by Isabel Morin
It’s a relief to get back to my room and change out of my date clothes, like I’m coming off duty.
I’m watching Dancing with the Stars when Audrey gets home.
“Good, you’re awake,” she says, dropping onto my bed. “I’m dying to know how it went.”
“It was nice. We watched the windmill thing, then went back to his place and made out for a while.”
“Are you kidding me? That’s all you’ve got to say about your first date and first kiss?”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly my first kiss.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve been saying for years—”
“I kissed Casey a few days ago.”
She stares at me, her mouth falling open. “You what?”
“Um, yeah. And I know it’s bad and I’m breaking the girlfriend code. Jen would probably never speak to me again if she found out, but I was desperate.”
“I guess one kiss isn’t that big a deal if she never finds out. You know she’d freak, right?”
“I was kind of thinking it would be more than one kiss. I asked him for lessons.”
She drops her face into her hands. “Oh my God, this is insane.”
“I need to know how to do stuff, and Casey already knew my secret.”
“So now I have to lie to Jen to cover your ass?”
“It won’t be like that. She’ll never find out about it, so you don’t need to worry.”
“I don’t know.”
“Please, Audrey. I need this. I’m already so much more confident, even after one kiss. And it’s not like we’re dating. He’s just helping me out so I can have a normal life. Kind of like a sex therapist.”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying you’ll be having sex with him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I left that kind of open.” I lean forward, hugging my knees to my chest. “It sounds insane when I say it out loud, but is it really any weirder than sleeping with some guy I barely know? Your first time was terrible. So was Jen’s, and I don’t want it to be like that. I trust Casey. He’s been good to me.”
“I get it, but Jen won’t care about any of that. Anyway, how can you be sure you won’t fall for him? It’s hard not to get attached—”
“I know, I know. Casey gave me the same argument. But seriously. I would never want to get involved with him that way. He’s totally incapable of committing to anyone, and he’s got a new girl every week. He’s the last guy I’d want to be with. He’s just a means to an end.”
“Okay then, how was your date with Brian? Did your lesson pay off?”
I get up and grab my toiletry caddy and towel. “It definitely helped.”
Audrey ducks into her room for her caddy and we head down the hall. Neither of us says anything more until we’re in the bathroom.
“I wouldn’t have gone on it at all if not for, you know, practicing,” I add. “But the date was kind of a letdown.” Someone’s in one of the shower stalls so I drop my voice to a whisper. “We made out for a while in his room after the movie, and it was nice. I didn’t get as excited as I thought I would.”
“Let me guess. It was hotter with—”
“Shh,” I whisper, panicked.
“Cornelius.”
“Yes, it was hotter with Cornelius.”
We can’t talk while we’re washing our faces and brushing our teeth, but Audrey picks up where we left off as she follows me into my room.
“It’s going to be hard to find someone hotter than Casey. You know that, don’t you? Your practice guy might be spoiling you for every other human.”
It’s not like that thought hasn’t crossed my mind, but it seems like a pretty stupid reason to stop. Anyway, just because Brian left me a little cold doesn’t mean every guy I kiss will.
“So you’re not mad at me?”
“Yeah, I am mad at you. You know how I feel about this kind of thing. But I get it, and I do want you to feel normal.” She sighs. “Just promise me this will all be over in a few weeks.”
“Definitely. No one will know anything, I swear.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but at least she’s not arguing against my plan. Now the only question is, when’s my next lesson?
Chapter Eleven
Brian texts me the next day to say he had a good time and ask if I want to hang later in the week.
I had fun, too!!! I text back, overcompensating with exclamation points. How about Saturday?
I made it to the second date, or whatever you want to call it. I guess it’s a hookup, since no one calls them dates. I’m not exactly excited, but I’m glad he wants to go out again. I was half convinced I wouldn’t ever hear from him after the way I left.
I need another lesson before I see him again, which is why I end up standing at Casey’s door that evening, my nerves a hot jangle. If only we had some kind of schedule, the way people do with normal lessons. Maybe I can ask Casey about nailing down a regular time so I don’t have to go through this over and over. I’m not sure my nervous system can withstand the overstimulation.
Casey’s door is partially open and music pulses into the hallway, something good but way harder than I’d listen to. Most people in the dorms keep their doors open when they’re home, unless they don’t want to be disturbed. If the door’s open, they’re good with company.
I don’t go in, though. Instead I knock and call his name. I fall back a step when he appears in the doorway, my brain freezing at the sight of him dressed in jeans and a short-sleeve button-down. It’s been only three days since our first lesson, but the reality of Casey is more than I’d bargained for when I came up with this plan. Every time I see him, I have to get used to him all over again.
“Hey, Hannah,” he says, smiling. “Come on in.”
His bed is made, the pillows in their dark blue pillowcases looking crisp and unused.
“What’s up?”
I pull my thoughts away from him in bed with another woman.
“Not much. I finished a paper about half an hour ago. I just hope I don’t hate it when I read it again in the morning.”
“Does that happen often? You go to bed liking something and wake up hating it?”
I shrug and raise an eyebrow. I can do innuendo. “Sometimes,” I say, sitting on his bed. “I like things to be done right.”
He gives me his wicked grin. “Which is why you’re here.”
I make a face at him, but I don’t deny it.
Casey turns his desk chair toward me and sits down, his hands clasped loosely on his lap, legs outstretched. “How’d the date go?”
“The date?” I repeat stupidly. I didn’t expect questions. “Um, it was fine.”
“Just fine?” he asks, looking amused, but also keenly interested.
“It was pretty low-key.”
“Did you kiss him?”
He’s so close, all I can think about is what he and I did Sunday night.
“We made out for a while on his bed.”
His expression undergoes a subtle change, the laughter in his eyes changing to something more serious, his jaw hardening.
I seem to have become a student of Casey’s face.
“So how was it?” he asks, his voice rougher now.
Is he angry, turned on, jealous? I hesitate, unsure how much to tell him. But as usual, the plain old truth spills out of me.
“It was okay. I mean, it was nice, but it didn’t get me all worked up or anything.” I hesitate, not quite looking at him. “I think he liked it more than I did.”
“Not like it is with us,” he says, watching me.
“No.”
He slides off the chair and kneels in front of me, pushing my knees open to get closer. My skirt rides up my thighs and his hands follow it up as his hips press into me. When he kisses me, it’s not light and teasing. He’s
not trying to teach me. He’s kissing me like he needs it.
His mouth closes over mine, urging me open. His tongue strokes inside, hungry and demanding, and as hot as our first kiss was, somehow this is even better. Maybe because there’s no fear obscuring my senses. I feel everything—Casey’s warm skin and firm muscles under my hands as I slide them under the hem of his shirt, the hitch in his breath.
His desire ratchets mine up even more, and I kiss him back with everything I have, licking into his mouth, kissing his jaw and his neck. I’m going on instinct now, doing what feels good, what my driving pulse demands. There’s no space in my thoughts for wondering if I’m doing it right or where I should put my hands.
Having his incredible body pressed to mine, strung tight with excitement that I generated, makes me crazy. I feel how hard he is through his jeans, and when his hands move to my hips, pressing me to him, the connection between kissing and sex turns explicit.
This isn’t just kissing, this is foreplay. And it doesn’t feel like a lesson, it feels like the real thing.
A shard of fear pierces the pleasure. I stop kissing him and put my hands on his chest. The sound of our ragged breathing fills the room.
His hands are still on my hips, but he pulls back to look at me. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure I should be feeling so much. This is supposed to be a lesson.”
His expression turns bemused. “You mean you want it to be less hot?”
“I don’t want it to be, but maybe it should be. You know, for clarity.”
He gets up off the floor and sits on the bed next to me. “I didn’t see that coming.”
He makes an adjustment to his jeans, and I’m even more self-conscious.
“I don’t think you can control that kind of thing,” he says. “You never know what it’s going to be like until you actually kiss someone, and we click.”
“I guess I was expecting kissing you to feel good, but not so crazy that I lose all reason.”
He slides me a look. “I make you lose all reason, huh?”
“The thing is, I don’t want you to. I want to be able to ask you questions and make sure I’m doing things right. And I think it would be good if you, like, gave me instructions.”
“We can do that. Communication is the key to good sex.”
I must look panicked, because he laughs.
“I don’t mean just sex. Messing around, too. Anyway, there are different kinds of communication. When kissing is good you don’t need to have a play-by-play, but you pay attention. When I kiss you, I’m noticing how you feel and breathe, what your body is telling me.” His voice drops lower. “When you get all soft, I know you like what I’m doing, and when you sigh or gasp or moan, I know you really like it.”
I’m barely breathing, and I’m lit up again, every part of me attuned to him. All that heat sits only a few inches away, and everything in me wants to touch him again.
“You must notice things about me, right?” he asks.
I nod, swallowing before I can speak. “I can tell you’re excited by how you breathe,” I say, thinking back to how it is when we’re kissing. “By the tension in your body. And…” I can’t help it. I look down at the bulge in his pants.
He gives a low laugh, one that sounds frayed at the edges. “Yeah, that’s a dead giveaway. Guys aren’t too subtle.”
They may not be subtle, but they’re still a mystery to me.
“Want to kiss some more, Hannah?” he asks, his voice an irresistible temptation.
I nod, already leaning toward him. My eyes close as our lips meet, the kiss soft and exploratory, almost like our first, but with a darker flavor. There’s a new craving behind it, and I feel myself tremble with a need that’s only grown since I walked through the door. I no longer want to kiss just anyone for the sake of it.
Casey’s the one I want to taste. I want his hands on my skin, his voice in my ear.
Getting up on my knees so I’m facing him, I wrap my arms around his neck and slant my lips over his. It’s so natural I don’t even have to think about what to do. I kiss him the way I want to, drinking him in. I rub my cheek against his jaw and savor the rough friction against my skin. On my knees I’m slightly taller than he is sitting, and I use the advantage to kiss him deep and long.
Without warning Casey slides farther back onto the bed and lies down, pulling me over him. “Like this,” he says, his big hands sliding around my thighs, pulling them apart so I’m straddling him, my skirt pushed up around my hips.
I gasp at the feel of him hard against me and instinctively move into him. There’s nothing between us but my underwear—which is already soaked through—and his jeans. The feeling is so good I have to stifle a moan. So good I stop, afraid of going too far. I’ve thought about kissing and having sex, but I never anticipated the other ways bodies could connect.
Casey lifts his hips into me, urging me on. “That’s it, babe. Do what feels good.”
“Casey, I don’t know—”
“I won’t try anything, I promise.”
“Okay.”
“You want to stop?”
“Not yet. It feels too amazing.”
“Yeah, it does.” He smiles, but his gaze is hot and hungry on me.
“Is it okay if I touch you?” I ask.
He nods and swallows hard, the motion drawing my gaze to the skin at his throat. I lean forward and kiss him there, then start unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes never leave my face. His entire body has gone still, like he’s holding himself back.
I finish the last button and push the sides away. I’ve seen his chest before, but this is a whole different experience. He’s mine to touch, and I hardly know where to start. My mouth goes dry looking at him, and new heat sweeps over me. He’s so beautiful, his muscles smooth and firm and rippling slightly as I touch him.
I run my hands over the ridges in his stomach, then up to his chest, where I graze over his nipples and the light golden hair that curls there.
“Do guys like this?” I ask.
His cheeks are flushed, his eyelids heavy. “I do.”
All my shyness seems to have disappeared, replaced by avid curiosity and the need to please him. I roll his nipple with my thumb, and his head tips back on a moan as he thrusts against me. It gives me a crazy rush, his desire boomeranging back to make me even hotter.
“Should I use my mouth?” I ask.
He laughs low and dirty, and his hands tangle in my hair. “The answer to that question is always yes.”
I brace my hands on either side of his chest and lick him. His reaction gets me so hot I roll my hips into him, experimenting. “Is that good?” I ask, my voice husky and out of breath.
“God, yes.” He pulls me closer and kisses me deep and hard, one hand slipping under the edge of my shirt. “What is it you want, Hannah?” His voice is a rumble in my ear. More a feeling than a sound. “Tell me.”
I’m afraid to say it out loud. Afraid to make my need too real, exposing me. But I’m desperate for whatever comes next.
“I don’t know exactly, but I want more.”
Casey’s eyes darken, and a muscle works in his jaw.
“But I don’t know how much more,” I add. I need to be clear, but at the same time I don’t know exactly what I mean. “I don’t want you to think I’m a tease—”
Casey takes my face in his hands and looks me in the eye. “This is supposed to feel good. As soon as it doesn’t, or as soon as you’re not sure, tell me and I’ll stop. Trust me, I’ll be psyched about whatever we do.”
I smile, relieved. Casey grabs my hips and rocks into me, and I’m back in the stratosphere, all rational thought evaporating like rain on scorched earth.
His hands roam all over me, but he doesn’t go anywhere near my breasts. Probably because of how I flinched when he touched me last time
.
“Let’s try second base again,” I say.
As soon as it comes out, I realize how childish it sounds, but Casey doesn’t seem to care.
“Fuck yes, that would be amazing.”
He says it with such gratitude, I’m smiling when he kisses me again.
I expect him to more or less grab my breast, but Casey has more finesse than that. His warm hand skims me from my hip to just below my breast, leaving behind a trail of heat.
“I’m going to unhook your bra, okay?”
In answer, I twist my arms behind my back and unhook it myself. I consider yanking off my top, but some residual modesty stops me. I settle for pulling the bra straps through the armholes of my shirt and sliding it off. I follow Casey’s dark gaze to where the thin cotton shirt outlines my breasts and my pebbled nipples.
“Hannah, you are so sexy.”
He pushes my shirt up and cups my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples, and it’s almost too much to take. Every nerve ending turns on, until the slightest caress floods me with sensation.
“Does that feel good?” he asks, sounding as drugged as I feel.
“You know it does.” It comes out like I’m accusing him, and in a way, I think I am. He’s too good at this, and I don’t even know how my own body will react. I lean closer to him. “Don’t stop.”
The next second I’m on my back and Casey’s above me, looking at me like he’s going to tear off every last piece of my clothing. He pushes my shirt up and bends forward, taking my nipple in his mouth. I arc upward like someone plugged me into a socket, wiring me with a current that surges through every cell.
“Oh my God, Casey…”
He looks up. “It’s okay. Let me make you feel good.”
I dig my fingers into his soft golden hair and give myself up to him, everything in me focused on his mouth. He sucks some more, then rolls my nipple around as if to test what I like. His other hand teases the other breast, and then he switches until I’m practically levitating off the bed.
He’s so big over me, so sure of himself. I clutch at his shoulders and press up into him, loving the rasp of his tongue against me. He groans and says my name, leaving my breast to kiss my throat and take my mouth again. His kiss this time is hot and wild, his careful seduction replaced with a rough desire. Everything in me responds to it, and I meet his kiss with my own demands, sliding my tongue into his mouth, my hands slipping into his hair to hold him against me.
