Holding Her Hand

by Tammy Falkner

  I nod, and then he kisses me, and I lose any fears I had about whether or not he wanted me to stay, because he’s pressed hard against my belly. He rocks against me, and I grab hold of his shoulders.

  He takes me to his bedroom, and I know that I will never, ever be the same. Not ever.

  Ryan

  She trembles in my arms and I have never felt anything as sweet as this girl feels in my arms. I’ve had girlfriends. I’ve had sex. But I’ve never had sex with a girlfriend I cared about the way I care about her. She consumes my waking moments and then she meets me in my dreams.

  I lay her back on my bed, and she stares up at me, her dark hair a halo on the pillow around her. I pull my shirt over my head and lean on one knee between her spread legs, balancing myself over her.

  She pulls her lower lip between her teeth and bites down. When she lets it go, I can see the imprint of her teeth in the tender skin, so I suck it into my mouth and lave it gently with my tongue.

  She moans against my lips. I can feel the rumble of it in her chest.

  I can’t talk to her while I’m hovering over her, so I ease down beside her. “Do you want to talk?” I ask.

  She smiles and shakes her head.

  I smile back. I can’t help it. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

  She shakes her head again and her smile grows even wider.

  “Do you want to get naked?”

  She laughs against my chest and nods.

  “Are you sure?”

  Her hand falls in the sparse dusting of hair on my chest and she scratches me lightly, and it shoots straight to my dick. I reach down and adjust him behind my zipper. Her eyes follow my movement.

  “Did you want to talk?” she asks. She grins cheekily at me.

  I shake my head. She bends her head and tongues my nipple, and then catches it tightly between her teeth. I cry out and lurch back, covering it with my hand. “Sharp teeth!”

  She laughs. “Sorry! You jerked!”

  I grab the edge of her shirt and lift it until I expose her bra. “Let’s see how you like teeth,” I say, and I attack her nipple from outside her bra, snarfing and growling playfully as I rub my face all over it. She giggles and I can feel it move from her body into mine.

  I help her pull her shirt over her head, and then I stop, because unveiling her will be like taking a cover off a precious piece of art, and I want to savor every moment of it. “May I?” I ask, and I point to the bra hook that’s between her breasts.

  She nods, still chewing on that lower lip.

  I unhook the delicate clasp and pull the two sides apart. She squeezes her eyes shut and her breaths fall heavy against my forehead. “So pretty,” I say out loud. Her breasts are small and round, with perfect rosy nipples.

  “So are you,” she replies.

  I take her nipple into my mouth and tug it gently, my hand cupping the tender underside of her breast. She squirms for a second, and then she freezes. Her hand threads into the hair at the back of my head and she holds me in place. I look up at her without releasing her nipple, and she finally sees me, and nods her head. This is okay, she lets me know. This is fine. This is what I want. This is us.

  She smells like vanilla and lilacs, like cookies and subtle flowers, and she tastes like heaven. Her nipple pebbles against my tongue, and I release it long enough to pay the same attention to the one on the other side.

  She tugs my hair, so I look up. “You’ve done this before?” she asks.

  “Sex?”

  She nods.

  “Yes.” I almost wish I could say no, but I’d be lying. “Are you afraid?” I stare into her eyes while I give her nipples gentle tugs with my fingertips, elongating them. Her mouth falls open.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she says. She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a breath. I can feel the rise and fall of her chest.

  “I’m afraid of you,” I confess out loud.

  She freezes. “Why?”

  “The others…they were nothing. What I feel for you… I can’t even describe it. I feel like I’m coming home after a long trip. Like this is where I was always meant to be.”

  “Even though I’m hearing?” she asks.

  “Yes.” I nod at her. “You’re you. I never realized you were missing. But you were. And now you’re here and I feel like I’ve come home. Is that stupid?”

  She laughs. “No.” She stares into my eyes. “It’s perfect.”

  I kiss her belly and pop the button on her jeans, taking a minute to run my hands over the scars on her belly. “Can I kiss you down here?”

  She nods and helps me take off her jeans and panties, lifting her bottom before I slide them down her legs and over her feet. Her legs are slender like her arms, and there are more spatter scars from the hot oil accident. Her belly is bumpy from actual burns and skin grafts, and I take the time to run my hands all over it, letting her know that it’s okay, that I like every inch of her.

  I kiss her over her mound, letting my lips linger until she squirms and opens her thighs ever so slightly. I push them wider, skimming my fingers up and down the soft, supple skin of her inner thighs. She wiggles her hips and I blow gently across her folds, which are glistening and pink and waiting for me to taste her. Her pussy is bare and damp, with just a tiny tuft of hair at the top of her crease. I would take her pussy any way I could get it, but I particularly love that she shaves.

  I lick her slit, watching her face closely. She closes her eyes and fills her lungs with air as her hands fist in the quilt under her. I can’t get quite close enough, so I palm her ass, lift her to my mouth, and suck her clit between my lips, tonguing it gently but fiercely, because I need for her to come quickly. I need for her to come before I come in my pants. I need to feel her shatter.

  Her hips find a rhythm against my tongue, and I use the flat of it to lick her clit. Her thighs begin to tremble on each side of my head, and they lift to press against my ears as she thrusts against my mouth.

  Then she falls apart. I feel it when it happens, and I watch her all the way through it, not releasing my grip on her ass or my frantic pace against her clit until she tries to pull away from me. She’s probably sensitive now that she came, so I slow my tongue, bringing her back down. Her belly clenches in small spasms and I wish my dick was inside her so I could feel them. Some men say they can’t feel the tremble in a pussy, but if you’re inside a woman and you just made her come like crazy, you pay attention and you enjoy every second of it. I watch her body, and stop moving my tongue when she falls replete against the bed. She lays a hand on her chest and stares up at the ceiling, her breaths falling harshly, her chest heaving.

  I wipe my face on the quilt and climb up to lie beside her. “You came like crazy, right?” I gloat and pretend to pat myself on the back.

  She rolls toward me and hooks a leg over my hip. My dick pulses, already reaching for her heat. “Do you have a condom?” she asks.

  I nod and reach behind me, pull open a drawer, and get a condom. She takes it from me and rips it open with her teeth.

  “Can I do it?” she asks.

  I nod and watch her as she sinks down a little lower in the bed. Her fingertips play around the head of my dick.

  “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you,” she says.

  I take her hand in mine and squeeze it. “It’s a dick,” I tell her. “You’re not going to break it. Be as rough as you want.”

  She laughs and rolls the condom down until it’s snug at the base of my cock. I tug it a little lower, and then I roll on top of her. I press against her center, and she freezes.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, using my voice.

  She tilts her hips. “Yes. I’m sure.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She hooks her legs around my hips and pulls me with her heels, and I slide into her slowly. Her mouth falls open and a breath of wind escapes her, and then nothing. She clenches her eyes tightly closed, and the greedy walls of her pussy suck at me.

  “Are
you okay?” I ask.

  She nods and nudges me forward again with her heels. I go a little deeper. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to pound into her. But she’s precious to me. I want to make this okay for her. I want to make it memorable. I want to not bust a nut until she’s satisfied too. But I’m not sure that’s going to be possible, not with her wrapped so tightly around me, taking me inside her.

  When I’m as deep as I can go, I lift up on my arms and start to move. Her eyes open and she stares into mine. “Yes,” she says. I can see the word on her lips and feel it in her body, feel it as she takes all of me again and again. She arches to meet me, and she’s so damn tight.

  “I can’t hold back,” I warn. She looks at me and shakes her head. She doesn’t know what I said. “I’m going to come,” I explain.

  She nods. I stop and look at her, really look at her. She’s breathing hard, and sweat dots her forehead. But she’s not satisfied.

  “Are you hurting?” I ask.

  She cups the side of my face with her hand and kisses me. “I’m not hurting.”

  “It’s your first time. I don’t want to go too fast.”

  She tilts her hips and I slide in a little deeper. She clutches my forearms. Apparently, the angle change was perfect, because she claws the backs of my arms and holds on to me, her legs lifting higher to take more of me. I press her thigh against her chest and fuck her harder, thinking about cheeseburgers and ice cubes to keep from coming. My third grade science teacher.

  She taps my shoulder so I’ll look at her. “Now,” she mouths, and her eyes close as she comes apart in my arms. She falls over the cliff, and she takes me with her. I wrap my arms around her tightly, pounding through the orgasm, pushing inside her as far as I can go, coming deep in the condom, deep in her, and nothing ever felt quite so right.

  Until she starts to cry.

  Oh, shit. She’s crying, and I’m still semi-hard inside her. A tear tracks down the side of her face, across her temple and into her hair. She turns her face away from me.

  I pull out of her tight sheath, hissing as my sensitive dick protests the retreat, and take her face in my hands. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  Her shoulders shake, but she wraps her arms around me. I roll to the side, taking my weight off her, and pull her to rest on my chest. She wipes her face on my naked chest and sniffles.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again. “I didn’t mean to.”

  She lifts her head and rests her chin on my chest. “You didn’t mean to what?” She smiles softly at me.

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “I’m sorry I got snot all over you.” She laughs and wipes beneath her eyes.

  “I made you cry. I deserve some snot.” I roll her onto her back. “We can do it again. I can make you come with my mouth. With my fingers. I can do better.”

  “If you did any better, I’d die,” she says. Then she giggles, her chest rocking under mine.

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry I got emotional. It was a big thing.”

  “Sex?” I’m a guy. I just had an orgasm, so my brain is mush.

  “Sex with you. First-time sex. Losing my V-card sex.” She wipes her nose again. “I didn’t expect it to be so good. My sisters said their first times pretty much sucked ass.”

  “It was good?”

  She nods. “Yes.” She shoves my shoulder. “Stop fishing for compliments!”

  I flop back against the bed. “Oh, thank God,” I rush to say. “I thought I hurt you or made you unhappy or something.” I lift my head. “You’re really okay?”

  She gets up, picks up my t-shirt and pulls it down over her head. She points to my dick, which is still wrapped in a used condom. “You might want to take care of that. We made a bit of a mess.” Her cheeks flush and I look down to find light pink blood on my quilt.

  I jump up and take care of it all, grabbing a fresh quilt as she takes care of herself in the bathroom. I knock on the door when she hasn’t come out. She opens the door a crack and walks away from it. Steam billows out of my bathroom from the shower, and I go in to find her getting in it. My t-shirt is in a lump on the floor, and her naked bottom disappears behind the shower door.

  I run a frustrated hand through my hair. I have never really cared how a girl felt after sex, but all I can do is care about how this one feels, because I care about her more than I could ever imagine.

  The shower door opens. “Do you want to come in with me?” she asks. She looks down at my quickly hardening dick and bites her lower lip.

  I do what any honorable man would do. I go get another condom and get in the shower with her. “Are you sore?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Not yet.” She grins at me and turns her face to the water.

  I put my hands on her shoulders and step close behind her, my dick already reaching for her heat. But then I feel it. She’s trembling. She looked so composed and so happy and she was so soft in my arms a minute ago. But now she’s stiff as a board and she’s shaking.

  “You’re not okay, are you?” I ask next to her ear.

  She leans her elbows on the shower wall and presses her forehead against the tiles. Then she shakes her head.

  I gently take her shoulders and turn her to face me. I can’t talk to her with her facing away. She leans heavily against the wall. “Did you come in here because you needed a minute away from me?”

  She nods and looks everywhere but at me.

  Okay. I’ll give her that. I have no idea what’s going through her head, but I know it’s my fault. I know she needed a break from me and she still needs a break from me. Or from what she’s feeling. I don’t know which. Maybe both.

  I want to draw her into me and cuddle her, but I don’t think that’s what she needs.

  I want to give her every single thing she needs.

  I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my hips. The mirror mocks me, telling me I’m a stupid bastard who went too far.

  I crack the door of the shower and she looks at me. I can’t tell if she has water in her eyes or if they’re swimming in tears. “We went too fast, didn’t we?” I ask.

  She nods, holding my gaze with hers. It’s almost as though she stabs me in the chest with a knife when she jerks her eyes from mine and dips her face into the spray.

  I walk out of the bathroom, not knowing what the hell I’m supposed to do now.

  Lark

  I sink down to the shower floor and sit on the cool tiles, tipping my head so that the spray of the water hits the crown of my head. I stay that way until the shaking subsides. Then I wash my hair with his shampoo, wash with his soap, and turn off the water. I’ll smell like a man, but I don’t care.

  I look around the room. Pieces of him are everywhere. There are notes stuck to the mirror and pictures he drew. He likes to draw cats and turn them into cartoons with silly sayings on them. I laugh out loud, and then I cover my mouth, because I don’t want him to think I’m laughing it up in here. Then I remember that he couldn’t hear my chuckle, and my shoulders ease.

  I stare into the mirror and wipe away the smudged mascara that’s still under my eyes.

  I hate that I cried. But it was so perfect. It was him and me, and we made something so beautiful. I’ve had orgasms before—self-manipulated—but I’ve never had anyone studying my movements to find out what feels good to me, and I know that’s what he’d been doing. He analyzed me and adjusted, making it as good for me as possible. And it was amazing. But there was something missing. If I just knew what it was.

  The only people I have ever allowed into my life are my sisters and Marta and Emilio. Everyone else is a casual acquaintance. I don’t get close to anyone, because I have always worried that if I do, I’ll lose them. I’ll do something stupid and they’ll be gone. So the fact that I’m feeling so deeply for Ryan after such a short time is scaring the hell out of me. I don’t want to mess it up.

  I wrap a towel around myself
and open the door. The bedroom door is open and he’s gone, so I step into the room. I open his drawer and see a neatly folded pile of t-shirts. I pull one out and pull it down over my head. It hangs down almost to my knees. Then I go to find Ryan.

  I find him in the middle of the living room. The lights are dim and he’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. I cover my mouth with my hand because he’s lighting candles. That’s just about the sweetest thing I ever saw.

  He looks up and his face softens when he sees me. “I thought maybe we could talk,” he says.

  “Ok.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “No.”

  He bustles around lighting more candles. “Do you want to take a hot bath? I heard it helps with…” He motions below his waist, his cheeks reddening. “…that.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” He really looks worried, and I feel bad that I caused him to feel like this.

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  He sits down on the couch and pats the spot beside him. I sit down and he lifts my feet, pulling my shins across his lap. He uses one hand to massage my legs while he talks with the other. “When I was twelve, I decided that I wanted a cochlear implant,” he suddenly says.

  “You did? Really?”

  He nods. “A few of the kids at school had gotten them, and I wanted one too.”

  “You didn’t get it, did you?” I look at his ears.

  He shakes his head. “No. My parents wouldn’t allow it. They told me I could do whatever I want when I turned eighteen and could pay for it myself.”

  “Why didn’t they want you to have one?” I lean back against the arm of the couch and get comfortable.

  “Both my parents are deaf. My grandparents are deaf. It’s part of who we are. It would be like changing the color of my skin or the color of my eyes, to them. I wouldn’t be who I am anymore.”

  “Did you agree with them?”

  “Not immediately. But with time, I grew more comfortable.”

  “Do you think about getting one now?”

  “Never.”

  “Really?”

  He shakes his head. “Never.” He winces. “I think that’s why they would prefer for me to date a deaf girl, since we would come from similar cultures.”