voice turns into a harsh whisper. “He has to know what we’ve been doing. Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.” She covers her cheeks with her hands, shaking her head and refusing to meet my eyes. “Oh my God.”

  “Gabby, you have to stop saying that.” The way she twisted and writhed against me when she came, how hot and tight she felt when I finally got inside her, all of those things flash through my mind every time she says those words. And I don’t need a hard-on when I introduce her to my roommate.

  She looks up at the sudden sharpness in my voice. “What? Why?”


  I step close to her again, crowding her a little now, and pull her close against me. “Because. When you get close to coming you say ‘Oh my God, oh my God’ over and over again. So hearing you say it now makes me think of that, and it’s getting me all turned on again.”

  Her lips part, and I bend my head to kiss her again, lingering this time, slipping my tongue between her lips, but I make myself pull back, keeping in mind the fact that Ben’s home. Round two will have to wait.

  “Get dressed, Gabby. Ben’s a good guy. He won’t make you feel bad.”

  Her eyes are hopeful and trusting when she looks up at me. “Promise?”

  I nod. “And if he does, I’ll punch him in face, okay?”

  She giggles. “Okay. But not the face. You’ll hurt your hand as much or more than his face, and then you wouldn’t be able to play.” She steps out of my arms, and I let her, watching her glance around for her jeans, taking off her shirt to put her bra back on.

  I like having her here in my space, looking comfortable and freshly fucked. I want more of this for the long term. With her. It’s been a while since I wanted any kind of relationship. But with Gabby, the thought of this ending already has my gut clenching.

  I push that aside for now. May is months away. We might not even last that long. And if we do, we can figure out whatever needs to happen next when it’s closer to being an issue. Right now it’s September, and I’m going to enjoy this ride for as long as it lasts.

  She shoots me a little smile as she runs her hands through her hair, trying to smooth it out and make herself look presentable. Her eyes scan over my shirtless chest, and I feel suddenly self-conscious. She said she was a fan when she was younger. Did she have those posters? The ones with me in a Speedo, flexing my abs, water running down the grooves?