OPEN YOUR HEART: Material Girls 1

by Henry, Sophia

  Our eyes lock. And there it is. What started out as physical attraction, has morphed into something completely different. My body hums, fueled by an invisible connection between us. This isn’t just sex, this is an energy exchange—thick, almost palpable—but absolutely unmistakable.

  I’ve never felt anything like it.

  Liz’s lips curve into a sexy smile, then she grabs my hand and guides me to the promised land. She’s so fucking wet, it makes me groan. “Fuck, Liz!”

  Since I have permission, I slide her underwear down her legs, until they hit her calf. She uses one foot to push them the rest of the way down and fling them off. When I slip one finger in, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her chest bumps against mine before she lets out the breath, just as slowly as she inhaled. I’ve never been with a girl that took deep breaths. Maybe it’s her way of gearing up for all the fast panting she’s about to do.

  Or not?

  She keeps up the deep breathing as I finger-fuck her into oblivion. I do say oblivion, because I have never had a girl come so fucking hard on my hand. I can usually tell when a someone is getting close by the way her breath hitches and her breathing increases. But Liz is completely different than anyone I’ve ever been with. She lifts her chest and hips on the inhale and releases on the exhale, as if her body is breathing in waves.

  “Was that good?” I ask.

  “Umm hmm,” she moans, still writhing against my hand.

  I think she’s still orgasming. I don’t know. Jesus, I feel like a fucking novice. I need to know.

  “Are you still coming?” I ask. Having to ask makes me feel like such an amateur, but this girl my judgmental friends labeled a “Becky” is surprising the fuck out of me.

  “I’m riding it out. It still feels really good.”

  “Damn,” I breathe out. Watching her roll her hips gets me harder by the second.

  I love that rather than just lying there, she goes for it. First times with someone can be awkward, but Liz doesn’t hold back and it’s hot as hell. For someone who comes across quiet and shy, she’s knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. That alone makes her a thousand times sexier than the majority of the girls I’ve been with. Liz is very aware of her body. She obviously knows what works for her and how to enhance it.

  Suddenly, she opens her eyes and grins. “That was brilliant.”

  “Was that all from breathing?” I ask, curious about her goddess ways.

  Her smile falters a bit, but doesn’t disappear completely.

  “It was amazing,” I say quickly so she knows I enjoyed it and wasn’t trying to make her feel self-conscious. “Watching you is hot as fuck.”

  “I work in medicine, so I research a lot of things.” She stops, as if contemplating what to say next. I already know she’s a surgeon, but I’m still hanging on every word.

  She continues, “I’m very aware of my body. And of other people’s bodies.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  She nods. Her shy smile slides into a sexy smirk. “I’m extremely aware of your body right now.”

  Her fingers find the zipper of my jeans easily, and within seconds my pants are on the floor. Then she climbs on top of me and grabs the hem of her dress. I take a deep death as she slides the silky fabric up her body, slowly revealing every gorgeous curve. I knew she wasn’t stick thin from holding her. It’s a complete turn-on to see a girl who’s fit and tight, yet not bony and hard. Her soft curves make my mouth water.

  She slings her dress to the floor giving me full view of perfect, round breasts, contained by a sexy, black-lace bra. I reach out and place my hand on top of her heart. It races under my palm. Her energy pulses into me with every breath.

  At first, I think she’s going to climb on and start riding my dick, but she surprises me yet again by turning around. She takes the base of my cock in one hand, leans over, and licks the entire shaft before swirling her tongue around the tip lightly.

  “Fuck,” I groan, lifting my hips off the bed when she takes me into her mouth. As she works my cock, she lifts her hips, giving me full access to her pussy.

  This reserved, professional woman wants to fucking sixty-nine.

  I think I’m in love.

  Without a second thought, I grab her hips and pull her onto my face. The rumble of her moan creates a phenomenal vibration against my dick.

  Suddenly there’s a knock on the door. Followed by someone calling out, “Austin!”

  Liz removes her warm mouth from my dick.

  “Don’t worry about it, honey.” I slap her thigh lightly to prod her on. “There’s no way I’m answering that door.”

  Another pound. Then another. More yelling. Mother-fucking fuckers. I hate my friends.

  Ignoring the knocking and yelling, I settle back into Liz’s pussy, lapping and sucking and biting. I’m so completely into her—into this—that I don’t want to think about anything else. I’m hoping she hasn’t lost the mood. But how could she not when my fucking idiot roommate is pounding on the door?

  Yet, every time I think something about Liz, she flips it around on me.

  So I can’t say I’m totally surprised when she grinds her pussy against my face and gets back to work on my dick with more enthusiasm and gusto than before. She spits into her palm, then grabs onto the base and starts twisting her hand as she takes as much of me into her mouth as she can. It feels so fucking good I could blow right now. I wouldn’t—not the first time—but damn! This woman is talented.

  When I’m sure I can’t hold off any longer, I lift her up and toss her on the bed next to me. “Fuck, baby. Hold on. You’re gonna make me come.” Then I climb on top of her and say, “I want to be looking into your beautiful eyes when I explode in your pussy.”

  Her sultry smile says everything I need. I reach into the drawer next to my bed and pull out a condom. I want to be inside this girl so badly my hands are shaking as I roll it on. Without any more waiting or foreplay, I push into her with one swift thrust. Her eyes roll back and her lids close as pure ecstasy takes over. Her head presses into the pillow, chin in the air.

  “Harder, Austin!”

  Spurred on by her command and her nails digging into my back, I pull out slowly before slamming back in. She gasps with the impact, and her pussy clenches around my cock.

  “Yes! Keep going!”

  Normally, I’m not a jackhammer-sex kind of dude, but if that’s what Liz wants, I’m going to do it. Whatever feels good for her. Her gasps turn into moans the more I thrust. Each reaction has me riding so high I’m about to come if I keep this up. Thrusting one more time, I stay deep inside, but lean down and grind my pelvis against her. Up and down, in circles, I know it feels good against her sensitive clit.

  “Oh my god! Yes! Right there. Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

  I lower my head to kiss and bite the smooth skin of her neck. Her pulse beats against my lips—the blood pumping through her system bringing me to life. “Tell me when you’re coming, baby. I’m going to explode with you.”

  “I’m—oh my god—I’m coming, Austin! Don’t stop!”

  No fucking way would I stop when I know the sensation I’m creating is making her come undone.

  “Austin! Austin! Austin!”

  Liz’s eyes flash open and that piercing gaze takes me to the next level. The sweet sound of her chanting my name, while staring into the depths of my soul, makes me come hard.

  “Fuck!”

  I’ve been on stage in front of hundreds of people staring at me, yelling and screaming their praise, but none of that compares to the high of staring into Liz’s eyes while reaching the ultimate physical and mental connection.

  What is this girl doing to me?

  I lean over and press my lips against hers before collapsing on the bed next to her, breathing hard, wondering if my breath will ever resume to a normal pace when I’m around her.

  “You okay?” she asks, reaching for my hand and intertwining her fingers with mine.

  “N
ever better, baby,” I answer. It’s an honest, yet complicated answer.

  While it’s true that I’ve never felt better than I do right now, after having the most extraordinary orgasm of my life, I’m cautious, wondering if I should jump straight into the deep end and give this girl my heart. When I fall, I fall hard.

  We lie together in silence, catching our breath amid the mild smell of sweat and sex.

  “That was intense, Austin,” Liz whispers.

  Yeah, it was.

  Pressing my eyes closed, I will myself not to speak. Because if I speak I’m either gonna say something so fucking outlandish like, “I love you” or something completely asshole like, “So you want me to take you home?”

  I don’t want to go the asshole route, because even though I know it’s based out of fear and self-sabotage, she won’t understand, and it’ll ruin any future we might be starting here.

  Still, I feel like that’s what I’m doing when I slide out of bed saying, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom. Be right back.”

  I dispose of the condom quickly and take a piss.

  I've never had to deal with these feelings before. Usually, relationships happen the “normal” way, after the getting-to-know-you part and sexual buildup. It’s never started with such a strong connection. Probably because I don’t usually have strong connections with strangers. I don’t really open up until I feel comfortable with someone.

  Except she’s not technically a stranger.

  Fuck me and fuck feelings.

  After washing my hands, I splash my face with water. It’s never going to work between Liz and me. It’s a connection I created and romanticized in my mind. Sure, that sex was intense and fucking phenomenal, but we have nothing in common. Pursuing a relationship with her would be an uphill battle I don’t have the time or energy to fight right now. Not when I’m using every ounce of strength I have for making it in the music industry. We’ve never been this close and I’m not letting a stupid crush get in the way.

  When I get back to my bedroom, Liz sits there with both feet on the floor, as if ready to make a run for it.

  “Can I use your bathroom?” she asks, glancing at me, but not meeting my eyes.

  “Absolutely. It’s at the end of the hallway.”

  “Thanks,” she says, getting up swiftly and sliding past me in the doorway.

  Fuck! Every reservation I had about pursuing her, every warning flag I raised in my head flies out the window when I see how dejected she looks—like a woman who already regrets sleeping with me.

  I already screwed up by going to the bathroom instead of talking and cuddling first. Before she shuffles out of reach, I grab her hand and draw her toward me. She raises her eyes to mine tentatively.

  “You are so fucking amazing,” I whisper before placing a soft kiss on her lips. “Hurry back.”

  The words make her eyes light up and her smile come alive again. Sometimes I’m such an awkward idiot I forget the little things—like compliments and how much I appreciate a woman sharing her body with me in the most intimate way possible.

  When Liz returns, she climbs back into bed. I immediately open my arms, inviting her to snuggle in. She rests her head on my chest and places a hand over my heart. I kiss the top of her head.

  “You gotta tell me about that orgasm, Liz.”

  “It was awesome. Amazing. Best I ever had?” The inflection at the end makes me realize that my questions sounded like I’m an egomaniac fishing for compliments.

  “Well, I know that,” I tease. “I meant how do you do it? I’ve never seen anyone slow-breathe through an orgasm. It’s always a lot of fast, hyperventilating-type breaths.”

  “Oh.” She laughs softly. The delighted vibrations send waves straight into my heart.

  “I’ve read a lot of books and articles about how I can get the most out of the time with lovers. Though, the goal of sex isn’t always to orgasm, it is a measurable representation of satisfaction. Once I learned that my orgasm is much more intense when I breathe slowly through it, I started practicing.” She pauses and I feel her tense against me. “Not with a ton of men or anything. I practice by myself and take what I learn into my experiences.”

  “Wow.” I don’t have any other words. She fucking researches sex and how to make it better. Her mind turns me on.

  “There’s so much talk about empowering women—which is absolutely brilliant—but the conversation doesn’t move into the bedroom. I was raised to be a strong, independent woman. Why would I change who I am in one of the most important parts of a relationship? But it’s not just about my own orgasm and satisfaction,” she says quickly. “I research men, too. That’s why I’m pretty good at giving head.”

  “Correction: you’re fucking phenomenal at giving head.” My mind wanders back to the way she worked my dick with enthusiasm and expertise. “How do you practice that by yourself?”

  If I’m honest—I’m slightly intimidated by how fucking smart she is while being exceptionally turned on at the same time.

  “I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m not a virgin,” she deadpans.

  I reach under her arm and tickle her gently. She laughs and shakes against me, sending her infectious vibes through me again. I love her laugh and her mind. She’s blowing me away—literally and figuratively.

  “You can practice on me whenever you want.”

  “I bet.” She nestles back into me.

  “I’m your slave, Liz. Whatever you want to do to me, go for it. I’ll return the favor ten-fold.”

  “Noted,” she says. “When did you start playing music?”

  “Geez.” I look up to the ceiling, trying to remember how old I was when Dad came home with my first guitar. “I think I was eight or nine when I started playing guitar. I messed around with piano before that, but only for fun. My parents always had instruments in the house. Neither of them played, but they really pushed creativity as an outlet for emotions. I think I wrote my first song at twelve or thirteen. A true story of betrayal and jealousy. Giving the girl I liked the soda from my lunch and having her turn around and give it to the guy she liked. The pain of heartbreak, ya know?”

  “Ouch.”

  “Right?"

  “In sixth grade, I thought I had my first boyfriend. We barely talked at school, but he always wanted to come over to my house. Nothing happened. We just watched TV or hung out. Then, one day, out of the blue, he asked if I could hook him up with Maddie. That happened a lot actually. Guys befriended me to get closer to Maddie. Personally, I don’t see how breaking one sister’s heart is a way to get on the other sister’s good side, but she’d still date the guy if she liked him enough.”

  “That’s really shitty.”

  “Yeah, but that’s the competitive nature between sisters. Not like there was ever a competition. No one picked me over her.” She says the last part in a whisper and I know that it’s still a source of pain. For someone so confident in her career and self—she’s still hurt by the juvenile shit idiot teenagers pulled.

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know your sister, obviously, but I can tell you’re completely different people. You don’t want the guys who are attracted to Maddie. Those aren’t your matches. Using you to get to her is a completely shit-bag thing to do, but be happy that you didn’t get all wrapped up in that dude only to realize later that he wasn’t the right fit in the first place.”

  Liz rests both hands on my chest and places her chin on top of them so we can look at each other as we talk. “I never looked at it that way.”

  “It’s hard to see past the pain and hurt of a situation like that. You’re way too smart and strong for those cowards anyway. You don’t want a guy who has to go through your sister to get you. You need a guy who knows what he wants and goes for it.” I reach out and run my thumb across her bottom lip. “One that lures you in with intense eye contact and asks you back to his house the same night you meet so you two can explore the obvi
ous connection.”

  “Ohhh. Maybe a musician?”

  “Absolutely. An okay-looking musician with lots of tattoos and a heart of gold.”

  She smiles. “Sounds like my kind of guy.”

  “I can hook you up with one.”

  “You know what you want and you go for it. I believe that about you. You seem very motivated. Goal-oriented.”

  “Did this turn into an interview?”

  “No.” She laughs. “I look for those qualities in people. You may not believe this, but it’s hard to be with someone like me.”

  “What does ‘someone like you’ mean?”

  “I work a lot. By the time I’m finished with my residency—” She pauses and I swear I see tears in her eyes. “These last few years have been some of the most intense I’ll ever go through in my life. Some men are intimidated by what I do. Others can’t handle the fact that I have very little free time to spend with them. They feel neglected and start resenting me. And then I second-guess my career and passion because some guy’s feelings are hurt. I guess that’s why I don’t really pursue relationships right now. I’m sick of feeling bad about myself because I’m not meeting someone else’s expectations for me.”

  Her words describe my life as a musician, trying to make it. My focus has been razor sharp recently. If it doesn’t serve me or my career, it goes on the back burner—including relationships.

  “Yeah, I completely understand. I’ve worked my ass off and been in band after band, trying to make a living out of this. Just when I think it all clicks—the people, the sound, our goals—something falls apart and I start over again. I put every drop of sweat and blood into making this my full-time career. It’s not easy. I work crazy hours. Sometimes I pick up and drive somewhere random for a weekend, to write. I need a lot of solitude. And now everything is blowing up. Two songs on the radio, millions of streams on YouTube, talking to record labels—” I stop, realizing that I sound like an insecure douchebag listing all my accomplishments like I’m trying to impress her. But I’m not; I know she understands the amount of time and work it takes to be successful. It’s something we have in common.