“Oh my God,” I say again.
She lets out a light laugh as she gently sets me down, my dick now resting on my belly, and crawls up the length of my body to fit herself against my side. “I told you I wanted to make you feel good.”
“Good is not even close to the right word.”
“Glad you liked it.” She turns her face into my shoulder, like she’s hiding her smile even though we’re in the dark still, and I can’t see her anyway. A fact which I’d like to remedy right away.
Pressing a quick kiss to her head, I sit up.
“Where are you going?”
“I want to turn on the light. I want to see you.”
“Okay. I want to see you too.”
I hesitate in the middle of the room for a split second, realizing that I’m completely naked and she’s still wearing clothes.
“Feeling shy all of a sudden?”
The challenge in her voice makes me reach for the light switch and flick it on, closing my eyes against the sudden brightness.
“Dude, if we’re going to spend time here, you need to get a bedside lamp or something. That overhead light is too much.”
I crack my eyes open with a laugh and look at her sitting on my bed, hair tousled, eyes skating over me, lingering below my waist.
“Look at you,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “I knew you had to be packing something decent there.”
My ears grow hot at her comment, but I ignore it and arch an eyebrow at her. “You’ve been thinking about my dick?”
She meets my eyes, unflinching. “Of course. Guys fantasize about tits. Girls wonder about the size of a guy’s dick.”
I move back to the bed and settle, drawing her down beside me. “What about dick pics, though? I thought girls hated those.”
“Unsolicited ones, yeah. Who wants that as an introduction? ‘Hi. I don’t know you. Here’s my dick.’ Would you want a picture of some random girl’s tits before you’ve even talked to her?”
I pretend to think about that. “Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe.”
She slaps me on the chest. “Liar! You of all people wouldn’t want that. Maybe some guys would. But not you.”
Bunching up her shirt on one side, I slip my hand underneath. “Let’s try it out. Let me see yours, and I’ll tell you if I like seeing them better from a girl I already know and like.”
“You know, if you want me to take my top off, you just have to ask.”
“I’m pretty sure I just did.”
She splutters out a laugh, but sits up and pulls her shirt over her head, leaving her in a pink lacy bra.
I reach out and undo the hooks at the back, and she lets the straps fall off her shoulders, leaving me staring at the bare expanse of her back. Running my hand up the curve of her spine makes her arch into me and let out a low sound of pleasure.
“That feels nice.”
Shifting so I’m directly behind her, I rub both hands up and down her back, pausing to knead her shoulders for a moment, then rubbing circles with my thumbs inside her shoulder blades and down the columns of muscle alongside her spine. She almost purrs in response. I place a soft kiss at the base of her neck. Another one a few inches lower, and I continue placing light kisses down the length of her spine, which causes her to let out a soft sigh of pleasure.
When I get to her waist, she twists around to look at me. “You’re so good to me.”
I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her down on top of me. “Not as good as you are to me.”
A smile tips up her pink lips. “I’m better at showing how I feel than I am at explaining it.”
My breath catches at the look on her face. “Can you try explaining?”
Her eyes examine mine, dark and wide, still heavy with lust and something else, her irises only a circle of ice blue banded by a narrow stripe of navy. “I love you,” she finally whispers.
My heart surges beneath hers where we’re pressed chest to chest. And her racing heart matches mine. I pull her face down to mine and claim her mouth, sliding my tongue inside, tasting the salty residue of my own release. But I don’t even care.
She loves me.
She loves me.
She kisses me back, her tongue dancing with mine, her breasts pressing into my chest, soft and beautiful.
When we finally break apart, I stare up into her gorgeous eyes. “I love you too.”
Her lips part in a smile, then her eyes widen as I roll her over so she’s under me, my dick hardening against the smooth fabric of her leggings.
I start tugging at her waistband. “These need to go. I want to feel your skin.”
With a laugh—the sound a burst of pure joy—she pushes me back enough so she can lift her hips, and I peel her leggings down and off in one quick motion, tossing them to the floor before diving back in, bracing myself over her, my legs tangling with hers.
“I want you,” I whisper in her ear.
Her eyes widen. “Do you have a condom? Because I don’t.”
With a groan of frustration I let my head drop to her shoulder. Dammit. Condoms. “No. I don’t.” I wasn’t expecting us to get to this point tonight. I was planning on our first time being a slow seduction after a romantic dinner and a mutual declaration of love.
Her hands cup my cheeks, and she pulls my face to hers for a sweet kiss, then she looks into my eyes. “It’s okay. We can do other stuff tonight. But you have to go shopping tomorrow.”
I blink at her. “I could go shopping now.”
She laughs again and pulls me in for another kiss. Then pushes me off. “Put your clothes on, then. We need to hit Walgreens.”
Chapter Twelve
Dominant: the fifth degree of the scale, called dominant because it is next in importance to tonic, the first degree. A dominant chord is any chord built upon that pitch.
Charlie
I sit on the bed and watch as Damian bends over to grab his underwear, enjoying the way his muscles flex and play under the smooth expanse of skin on his ass. His leg hair on his upper thighs is fuzzy and soft, as is his treasure trail. He only has a sprinkling on his upper chest. My boyfriend isn’t very hairy, which is just fine with me. Enough to know he’s not a prepubescent boy, not so much you could describe him as furry.
He turns, a wad of fabric still in his hands. “I’m clean, you know.”
My eyes find his, serious and steady, and I smile. “That’s good. I am too. But I’m not on the pill or anything.”
He nods and bends to get dressed. “Okay. Just thought I’d mention it.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. Part unbridled happiness—Damian said he loves me!—part amusement at how fast he went from insisting we wait to have sex to insisting we have sex as soon as possible. “I tried it once when I was nineteen. I cried almost every day the first month I was on it. Then I gained ten pounds even though I hadn’t changed anything about my diet or exercise program. My mom accused me of sneaking food or lying about my calorie counts, but weight gain is a documented side effect of hormonal birth control.” I shrug. “My mom was willing to deal with the mood swings, but she wouldn’t let me gain weight like that. So I haven’t taken it since.”
He straightens slowly, and this time when he looks at me his gaze isn’t heated with lust, it’s incensed. “Wait. You chose to take birth control, but your mom made you quit because you gained a few pounds? Are you serious?”
Heat prickles over my skin. “Well, it wasn’t quite like that. I wanted to quit taking them too. I hated the way they made me feel.”
“But you would’ve kept taking them anyway if you hadn’t gained weight.”
I drop my eyes, pulling my legs into my chest and wrapping my arms around them. “My mom is obsessed with my weight.” I let out a weak laugh. “She’d be horrified if she knew I’ve already gained almost ten pounds since I’ve been here. She’d tell me I’ve gotten fat.”
Damian’s silent, and I glance up to see his eyes sweeping over my body, cataloguing everything. “You’re
not fat.” He shakes his head. “Not at all.”
“Well, I have had to buy bigger clothes already.”
“No. Don’t do that. You’re not fat. If you gained weight, it’s because you weren’t eating enough before.” He stalks back to the bed, leaning over me, unwinding my arms from around my legs, stretching me out on the bed, running his hands over my rounder curves. “You look … soft. Lush. Beautiful.”
He kisses my mouth, the tip of each breast, my belly. “I love the way you look,” he whispers against my skin. “Which is part of the reason we’re about to go buy condoms at almost eleven o’clock on a Sunday night.”
Standing, he reaches for his jeans. “Now get dressed. I’ve waited long enough. I’m not waiting anymore.”
With a laugh, I get off the bed and retrieve my own clothes. “Suddenly overcome by lust?”
He stops with his shirt in his hand, hooking one arm around my waist and pulling me close. “No. Not lust. Love. I’ve been waiting because I want to make love to you. I want to savor you and take my time. And I want you to make love to me.”
My breath freezes in my lungs at his words. He presses another hard kiss to my mouth, which jumpstarts my ability to breathe again. “I want that, too.”
I’ve never made love to anyone. I’ve had guys tell me they love me because they thought it would make me more likely to sleep with them. Jared did that. And when that didn’t work, he threatened to sell me out to the tabloids. After I placated him with a blowjob, he told me if I didn’t have sex with him, he’d tell the tabloids the truth about what a good cocksucker I am. I’ve never felt so dirty in my life.
But with Damian, it’s all different. I wanted to do that for him tonight, because I love him. I want to have sex with him because I love him. Not because he expects it. Or because we’ve been on three dates.
And suddenly, I’m glad he insisted that we wait. It’ll be so much more special now than it would’ve been that first week.
Damian can’t keep his hands off me in the car on the way to the closest pharmacy, where he makes me come inside with him, asking if I have an opinion on the type of condoms we get. Giggling, we settle on a variety pack that claims to provide the most pleasure for both of us. Might as well get the best experience possible, right?
“Next time we’ll go for the Sensitivity Pack,” Damian whispers in my ear as he guides me to the cash register with his arm around my waist.
With a smirk, I shoot back, “That sounds like some kind of HR training manual. The Sensitivity Pack. The Workplace Harassment Bundle.”
Damian cracks up at my joke, ignoring the way the grandmotherly cashier purses her lips and looks us over as she scans the price tag on the box of condoms. I don’t miss it, though. I’m overcome with the urge to scandalize her even more. Something I’d never get away with in my old life. For one thing, it’d be all over the gossip sites in a hot second. And then I’d have to deal with a lecture from my mother from now until eternity about how I need to comport myself in public (yes, she actually uses words like “comport”) and how I’m an example for girls everywhere and need to be cognizant of that fact at all times.
But now I’m just a girl at a store buying condoms with her boyfriend. I can comport myself however the fuck I want.
With a dramatic gasp I turn and clutch Damian’s arm as he’s putting his debit card back in his wallet, making him jump in surprise. “Schmoopsie poo, we forgot the lube!” Grandma behind the cash register drops the condoms with a loud thunk, missing the plastic bag completely.
Damian blinks in surprise before his lips twitch up. “Oh, sweetums, I don’t think we’ll need it. I plan on making sure we have loooots of natural lubrication.”
I laugh in surprise and delight at his dirty response then snuggle closer, batting my eyelashes up at him. “Okay, boo boo bear. If you say so.”
He bends his head and kisses me. From our usual interactions in public, I expect it to be a quick, chaste kiss, but his arm pulls me against him, and his tongue slides along the seam of my lips. I open for him, sliding my tongue against his. And he kisses me breathless, his tongue seeking out every corner of my mouth.
When the cashier clearing her throat penetrates my lust-muddled consciousness, I realize she’s done it two or three times before succeeding in getting my attention. I blink up at Damian, my body pressed to his as tightly as possible, my arms twined around his neck, and take in his eyes hooded with lust, but still clear and in control. I think he heard her the first time. Times? Whichever.
He knows exactly what he’s doing.
And that sends another shiver of arousal skating down my spine. “Yeah. We’ll have plenty of natural lubrication,” I say in a husky voice.
Damian gives me a wicked smile.
The cashier clears her throat again, and we glance at her. “Your purchase?” She says the words like they taste foul, and she’s holding out the bag with the condoms like it contains dog shit.
Damian’s smile morphs from sexy to charming as he takes the bag from her hands. “Thanks!” he practically chirps as we leave. Once outside, I can’t hold back my giggles anymore, and Damian laughs right along with me as he unlocks his car and opens my door.
When he folds himself into his side, he turns to look at me before starting the car. “Schmoopsie poo? That was priceless.”
I shake my head. “She was acting like we were asking her to commit a crime by selling us condoms. I thought it would be fun to scandalize her a little more. I never expected your response, though.”
He chuckles and leans over for a quick kiss before turning the key in the ignition. “Yeah, well, that wasn’t just for scandalous effect.”
Crossing my legs, I squeeze them together at the low, sultry quality of his words. “I picked up on that.”
That wicked grin is back as he glances at me before pulling out of the parking lot, his hand once again returning to my leg as we head back to his apartment. Only this time, he presses against my knee, a wordless command to uncross my legs. I do, and his fingers inch up my thigh, pulling my legs open even more until he has free access to trail his fingers up and down, up and down, the caress almost tickling, totally hypnotic.
I shift in my seat, inching my hips forward, wanting him to get that last inch. He flashes me a grin, but doesn’t give me what I want. His fingers get closer, the back of his hand brushing against me, but never making it where I want him to touch. Even with my leggings on, I still want his hand to land squarely between my legs. With the way he’s teasing me, his dirty promise at the store, I have no doubt he’d find my clit through the layers of fabric. My head falls back against the headrest, and I close my eyes, pushing toward him each time his hand moves up my inner thigh.
Then the warmth and weight of his hand disappears just as I think I’m about to get what I want.
My eyes fly open to find the shadow of his face hovering almost in front of mine. He drops a kiss on my forehead. “We’re back at my place. But it looks like someone’s home. Is that a problem for you?”
I glance at the house, noticing the lights in the windows, the other car parked in the driveway. “Is he likely to interrupt?”
Damian shrugs. “Probably not. I wouldn’t know, though. You’re the first girl I’ve brought over like this.”
Biting my lip, I look from him to the house again. We could try my house, but there’s a fifty-fifty chance that Lauren’s home too. The other option is to wait until another time. But I don’t like that idea. Not after how keyed up I am from Damian’s touch on the ride back from the store.
As if he’s reading my mind, Damian starts, “Look, I get it. We could—”
I unbuckle my seatbelt and pop my door open before he can finish. Before getting out, I wrap one hand behind his neck and give him a hard kiss. “I don’t want to wait until another time. If not tonight, it’s bound to happen sooner or later, right? If I don’t want to run into your roommates in the morning, I’ll just be sure to sneak out by like two am.”
/> “Right.” Damian doesn’t sound thrilled about that last part, but he kisses me back. “You can leave whenever you want. But for the record, I’d like it if you stayed all night.”
“Noted.”
He kisses me once more, this one slow and exploratory. When he pulls back, his eyes skate over my face, his limned by the low light from the porch. “I love you, Charlie,” he says softly. “I’ll always want you to stay over after we make love. For as long as you’re willing to stay.”
“Then let’s get started.”
Whoever’s home isn’t in the living room when we slip in, and we hurry to Damian’s room, both to avoid bumping into whichever of his roommates drives a green Honda Civic and to quit delaying what’s already been delayed for far too long.
But when Damian flips on his light, I cringe. “Do you have a candle or anything?”
His eyes search the room, which I don’t find encouraging, but then he snaps his fingers. “Yes! There’s one in the bathroom. Hang on.”
He’s out the door before I can say anything, and I take my time looking over his room again. It’s simple. A full-size bed on a basic metal frame with pale green sheets and a simple black comforter. A small particle board desk. A mismatched dresser of the same construction. A closet with sliding doors on the wall adjacent to the bed. A window with drawn black light-blocking curtains above the bed. The desk and dresser are both piled with books and papers, his backpack leans against the wall between the door and the dresser, and clothes don’t quite make it to the laundry hamper in the corner on the other side of the dresser.
We haven’t spent a lot of time in here. He showed it to me before, but we typically hang out on the couch at my house while Lauren’s off practicing or hanging out with her friends. She’s auditioning for a concerto competition soon and she also has a recital coming up next semester, so she spends lots of time in the practice rooms.
Damian’s working on the same things, actually, but we still spend as much time together as we can. We meet for dinner, then go to separate practice rooms for at least an hour, sometimes two. He also practices between classes earlier in the day now so we can hang out together in the evenings. After tonight, will our evening routine change? Probably yes, to some extent. We sometimes end up at my house or his, which includes kissing and touching, but nothing as much as we’ve done tonight. After an intense make out session, he usually wants to stay in public the next night.
Broken Chords (Songs and Sonatas Book 4) Page 9
