by Lane Hart
I’m not sure how long it lasts, minutes or hours, but the kiss gets better and better as something slowly builds between us, something that’s getting stronger and more addictive with each stroke of our tongues.
Eventually, Grant pulls away and stares down at me while we both gasp for breath. “I really like kissing you,” he says.
“I obviously like kissing you too,” I tell him with a grin.
“Will you come back tomorrow night and let me kiss you again?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Good,” he replies, leaning down to steal a quick kiss before he raises up. “So how late can you stay tonight?”
“What time is it?” I sit up and ask.
“Seven-thirty.”
“Shit! I have to go,” I tell him, throwing my leg off the ottoman. I’ve been here seven and a half hours? How is that possible?
“Easy. Go slow; it’s early,” Grant says to me. “And your ankle is still healing.”
Yeah, well, my ass is gonna be sprained if I don’t hurry up and get home. I didn’t tell my parents where I was going, and they’ve probably been texting me…
“So I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon?” Grant asks as he follows me to the door.
“Yeah,” I answer, if I’m not grounded. “I’ll call or text you for a time.”
“Good,” he says with a soft kiss on my cheek before I head out the door. “Bye, Sam.”
When I’m in my car, I pull my phone out and see that I have three missed calls from my mom and several from Hunter. So what do I do? I call Hunter back to ask for help.
“Hello, stranger,” he answers.
“Hey, have you talked to my parents today?” I ask him.
“Ah, no. I was waiting for your car to be home before I went over. I thought we were gonna go see that movie,” he says.
Shit.
“Sorry, I lost track of time. Can I use you as an alibi?” I ask.
“Why? Where have you been?” he asks suspiciously. Hunter’s almost a year younger than me, but he thinks he’s my big brother.
“With a friend,” I answer quickly. “Look, how many times have I covered for you while you snuck out to see your latest piece of ass?” I ask him but don’t pause long enough for him to reply. “So many times I’ve lost count, Hunter! So just this once will you please let me say we were at the movies? Please?”
The phone is silent as I turn onto my street, my house coming into view.
“Fine,” he eventually agrees. “But you better tell me where you really were.”
“I will, later,” I say to put him off.
“Okay. Where are you?” he asks.
“Pulling up to the house.”
“I’ll come out and go inside with you,” he says with a sigh.
“Thanks, Hunter! I owe you one.”
“Hell yeah you do,” he agrees before hanging up on me.
Chapter Nine
Grant
I don’t think I’ve ever kissed anyone as much as I’ve kissed Samantha this past week. Every night she comes over, staying anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours depending on how much homework she has. Each time it gets a little harder to let her leave. Then, I find myself counting down the time until I can see her again. Her presence is just so warm that I crave it during the hours I’m at work treating patients.
While most of my previous relationships have gotten right to sex by the second or third date, going slow with Samantha has given me a chance to get to know her. I enjoy just being near her and talking to her. Although, my tongue does spend a great deal of time exploring her mouth. I see her, and I want her. It’s that simple. And I seriously doubt I’m the only man who has such a reaction to her. Which is why I’m also going a little insane with jealousy.
Every time Sam talks about her “best friend”, I feel a little nauseous. Imagining her walking around campus, so bright and beautiful, surrounded by admirers all day long makes me want to vomit.
It’s not just because I consider her to be mine. That’s also true. But what’s more is that I worry incessantly about her. Although I don’t believe she’s a virgin, I hadn’t simply imagined her innocence. It’s definitely there and extremely potent, the equivalent of having a spotlight constantly shining on her. She’s so alluring that she could easily make a man get down on his knees and beg for the chance to take her to bed and dirty her up a little, to steal more of her virtue and lay claim to her.
Each and every night I imagine doing just that in various, and some rather deviant, ways. I’ve never jerked off so much in my life, not even when I was a teenager. Samantha calls to me in a way that’s new and different, more meaningful than all the other relationships I’ve had put together. It just goes to prove that sex isn’t everything. Intimacy can be so much more.
However, I can’t deny that I’m more than ready to sleep with Samantha. Just as I get ready to take things further with her, to ask her if she wants to join me in my bedroom, she jumps up and says she has to go home.
Today’s Sunday, and Sam’s coming over in the early afternoon, so there shouldn’t be any homework for her to rush off for or any other excuses for a while. I’m hoping we’ll get to spend hours together; and if Samantha says she’s ready, maybe we’ll finally get the chance to get naked and explore each other’s bodies, bringing us even closer.
…
Sam
“Where are you headed off to?” my dad asks from where he’s stretched out in the recliner watching basketball when I reach for the door knob Sunday afternoon.
“Ah, I’m meeting some friends at, um, Anna’s house to hang out,” I lie off the top of my head, and it's not even the least bit convincing.
“Oh, well, I’m glad to hear you’re spending more time with girlfriends rather than the rich prick next door,” Dad replies.
Damn, I’m surprised that he bought my explanation, and I’m not even slightly shocked about his opinion of Hunter. For whatever reason, he’s never liked my best friend, not even when we were in grade school.
Hunter’s family is ridiculously rich. The only reason they live in a nearly modest home next to us is because his father is the town’s mayor and has an image of being an “ordinary citizen” to uphold. The Bradshaws know everyone, and people are constantly kissing their asses for political favors. Except my parents, of course, who think Hunter and his parents are “pretentious, self-entitled, assholes.”
“So does that mean I can stay out a little later tonight?” I ask my dad, preying on his approval of my new, fake friends. “You know, since we’re just hanging out around the house?”
“Don’t push it. Tomorrow’s a school day so you should still be back by nine.”
“Fine,” I agree since there’s no reason to force the issue and have him ask more questions, like where does this Anna live, who are her parents, or will boys be there? Yeah, it’s best to avoid any questioning since I’m a horrible liar. Which reminds me of the lies I’ve told Grant.
On the short drive over to his house, I consider the best way for me to finally come clean to him since I’ve been feeling so freaking guilty lately. The closer we become, the more I know I need to just put everything out there.
But then, Grant answers the front door, looking devastatingly gorgeous without his glasses, and I know our time together will be spent like the previous nights this week. The first night that I noticed he wasn’t wearing his glasses, I asked him about them, and he said contacts made it easier to kiss me. I couldn’t argue with that.
Certain that we’re gonna spend the next few hours making out, which is so freaking nice, all thoughts of saying something that could possibly derail how amazing things are between us instantly goes out the window. Later. There will always be a time for that discussion later.
Without even a greeting today, Grant’s lips are on mine when I walk through the door, and then he’s picking me up and hauling me over to the sofa. And just like the other times before, his kiss soon turns demanding and desperate for
more. I feel the same way. So, when he presses me back onto the sofa, I willingly go. And after he lowers his heavy body on top of mine, I nearly combust with need, feeling his prominent erection grinding between my legs through our clothes, so hard and eager.
Last night was the first time he slipped his hand under my shirt and fondled my breasts. Today, he goes straight up there without any delay, squeezing one in his big palm and moaning like he likes it a lot and wouldn’t mind putting it in his mouth.
“I want you,” Grant whispers a few minutes later against my lips. “I know I said we should wait –”
“I want you too,” I interrupt him, eager for more.
“Thank God,” he mutters before his damp lips come down on the side of my neck and his hand wedges between our bodies.
I moan embarrassingly loudly when he cups me between my legs and presses his thumb down on my most sensitive spot through my jeans. It feels so good, better than anything I’ve ever felt before. And I’m so sure that I’m ready… until Grant pops the button on my jeans and begins dragging the zipper down. That’s when I’m suddenly overcome with nervousness.
“I’m a virgin!” I blurt out, and Grant’s hand and lips freeze before he pushes himself up to stare down at me in wide-eyed shock.
“Jesus, Sam!” he grumbles, moving further away from me, sitting back on his knees.
“I didn’t say that so you would stop,” I clarify.
“You’re a virgin! That…changes things,” he says while swiping a frustrated hand over his face.
“You…you don’t want me?” I ask.
“What?” he exclaims, glaring down at me. “Of course I want you! I’m just…I’m trying to figure out how to proceed here…”
“I liked what we were doing,” I tell him shyly.
“You’re not ready for that yet,” he informs me.
“Yes, I am,” I argue, sitting up on my elbows.
“How many hands have you had in your panties?” he asks.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment at his very direct question. “Um, none. Why?”
“Have you ever even seen a cock?” he inquires, arching a dark eyebrow as his palm reaches down to stroke the bulge in his pants.
I watch mesmerized at the movement before I comprehend his question. With a roll of my eyes, I reply, “Of course I’ve seen a –”
“Let me clarify. Have you ever actually touched one before?”
Grant takes my hand and places it over his erection.
Swallowing hard, I shake my head in response.
“Not even through clothing?”
I shake my head again.
“Jesus, Sam!” Grant exclaims before scrambling off the sofa, causing my hand to fall from him, yet he’s still careful not to jar my still healing ankle at the same time. On the way to his kitchen, he says over his shoulder, “I knew you were young, but I had no idea you were this inexperienced!”
His reaction hurts. His rejection angers me.
“Why does it matter?” I ask, unable to even look over at him with tears stinging my eyes.
“I’m ten years older than you. There’s a whole lot of shit I’ve done in those ten years that you obviously haven’t!”
“Again, why does it matter now?” I call back. “You’ve always known about our age difference.”
“It matters because now I feel like the things I want to do with you, and to you are wrong! Knowing how inexperienced you are…maybe you’re too young for me.”
“I’m not a child, Grant! I’m sorry if I’m not the slut you thought I was, but I know where things were headed. And, yeah, I’m a little nervous it will hurt the first time, but I still wanted to do it with you.”
“I can’t just take your virginity, Samantha. Maybe…maybe you should be with someone your own age instead of me. The vulgar things I like to do…the things I’ve done…” He shakes his head as he walks back into the living room with a beer in his hand as if to further remind me of our age difference --- that I’m not even old enough to legally drink.
“What? What have you done?” I sit up on the sofa and ask him.
Grant looks at me for several long seconds; his jaw clenched tightly before he replies.
“I like to tie women to my bed and fuck them however I want,” he says, watching me closely as if waiting for my reaction. “Sometimes I blindfold and gag them. I love to bite their nipples and spank them too. But what I enjoy most is wearing a strap-on so I can fuck them two different ways at the same time.”
Holy. Shit.
I wasn’t expecting all that.
Nevertheless, I swallow down my surprise as best I can and say, “Okay.”
“Okay?” Grant repeats with a shake of his head while standing before me, smiling as he takes another sip of beer. “Which of those is how you picture losing your virginity? I’m guessing none.”
“Not exactly, but I could work up to it.”
“Work up to it?” he echoes with a gruff chuckle, obviously laughing at me.
“Do you…have to do those things? Every time?” I ask.
“No, of course not. I just like to, with women who enjoy letting me have my way with them.”
“Lots of women?” I ask curiously.
Grant sips his beer as he watches me before answering. “Several, usually girlfriends I’ve been with a while, you know, so they can work up to it.”
“Then why can’t we work up to it?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Because at least they were already in the game, just sitting on the bench. You…you’ve never even stepped foot near the stadium.”
“Is that a baseball or football metaphor?” I ask with a huff. “Because I’m more of a track and field girl.”
“Fine,” he says. “They’re triathletes, and you’re still taking baby steps.”
He’s trying to be insulting, to push me away, but I’m not giving up that easily.
“Then it sounds like I just need some practice and a good coach,” I tell him. “And you’re probably a better coach than the boys my age who I hear are nothing more than amateur sprinters. Unless you’re insisting I should practice with them before you’re able to take me under your wing?” I prod, hoping his possessiveness will cause him to strongly disagree.
“No,” Grant answers gruffly with a shake of his head like I expected. “I just want you to understand what you’re getting yourself into. Think about this and be sure it’s what you really want.”
“Can you give me a preview?” I ask, playing coy.
“A preview?” he repeats. “Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you? First, you have to master the foreplay basics. The warm-ups, if you will.”
“Okay,” I agree. “Warm me up.”
Grant comes closer and stops about a foot away from where I’m sitting before tilting his head to the side, examining me with his mesmerizing blue eyes. “Our options are limited with your sprained ankle. I would have to get creative. If you’re sure this is what you want?”
“It is,” I agree anxiously, still incredibly turned on from our make-out session.
“Take your pants off,” Grant commands.
“What?” I ask. “I-I thought we were just warming up.”
He raises an eyebrow and waits silently. The handsome jerk thinks he can shock me into running. I’m not running.
“Can you help me balance?” I ask, so I don’t have to put my weight down on my ankle.
Placing his beer down on the coffee table, Grant pulls me up by my arms. I wrap one around the back of his neck while I use the other to shimmy out of my jeans that he’s already undone. I get my right leg out, but the left isn’t as easy with the brace. Finally, after removing the Airbrace, I get them all the way off. Sure, I’m embarrassed to be standing in front of a man in only my panties from the waist down. It’s incredibly intimidating. But the hungry look in Grant’s eyes as he stares at my white lace panties is so hot it makes it worth it.
Before I sit back down, Grant moves behind me, t
aking a seat on the sofa and pulling me down onto his lap, my back to his chest.
And hello!
He’s still excited from when we were making out earlier or from looking at my current state of undress. Either way, his erection is very noticeable against my ass through the thin fabric of my panties.
“Relax,” Grant says, brushing my hair over my shoulder and out of the way for his mouth to find my neck. Arms around my stomach, he tugs me back against him, positioning my legs on the outside of his thighs so that when he spreads his leg wide, mine open up, making me gasp. I also wiggle a little on his lap, seeking more contact with his dick.
“Close your eyes and relax, Sam,” Grant tells me, tugging my hair so that my head leans back against his chest, my body now plastered to his, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Are your eyes closed?” he asks, placing his damp lips to my temple. I nod in response. “Good. Keep them closed and just feel.”
Blowing out a breath, I place my hands on top of Grant’s forearms and try to relax a little more, but it’s not easy being in such a provocative position. Then, Grant’s hands move down my waist and slip under my shirt, and all I can think about is the anticipation, wondering what he’ll do next. If he’s gonna touch me…
“Keep your hands on mine and pull them away if you want me to stop,” he tells me, and I nod in understanding.
When I follow along, both of his large, cool hands go up to cup my breasts through my thin, satin bra. I suck in a gasp as he squeezes them before jerking the front of the cups down.
“You have beautiful, perky breasts,” Grant tells me, the deep vibrations of his voice resonating through my back and all through my body. “I can’t wait to taste them.”
“Mmm,” I moan at the thought of his wet mouth on my nipples, and my grip tightens on his arms.
“But today’s just about touching,” he murmurs. “Touching you where you’ve never been touched before.”
While his fingers pluck and tug on my nipples, the pleasurable pressure of liquid warmth begins building in my lower belly. It’s a throbbing ache, an insistent yearning for more…more of the sensation he’s invoking.
