by Leanne Davis
His favorite warning was: they didn’t know what in the hell might be lurking outside in the pitch of night. They were all too naive and sweet and sheltered. None of them had a clue about what he was referring to. He was nearly insulting in his constant worry and fatherly bitch-outs, especially when he disapproved of how they behaved or carried themselves. But he seemed so genuine that none of them ever argued with him.
He was mostly protective of Olivia. She sometimes felt claustrophobic at being warned, yet again, how careful she needed to be. He insinuated that the hour-long drive to Calliston on the freeway was something she couldn’t handle. She’d driven it at least once a month for the last year when she spent entire weekends with Kylie and Ally, who were then roommates.
He may be totally out of control with his worry, but there were times when she noticed a strange fear in his eyes. His protective instinct seemed out of proportion with the carefree college life they were trying to lead. But then again, her father hadn’t been murdered by a violent juvenile delinquent, had he? She’d known tragedy in her life, but never violence. She saw the distrust and fear in his expressions sometimes, and wondered how profoundly the violence of his childhood affected him.
But he rarely said much about his past. Or, for that matter, his life away from her. If she hadn’t been so convinced of his feelings about her, she might have been clingy and insecure. But Derek was so into her that she sometimes wanted to tell him she wasn’t nearly as perfect as he portrayed her to be. In fact, her virginity was something she might have been ready to start letting go of, although it seemed expected of her. His pure, sweet, little Olivia. She could wear that halo for now, but there were signals it could not last. A pedestal was fun to perch on, but not anything real or enduring.
She convinced him every so often that they should go to his apartment together if only to be alone. He didn’t seem to get her motives, or what she was trying to do when she suggested they go there. Be alone, so they could finally do more.
He got kind of weird when they were at his house, to be honest. He seemed much more at ease when they were at her dorm, and in her world, even with the constant intrusions of her cousins and the other girls from the dorm. He walked straight into her room as if it were his God-given right. At his place, however, he seemed twitchy and unable to relax with her. He became more guarded and formal, which he never was at her dorm. He smiled more often there and lounged around, appearing downright lazy at times, but always affectionate.
His apartment brought out a different Derek: quieter, more subdued, and extremely paranoid. The very next time she went there, he had sheets and a blanket on his mattress. He shrugged and ducked his head at her pleased response as well as mild surprise. He’d obviously done it for her.
It was many weeks into dating when after spending the afternoon at her college’s football game and hanging out with a group from the dorm afterwards, they left the rest of their group to come to his apartment; and now, finally, she was alone with him.
Once inside, he took her hand and sat near her. Where had his confidence gone? Why didn’t he ever try anything with her? She didn’t really know.
She leaned towards him and their lips met. His hands combed through her hair as he held her head just below her ears, and cradled it. He was so gentle and soft, when their lips separated, she kept her eyes shut and sighed with heartfelt, simple happiness. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up and off her. Having worn no bra today, she threw her camisole off with her shirt. As always, his gaze darkened as it narrowed onto her small breasts. They could have been a source of embarrassment to her, but judging by the way he always seemed so entranced, that was not an option. His reaction to her naked chest made that impossible to feel. His hands drifted to her shoulders and his mouth trailed kisses down to her breasts. She clutched his head to her chest and ran her fingers around his head. He wore a beanie and she took it off before running her hands into his hair. The pleasure she received was evidenced by the small moans that escaped her lips. He stopped only to lift his head up and look into her eyes. He kissed her lips and was very intense about it. He rarely smiled. Or said pretty words to her. He just looked at her as if he could have devoured her. It was heady stuff for a girl known to most as a tomboy for much of her life. Derek never seemed to care what she wore, and always touched and caressed her as if she were wearing the most beautiful gown imaginable.
She felt warm and wet as he kissed her and his hands drifted over her nipples, driving her crazy. She tugged at his shirt and helped him slip out of it. His jeans rode low on his lean hips and her hands dropped to his waist. He inhaled his breath sharply and his nostrils flared as her hands started working on his belt. He didn’t stop her, nor try to help her. He seemed poised while holding his breath, but afraid to move.
She shifted and stood up so she could wriggle out of her own jeans. His gaze was riveted on her underwear. He wanted to memorize every line of her body, starting from her narrow shoulders, to her barely-there breasts, to her concave stomach, to her narrow hips that poked out and her legs that were stick-like. He grabbed her by her waist and his fingers dug deeply into her skin. He instantly released his grip, as if he only then realized how hard he was pressing on her. His breathing increased as he slid his hands lower and caught the sides of her panties. He pulled them down so she could step out of them. She leaned over and ditched her socks too. His hands ran back up her legs, but his gaze didn’t leave her middle. She saw his throat visibly gulp and the sense of power and sureness that filled her then managed to convince her that what she was prepared to do was right. This was the right time and she wanted to do it. Whatever, and however far “it” turned out to be made no difference anymore.
His hands grazed over her hips and the front of her. His fingers gently threaded through the soft curls of pubic hair and warm, wet folds of skin. His breathing escalated as he grabbed her waist again and pulled her so she straddled him. He even moaned as she made contact with him. Leaning back, with his hands pushed into her hair, he let her kiss him while his tongue explored her entire mouth. He finally flipped their bodies over and his was on top of hers. First his gaze traveled down her body, followed by his warm lips. He rubbed her nipples and his mouth hesitated at her belly button. She became more aroused and wet while everything south of her belly button seemed to expand.
He paused and rested his face on her stomach and just lay there. She didn’t know how to voice what she wanted him to do, which was to touch her, and kiss her, and maybe even have sex with her. But she had no clue how to tell him that. Finally, she wiggled her hips and butt and kind of opened her legs, hoping he’d get the hint. He lifted his face up so suddenly, he could have pinned her to the mattress with the astonished look on her face. She withdrew, but their gazes stayed fixed on each other.
“Be clear, Olivia. Are you sure?”
“I’m very sure,” she said, her tone half its usual volume.
“What do you want me to do?”
Oh, dear God! What did he want her to do? Did she have to spell it out? Or give him a guided tour? What the hell did she know?
“Whatever you usually do with a naked girl in bed.”
His eyes shut and he grimaced as if her words caused him physical pain. “No, you don’t. What I usually do isn’t—”
“Isn’t what? How you want to treat me? I have the same parts they have. I want to feel good too. I mean, I think I do. So why can’t you?”
He stared down at her and she kept her legs half open. She had to grit her teeth to avoid flinching or shying away. She had nothing to be embarrassed about. She was finally getting comfortable with Derek and anxious to explore her sexuality. She deserved to enjoy it as much as he did, didn’t she?
“It isn’t usually because of any real feelings,” he finally whispered. He was staring now not at her, but kind of past her. Her heart fractured before it lifted and shifted inside her.
She sat up and pulled him toward her as she started kissing him mor
e fervently. He froze as if in shock, but then his mouth engaged hers, and just as swiftly and hot. She pulled back and whispered, “Do you think we’re in love with each other?”
He shuddered and seemed initially repulsed by the idea. But she wasn’t sure that’s what he meant. He always seemed so affected by her words. No, terrified. “I think…” He acted like he had to breathe crazily and deep. “I think,” he ran his hands into his hair and held them behind his neck. “Fuck, I don’t know what love feels like. I just know this: no word in the dictionary could describe the feelings I have for you.”
She nodded and he finally had the guts to raise his eyes to hers. Her breath caught and almost suffocated her. What Derek said was so simple, yet so profound. It was like nothing she ever pictured anyone saying to or feeling for her. However, it described what she felt about him in every detail.
“I think that would pretty much be what love is, Derek,” she finally said, still holding his gaze.
He swallowed before replying, “Then, I guess… yeah.”
They looked at each other, and the awkwardness, and newness of their mutual feelings made each of them blush and quickly turn away. When a small, tiny smile curled up Olivia’s lips, she saw that one had also appeared on his face. “I love you, Derek. I think I did from the first time you kissed me.”
“Can I kiss you now?”
“Depends on where.”
“Your lips, you little nympho. I’m not declaring love right before having sex with you! It’s too… weird. Like I said it just to get that from you.”
“Maybe I’m saying it to get it from you. You were the one who hesitated.” She countered his smile, and her flirting and newfound confidence were intoxicating to him. If he loved her, things would be raised to an entirely new level. A high level. A maybe she wanted to have sex level.
He groaned and shut his eyes. “You can’t encourage me. I’m really not that noble.”
“Quit being noble then. Please.”
He laid her back down, his gaze fixed on hers the entire time. Leaning back towards her hips, he took her legs in his hands and spread them a little wider, appearing still bold and taunting before he dropped his eyes on her. He stared intently and she squirmed under the scrutiny. Raising his head, he grinned and asked, “Can I kiss you now?”
She shut her eyes and nodded before his face disappeared between her thighs. The scruff of his unshaven chin and cheeks scraped her inner thighs. He touched his lips on her and then his tongue and she forgot her shyness. Dropping her knees even wider, her moan of pleasure nearly surprised her when it came from her lips. She opened her eyes long enough to see his dark head sandwiched between her legs. Closing her eyes tightly, she waited while his mouth made her explode with new sensations.
He kissed her, tongued her, and touched her until she came. Crying out, she clutched his bed covers between her fisting fingers. He kissed his way back up her body until he arrived at her lips. She could taste herself on him and opened her eyes instantly. He grinned wickedly and seemed to realize what shocked her.
Pulling her into his arms, he rubbed her back and shoulders and kissed her face and neck. She was almost asleep, lying naked beside him when he leaned down and whispered, “I love you too.”
She would soon learn that was the only time he could say it to her: in the dark of night, lying in his arms. Only then could he whisper it, and always when she was almost asleep. Never while looking her in the eye, or flippantly texting, or ending a phone call with “love you,” as if it were a casual goodbye. To Derek, it was always a profound, quiet, solemn vow he wanted to share with only her.
Chapter Nine
DEREK WOKE UP TO an empty bed. He glanced down from the loft towards the kitchen to find Olivia, in his t-shirt, eating a donut. She stood next to the counter, munching while staring at the screen of her phone. When she bent over to lean on the counter, he was treated to the shocking revelation that she still wore no underwear.
He rolled flat onto his back. Love. How could he have told her he was in love with her? So what if he might be? If there was such a thing as love, and if that described what he felt towards her, then maybe, yeah, sure, he was in love with her. But how could he simply tell her that? Everything about him was wrong for her and would end up devastating her. And to do that? To go so far as to claim he loved her just so he finally got his mouth and hands on her, as he’d been angling to do all along? So not what he meant to do. For once in his lousy, ridiculous life, he wanted to do something decent. Or at least, kind of decent; but no, he couldn’t even stick to that. He’d kept his hands above her waist for weeks. And never even asked for more, as the longer he knew her, the more he realized what a gift she was. Anyone would have known that. Her smiles were always fresh and real and heartfelt. She was happy. Being around her was like hearing music for the first time, or spotting a rainbow after days of rain. She was that engaging, charming, sweet, funny and decent. The most decent person he’d ever known in his life.
And he would, no doubt, ruin even that, now wouldn’t he?
She was coming up the stairs and not being particularly quiet. She never was. She stomped and thumped the moment she got up and began moving. She could no more sneak up on someone than a young colt could. She came to the top of the landing and smiled when she realized he was awake. Her smile was sweet and goofy as she came over and sat on her knees near his head. Her legs were tucked under her like a kid might do. The t-shirt covered all the interesting parts. She was still working on the donut. She ate atrociously. Sweets, donuts, cookies and candy. How they hell she stayed so skinny was a testament to one of the miracles of having a good gene pool. She might have had worse eating habits than even he. She leaned down and kissed his lips, and the sugar on her lips was sweet and sticky. He poked his tongue out to lick it off her lips. She started to pull back, but groaned as his tongue touched hers and leaned in closer for more. His hands slid to her bare legs and bottom. She leaned her weight into his hands.
He finally pushed her back. “We should stop.”
She glanced down at the covers, and her eyebrows rose curiously. “Does it really happen every morning?”
He almost choked on his own spit at her question. She didn’t often acknowledge it. “With you here? Yes.”
She bit her lip. “Is it uncomfortable?”
“It’s… needy.”
“Can I… touch you?”
He groaned at her soft, sweet voice and turned on his side, away from her. “I think we went far enough for one time.”
Her hands slid around his shoulders. “Are you going to keep this up?”
“Keep what up?”
“Acting like I’m some kind of fragile package you’re afraid to ruin. I’m not ruined just because I have sex with you. This isn’t the eighteenth century. I’m allowed to be curious and eager to have it just as much as you are.”
He paused only when her lips caught his in a kiss that further inflamed the subject of their discussion. One of her hands slid to his waist and he eventually lay flat. She slid the sheets off as she worked his jeans open. He closed his eyes, slightly ashamed, but also unable to tell her no. He nearly jumped when her cool hands touched his bare skin as she slipped beneath the elastic of his boxers. He kissed her mouth harder as she kept kissing him while her hands drifted lower, until they were right over his erection. He held her jaw in his hands, trying to resist the urge to reach down and show her exactly what he wanted her to do. She lay her hand over him, and left it just kind of sitting there. The anticipation of her barely-there pressure nearly killed him. She slipped a hand into the opening of his shorts, and he groaned into her mouth when she made a fist around the shaft. He hadn’t been touched there by anything but his own hand in months. He jerked off to fantasies of her doing just this, so he knew it wouldn’t take much.
Finally free of clothes, he watched her hand slide up and down his length. He had to grit his back teeth to not simply come right there in her hand. Her face suddenly was unav
ailable for him to kiss as she headed south. He fell back onto his pillow, and his eyes slammed shut. His jaw was growing sore from his efforts to keep himself from coming all over her. But her lips, fuck! were on his stomach, then right above his dick, and then, right on it. He aimed his hips towards the heat of her mouth as soon as she barely put the tip of him inside it. He longed to hold her head still and push as far inside as he could. He ached to encourage her to move her mouth up and down. But she didn’t seem to know exactly what to do. Her lips slid off him and he was pretty sure she was looking at him intently. He dared not look at her, lest he lose it. Her hair swept over his stomach as she lowered her lips on him again and this time, her tongue touched the end of him. She did it exactly how he’d often seen her lick an ice cream cone. Kind of slow and soft. Lapping at him like a cat drinks a saucer of milk, one hand went back along him and her other hand rested flat on his stomach.
It was not like any blow job he’d ever gotten. She didn’t totally move or devour him like some girls tried to do. But having Olivia’s mouth on him, there was nothing special she needed to do to make him come. He finally opened his eyes and what he saw made his head flop back onto the mattress with a loud groan of appreciation. She was huddled up next to his hips, on her knees, with her dark hair spread all over his dark skin. Her head moved and tilted over him. He grabbed her shoulders and dragged her towards him before rolling to the side and coming into the covers instead of her mouth. He kissed her without thinking as the aftershocks rumbling through him kept his eyes shut and his body strumming.
Pushing her away from the wet spot on his bed, he was afraid to actually make eye contact with her. What if she got grossed out or shocked by it? What if… well, hell! He didn’t know what a virgin might think of anything. That’s why he treated her like a fragile package he dared not touch. He was afraid to shock her, hurt her, or lose her.
