Little Things

by Donya Lynne

  And here I thought he would make love to me tonight. Fat chance of that happening now.

  My phone vibrates on my nightstand as I set down the TV remote.

  When I pick it up, heat blasts through me. It’s Gunner.

  Where’d you go? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.

  I ignore his question and ask one of my own.

  Why are you looking for me?

  Less than a minute later, he replies.

  I found a room upstairs where we can sneak away to be alone for a little while.

  Really? He’s got some balls.

  You mean the room I saw you coming out of with Simone?

  I wait so long for him to reply that I begin to think he’s not going to.

  Where are you?

  He’s not even going to try to explain what I saw. I’m not sure if I respect him for not trying to lie about what happened by telling me it wasn’t what I thought, or if I’m more hurt that he didn’t at least apologize.

  I’m at home.

  Nothing. For ten minutes, I get no reply. Fifteen. Twenty. Simone must have gotten her hands back on him.

  I abandon any hope that he’s going to text me back and try to focus on the movie, but it’s hopeless. I’m too hurt to focus on anything other than replaying the nights I’ve shared with him, and then how I saw him leaving that bedroom with Simone.

  And . . . I’m crying again.

  I thought I had finally found something special with Gunner. Not only have I never had sex, but I’ve never even had a boyfriend. All these years, everything has been about Gunner. My heart, my soul, my entire life has belonged to him even though he never knew it. And just when I thought he felt the same way, I’m slapped with the reality that I’ve been nothing but a pastime.

  I have no idea how, but eventually I fall asleep.

  When I awaken, it’s still dark outside, my TV is still on, and I’m clutching my other pillow like it’s Gunner’s body.

  Just as I begin to tighten my hold on the pillow and burrow more deeply into its plush softness, I freeze. Someone is sitting on my bed. I can tell by the way the mattress dips behind me.

  My eyes flash open, and I hold my breath. That’s when I feel the hand resting on my hip.

  I don’t need to roll over to see who’s with me.

  The silence stretches between us as if he’s waiting for me to roll over.

  When I don’t, he says, “It took me longer than I thought it would to find a ride back here.”

  How long has he been sitting on my bed waiting for me to wake up?

  “Why are you here?” I hadn’t thought he would come to me tonight. I’m both excited and confused as to why he has.

  His palm slides higher on my hip, and he gives it a gentle tug, trying to persuade me to face him. “Cami, look at me.”

  My eyes feel like I’ve sprayed them with hairspray. They’re gritty and irritated. I don’t want him to see I’ve been crying, so I tuck myself more securely against my pillow, resisting the temptation to look at him.

  “Come on, Cami, look at me.”

  “You were with her, weren’t you?” The backs of my eyes sting, but I fight back the tears.

  “Who? Simone?” He sounds truly confused. “No. No, Cameron, I wasn’t with her. I haven’t been with her in a long time.” Now he sounds frustrated.

  “But I saw you,” I say accusingly. “You were coming out of that bedroom with her.”

  I sound like a jealous girlfriend, but I don’t care. I know we aren’t a couple, and I know he can see, kiss, and screw whoever he wants, but I think he should have made that clear before he went off and did it. He owed me that much.

  His hand is still on my hip, and my body betrays me by liking how it feels.

  “Nothing happened,” he says.

  Why is he lying? Does he think he’s protecting my feelings? I’ve got news for him, it’s too late for that. My feelings have already been trampled.

  “I know Simone’s your ex-girlfriend, Gunner. If you want to get back together with her, that’s fine. I get it. She’s gorgeous, and I’m—”

  He whips me to my back, abruptly stealing my words as he bends forward and kisses me. “Beautiful,” he says, his gaze piercing mine. “You’re absolutely, incredibly beautiful. The only reason I ever went out with Simone in the first place was because your brother would have kicked my ass if I had tried to go out with you.”

  His midnight-ocean-blue eyes swim in my vision. “What?” My voice sounds so small.

  The corners of his mouth tip upward. “Do I finally have your attention?”

  “Yes.” I still sound like a mouse, skittish and frail.

  “Good, because I’m only going to say this one more time.” He drops a light, lingering kiss on my lips. “Nothing.” He kisses me again. “Happened.” Another kiss. “Tonight.” One more kiss. “There is nothing going on between me and Simone. I broke up with her two years ago.” His lips brush over mine yet again. “I never should have gone out with her in the first place, because my heart only wanted you.” I’m starting to like these kisses. “I’ve always liked you.” Kiss. “When you were younger, I thought you were cute.” My body is warming. “I had such a huge crush on you.” His body seems to be warming, too. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I spent so much time here?”

  This time, he doesn’t kiss me. He holds himself up on his elbows, watching me, waiting for an answer.

  What was his question? Oh, yeah. Why he spent so much time here when we were kids.

  “I just assumed you were here for Nick.”

  “Well, yeah. We were friends. But I always wanted us to come over here instead of going to my house because you were here.” He brushes back my hair.

  What is he saying? That he’s liked me as long as I’ve liked him?

  “So . . . Simone . . .?” I search his face.

  “One of those two silly girls who followed me around all night spilled a glass of punch on the back of her blouse, and I went with her to help clean out the stain.”

  I suddenly feel about as silly as a clown at a funeral.

  “I swear, Cami, that’s all there was to it. I talked about you the whole time I was with her.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes.” He grins and lets out a breathy snort. “I talked about you so much she probably started to wonder if I’ve done anything but think about you for the past year.”

  My heart starts beating faster. “What did you tell her?”

  “How funny you are. How sweet. And smart. And talented. How I hope you go to Ohio State next year so we can be together.” He halts, searching my face. “How I’m in love with you.”

  A second ago, my heart was racing. Now it feels like it’s totally stopped. Either that or it’s beating so fast it just feels like it’s stopped. “You’re in love with me?”

  His dark eyes glisten from the light coming off the TV. “Cameron, I think I’ve loved you since I met you. It just took me awhile to figure it out.”

  Oh my God. I got everything all wrong tonight. He wasn’t messing around with Simone. Gunner loves me. Me! I misjudged the situation, him, me, us . . . all of it.

  Words can’t express how I feel. Frenzied elation rockets through me, as does feverish anticipation.

  I don’t want this moment to slip by, not when I’ve waited so long for it.

  Slapping my palm around the back of his neck, I bring his face to mine and fuse my lips to his in a gut-twisting kiss. One full of our tongues dancing together, blistering heat, and determination. When I break away, my gaze locks to his. “Make love to me.”

  He searches my face as if looking for doubt. When he finds none, his jaw clenches with resolve, and he pushes off the bed.

  “I’ll be right back.” He darts to his room.

  While he’s gone, I take off my clothes. Tossing them to the floor, I demurely pull the sheet over my body and hold it to my chest. I may be ready to have sex with Gunner, but I can’t dismiss my shyness around him quite
so easily.

  He’s back within seconds and tosses a pair of square plastic packages on my nightstand. Condoms.

  This is really happening. I’m going to lose my virginity tonight, and I’m giving it to the only man I ever want to be with. I don’t care how many girls he’s slept with. It’s not important, anymore. The only thing that’s important is that he loves me, and I want to celebrate that revelation giving my body to his.

  Standing beside the bed, he takes off his shirt and jeans, adding them to my clothes on the floor, but he leaves on his underwear. Even so, I can see his excitement jutting from between his legs, straining the fabric of his briefs.

  “You’re sure about this?” he asks as he climbs into bed with me, pushing back the sheet to kneel between my legs.

  I’m bared to him, stripped not just of my clothes but of all pretense.

  “Yes.”

  I’m nervous, eager, and scared all at once. I’ve heard it hurts the first time, but I refuse to chicken out. I want this. Nothing is going to stop me from taking this moment all the way.

  “I’ll be gentle,” he reassures me, stroking his fingers up and down my legs.

  All I can do is nod and gulp air past the cotton in my mouth.

  “Just relax.” His soft, deep voice lulls me as his palms glide high on the inside of my thighs.

  My skin sizzles, and it feels like the bottom just fell out of my stomach as the tips of his fingers come within inches of the heart of me. So close, but so far away as his hands retreat toward my knees.

  “Aren’t you going to take off your underwear?” I ask, reaching for the elastic band that reads “DIESEL” around his waist.

  He takes my hand and presses it against the mattress. “Not yet. Not until you’re ready.”

  “But I am ready.” I try to reach for his shorts again, but he holds down my arms, bending forward so his face is directly above mine.

  “Your mind is ready,” he says, “but I want your body ready, Cameron. You’re a virgin. This won’t be any fun for either of us if your body isn’t ready for me first. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Oh. I never thought about that. “How do I get my body ready then?”

  He grins, and I swear he looks like the devil. A very sexy devil. He slowly lowers his face until his lips touch mine. “Getting you ready is my job.”

  Warmth blossoms inside my stomach and creeps outward, spreading through my arms and legs.

  “How will you know when my body is ready?” I’ve taken sexual education and read enough books to know the answer to my question. I just want to hear his answer.

  He chuckles and slides his mouth down the center of my stomach, sending shock waves through my muscles. I quiver as his mouth brushes against my sex before he rises onto his knees again.

  “I’ll know because you’ll be good and wet. Right here.” His fingers slide between my labia, and I suck in my breath. “Mmm, you’re already wet.”

  I smile at the way his eyes twinkle in the darkness. “So does that mean I’m ready?”

  “Not yet.” His fingers traipse down my thighs, tickling my skin and making desire flame through my soul. “Now I need to make you beg for it.”

  I let out a frustrated groan. “Pleeeeaaasse.”

  He releases another dark chuckle as he shakes his head and glides his palms up my thighs again. “Not that kind of begging. Now . . . sssshhhh. Let me do this the way I always imagined I would.”

  The way he always imagined? Is it possible he’s fantasized about this moment as long as I have?

  I’m hot inside, slick between my legs, and tingling all over, poised at the tip of the needle. Aroused isn’t even the word for how I feel. I don’t know how much readier I can be, but this is Gunner’s game. If he wants to do this his way, I’ll let him. I trust him, and he seems to know what he’s doing, while I have no idea.

  He stops and leans over me, grabbing the TV remote from the nightstand. He studies it for a moment then aims it over his head. The TV clicks off, casting my bedroom into total darkness.

  “How about some music?” He rolls off the bed and retrieves his jeans from the floor. He fishes his phone out of his pocket.

  “Sure.”

  He brings up his playlist. A few seconds later, “Little Things” by One Direction begins playing.

  I love this song. It’s on my own playlist, and every time I hear it, I think of Gunner.

  He folds his hand around mine as Zayn Malik sings about hands fitting together as if it’s meant to be. Mirroring the lyrics, Gunner slides his fingers around mine.

  I stare at our joined hands.

  His fingers are strong and firm. They’re long and thick next to mine, which are short and slender. He has man hands.

  That’s when it hits me. I mean, it really hits me. He’s not a boy anymore. I’m not a girl. We were when we met, but between then and now, we’ve grown up. We’re a man and a woman, and we’re about to take a step in our relationship there will be no coming back from. Once we do this, everything will be different. What we’ve done every night before tonight has been nothing compared to what we’re about to do.

  Letting go of my hand, he eases his way onto my body as One Direction continues singing about the little things, and I pull him to me.

  “I want this with you,” I whisper just as he’s about to kiss me.

  “I want this with you, too,” he whispers back.

  And then his mouth is on mine. Our lips twist together, fusing, tugging, devouring. His tongue sweeps over mine, and a moan breaks from his chest as I slide my hand down his bare back, dipping my fingers inside the waist of his undershorts.

  He brushes his fingers over my face, my neck, my arms. Then he grips my hands and presses them against the mattress on either side of my shoulders as he releases my mouth and kisses his way to my breast.

  When he lets go of my hands to caress my slight curves, I grip the back of his head, digging my fingers into all that soft, thick hair, holding his mouth to my breast. The breath gasps out of me as his teeth scrape my nipple.

  I’m rising, spinning, tightening everywhere. Heat blasts through me, pulsing like a beacon between my legs as he rolls his hips.

  Rocking against him, sparks fire inside my core, and I draw in my breath, hoping he touches me there. He doesn’t disappoint. His fingers slide down, finding me. He groans, parting my slick folds before swirling the tip of his middle finger around my clit.

  I don’t know how much readier I need to be, because I feel like I’m about to blast off.

  He raises up and shifts side to side, and then I feel his bare hardness on me as he lowers himself again. He’s shoved down his undershorts, freeing his erection.

  I open my eyes to find him staring down at me. He’s watching me, drinking in my reaction.

  Wanting him to know I’m more than ready to feel him, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and encircle his hips with my legs. I rock against him and drag my core up his shaft to the very tip, where I stop and hold myself as if daring him to take the next step.

  His forehead is damp. Tiny beads of perspiration have formed on his naturally tan skin. His heavy breaths meet mine, and we’re both poised right on the edge where love and desire meet.

  The head of his cock glides lower, and I hold my breath. He’s right there. If he pushes forward, he’ll be inside me. He makes a noise deep inside throat, and I know he wants to keep going. That he feels the coiled energy between us the same as I do.

  “Jesus,” he murmurs, pulling away and thrusting his hand toward the top of the nightstand, retrieving one of the condoms.

  He kicks off his undershorts then tears open the packet. I’ve never seen a condom before, and I stare as he hurriedly rolls it on.

  Giving it a tug at the tip, he comes down on top of me again, his mouth crashing against mine as a moan rumbles out of his throat. I rock my hips against him, needing more. My body seems to have taken over my mind. Everything is centered around what’s happening between my leg
s. The heat. The swollen need. The greedy desire to pull him inside me and feel what I’ve only read about in books.

  “Now . . . please . . .” I’m more than ready. I know I am.

  His hand shoots between us, and he lifts his hips. Then I feel the sheathed head of his cock stroke me up and down. I gasp as fiery explosions detonate throughout my body.

  He’s inside me. Just a little. Just the tip.

  I clutch his back, pulling, moaning, squirming for more.

  He eases forward, and I feel a pinch. I tense and inhale abruptly as I utter a quiet but alarmed squeak. He stops, giving me a moment.

  “Are you okay?” Concern fills his eyes.

  I nod. I feel so full, and he’s not even all the way in. Licking my lips, I pant through the fading pain and meet his eyes. “I’m fine. Don’t stop.”

  This is it. I’m letting go of the last piece of my innocence. Only one man can possess my virginity, and I’ve always wanted that man to be Gunner. My fantasy is finally coming true.

  “Relax,” he says, smoothing his fingers over my face. “Keep breathing and relax.”

  I try to do what he says, but I’m too excited to relax. I just want him inside me. All the way inside. I want to feel his body meet mine.

  Tiny whimpers ride the staccato exhales pushing out of me.

  “Ssshhh . . .” He kisses me, sweeping his tongue past my lips, causing the most incredible feeling to surge through my inner muscles, which are stretched around him.

  I’m flooded with warmth, and I moan into his mouth.

  “That’s it,” he says, coaxing me, pushing deeper. “God, you’re so tight.”

  There’s discomfort but not pain. Just this unusual stretching that I’m not accustomed to. Nothing as big as what he’s giving me has ever been inside me. As far as I’m concerned, Gunner has the biggest cock in the world.