by Rae Kennedy
He steps back to get a better view as I play with the vibrator. He’s not touching himself anymore, though he’s still hard as a rock, just watching, enjoying the show.
I run the cool thrumming end of it over my clit and through my wetness as his eyes darken. I tease my breast with my other hand, and he starts tugging at his cock again and stepping closer.
I bring the vibrator back up to my clit, circling it then pressing down. My clit pulses hard under the pressure, and the deep ache starts inside me, warm tingles that build and tighten and demand release. My pussy clenches down on nothing and that’s when I push the vibrator into my needy cunt.
“Fuck. That’s so hot. I want—” He puts one hand on my bent knee, squeezing it hard as his other hand keeps working his cock.
I pump the vibrator in and out of me a few times before circling it back over my clit.
“You want to do it?” I ask.
“I want to do so many things to you.”
“Here.” I hold out the glistening vibrator to him.
He takes it, immediately licking the end and sucking it into his mouth. Tasting me. Then he lays down next to me, kissing me as we scoot up the bed. His hard cock is pressed to my thigh and then he slips the metallic vibrator between my legs and pleasures me with it.
I'm already so close to coming I can barely stand it. I can’t hold still, I’m writhing with need. He rubs it up and down, the constant thrumming too much for my clit. It throbs painfully, on the cusp of release—just as he takes it away.
“Wha?” I hadn’t realized how tightly my eyes were clamped shut until I open them and see him sucking on the vibrator again.
His eyes are on mine as he does it, so I know how much he’s enjoying this. Then he takes it out and instead of attending to my clit again, he sinks it inside me and fucks me with it. His gaze is locked onto where he’s penetrating me, and as he watches the vibrator go in and out, in and out, he fists his cock again. And, shit, the tension is increasing again, like my body is being wound up tighter and tighter.
He leans over me as he continues to play with the vibrator and kisses my neck. He rubs out and around, up to my clit, then back to plunging it in and out of me again. He whispers quiet words against my neck about how sexy I am, how much I turn him on, how hard he is for me, how much he loves fucking me.
As he does it, we’re moving in unison, grinding and rocking and moaning together. I reach down and clasp my hand around him. He thrusts his cock into my hand in tempo with the vibrator, like it’s him entering me instead of it. I wish it were him. He’s so much thicker and he would feel even better. And then the dam breaks, sending an intense cascade ripping through me and I gasp and cry out as I tense and spasm beneath him. He kisses my mouth as I come, holding the slippery vibrator to my clit, coaxing out all of my ripples of pleasure.
I breathe shakily against his lips, coming down slowly from the intensity. And he just holds me, planting the softest of kisses to my swollen lips even though he’s still hot and hard in my hand.
“I want you to fuck me,” I say between kisses.
“I think I just did.” There’s a satisfied glint in his eyes.
“No. I want you. I want you inside me.”
I want to be with him more than I’ve wanted to be with anyone before. I want to give him the experience he's never had with anyone else. I want to be his first. I want to see the look in his eyes when he first sinks into me and feels my wet cunt tighten around his hard cock.
I want. I need.
“Ky, I—”
I squeeze his erection, and it throbs against my palm.
“Don’t you want to put it in me? Don’t you want to feel me around you?”
He hesitates, so I keep going.
“We’re already having sex. How is it that much different than what we’ve already done?”
He’s chewing on his lip, but I know he’s enjoying the thought because he’s growing impossibly bigger in my hand.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, because I really, really do. Trust me. My body wants to do that more than anything right now, but I can’t. Not yet. I want to make sure the feelings are right.”
Does that mean he doesn’t have the right kind of feelings for me? Or are they just not strong enough?
“Okay.” I nod but it’s hard to smile.
I know he’s not rejecting me, but it still kind of hurts. Stop it, Kyla. He adores me. He wants to be with me. He’s my boyfriend, for fuck’s sake. He just wants to go slow. I can handle that. I can respect that. I can be a mature fucking adult about it.
“I don’t want you to feel pressured into it.” I want him to want it. To want me. “I promise I won’t bring it up again. The ball is totally in your court. Well, both your balls are. I don’t know where I was going with that but, you know what I’m saying. I’ll wait for you. As long as you want.” Please don’t make me wait too long, though.
He smiles as he caresses his hand over my hip and up my ribs to cup a breast and back down my stomach just to make the slow, lazy circle again. My skin prickles and my nipples harden.
I stroke in the same slow rhythm along his shaft. “But when you want it, just say the word and I’m there. You can have me any way you want me.”
He smirks devilishly. “Any way I want you?”
“Uh huh.”
“There is...there is something I’d like to do with you. But if I tell you, will you promise not to judge me?”
CHAPTER 26
“Okay. What is it?” I move my hand down to cup his balls and give them a gentle squeeze and I love the husky groan he lets out.
“Are you on the pill?”
“Yes. Why?” Did I take my pill this morning? Yeah, I’m pretty sure I did. Should probably be more vigilant about that.
“If you don’t want to do it, all you have to do is say so, okay?”
“Gallagher, I swear, if we’re having the pegging conversation again, I’m just going to go order a strap-on right now.”
He chuckles.
“I’m serious.”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Tell me.”
“I want to”—he drops his gaze to my mouth and bites his own swollen lip—“I want to come on your pussy and then lick you clean.”
I—holy fuck. “You want to lick your own cum off my pussy?”
He nods, his breathing heavier. “I want to know what you and I taste like together. Do you think that’s gross?”
“No.” I swallow thickly. “That sounds hot. Kiss me after so I can taste too.”
“Fuck.”
He kisses me hard and takes over jacking his cock. He’s pumping it furiously as he kneels between my open legs. His pale skin is flushed red all over, and he grunts as his forearm flexes and his abs contract.
“Are you close?” I ask as I spread my pussy lips for him with my fingers.
“Yes.”
“Come on me. I want to feel it.”
“Shit. Ky. I’m—” He leans on one hand, clutching to the bed as his other grips his pulsing cock, aiming it toward my open pussy. He tenses and shudders as warm liquid hits my skin in spurts.
We’re both captivated by the sight of his milky cum striped across my mound and dripping down, covering my clit and filling my pink folds.
Still breathing in shallow, ragged breaths, Eric drags two fingers down my belly and over my pubic bone, spreading his sticky cum around. He glances at my face for a second, our eyes meeting, and he silently asks me one more time if I’m okay with this. I give him the slightest of nods, and he doesn’t need any more encouragement.
He dips down, his tongue darting out to take a tentative taste. It’s the gentlest of swipes along my outer folds, warm and soft. Our gazes lock as he licks again, this time less hesitant, his tongue pressing firmly over my skin, cleaning his mess. And then he’s eating me, lapping at my clit as he sucks and swallows.
I throw my head back, squeezing my eyes shut and arching my back as he feasts. I’m s
opping wet and hot from both of our spent juices, and he’s licking and moaning and slurping, and then the tip of his slick finger presses against the bud of my ass.
“Ky?” He sounds choked.
“Yes. Yes, Eric, please.”
The wet sounds are too much to handle as he devours me and sucks at my clit and finger fucks my ass. The spasm starts before I know it’s happening.
“There it is. Let go. Good girl.”
I come against his tongue, my fingers entwined in his hair as he looks up at me, watching my face as I shatter to pieces.
He crawls up my body, keeping the heel of his hand pressed to my still aching and pulsating clit, and he kisses me. I dig my fingers into his hair to hold him to me as I explore his mouth with mine. His tongue is sweet and salty with the undercurrent of our combined musk.
It takes several minutes to come down from the high and my pulse to quiet. Eric’s bare chest is heavy on mine and our kissing has become soft nose nuzzling and smiling dazedly at each other.
“That was...”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be right back,” he says before kissing my forehead and pushing himself off the bed. He pads out the door, the sound of running water coming from down the hall shortly after. He comes back in a minute with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth and a washcloth.
“Are you using my toothbrush?”
He smirks and shrugs as he starts brushing his teeth and walking toward me. He’ll share my fucking toothbrush but not my popcorn. He’s such a weirdo. But he’s my fucking weirdo. And I love him.
Wait—
Then he moves the warm, damp washcloth between my legs. The terrycloth is just a little too rough on my still over stimulated sex and I let out a little whimper.
“You okay?” he asks around the toothbrush.
“Yes.”
He cleans my stomach and the insides of my thighs and between my cheeks with a gentle hand and then retreats back to the bathroom. He returns without the toothbrush and washcloth and goes to my underwear drawer. I hope he’s not about to suggest we play with Chris Hemsworth or Chris Evans—I don’t think I can handle another orgasm just yet.
But he comes back to me with a pair of pretty floral cotton panties and slides them up my legs, his warm hands skimming my thighs at the same time. I help him get them over my hips and then he flutters light kisses up my stomach and over the swells of my breasts, up my neck and then finally kissing my lips. His breath is cool and minty. He pulls back with a contented smile.
The words are bubbling up in my throat and dancing on my tongue, threatening to fly out of my impulsive mouth. I love you. Fuck.
He pulls the covers over our bodies as he lays on top of me, settling his head to my chest. I hold him there, noticing the faint scent of shampoo in his hair. He tightens his arms around my waist, his deep breaths tickling at my nipples.
“I can’t stay here tonight, can I?”
“Probably not.”
He sighs. “When’s your next day off? Saturday?”
“I’m working Saturday now, actually. Part of my mother’s plan to get me out of the house sooner.”
“When are you going to visit your grandpa?”
I love that Pops is his first thought. “I’ll go see him on Sunday.”
“Will you stay the night with me at my place Saturday, then? I can go up with you Sunday morning to visit him if you want.”
“Yeah. I’d love that.” Maybe Saturday will be a good time to tell Gracie about him and me as well. I’ll just casually mention that I can’t spend the night with her because I already made sleepover plans with her brother. That’ll definitely work. Right?
Eric snuggles in closer, tucking his head under my chin. Wishing we could lie here like this, tangled up in each other all night, I let my eyelids fall shut. I stroke his hair and his back until I’m too tired and too relaxed to move.
* * *
“Wow. You sure do love pie!” Charlotte says with her dimples showing as she walks past Eric.
I set the plate of fresh apple pie down in front of him on the counter with a wink. It’s the third day in a row he’s come in during my shift. And all he’s ordered is pie. Then he proceeds to eat it slowly while smirking and watching me as I work. It’s a routine I’m not at all upset about. It’s nice to see him while I’m working, and I like that he wants to see me just as much.
It’s also his routine, though, to ask if I’ve told Gracie yet.
“Saturday. I’m going to tell her on Saturday.” Shit, that’s tomorrow already.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Okay.” He squeezes my hand before he gets up to leave. “See you at dinner?”
I nod.
And at dinner, just like we have the last few nights, Eric sits across from me as we eat and play footsie under the table.
“You’ve been over a lot lately,” Gracie says to him.
“Oh hush,” Bev says. “He is welcome over as often as he likes.” She turns to Eric. “We love having you here, honey.”
Eric and Gracie exchange odd, playful glances throughout dinner and it’s these glimpses of levity that make me think I can totally tell her. She’ll be happy for us, I know it, even if she isn’t her normal, upbeat self. Maybe I can even tell her early, tell her tonight.
But then I notice that she’s barely touched her dinner.
She tends to lose her appetite when she's upset, especially after a break up. She always bounces back in time and it has only been a week. She hardly ate for two weeks after her high school boyfriend broke up with her and then spread nasty rumors about her.
She’s still not eating much during Saturday’s dinner. Maybe I should wait to tell her. Give her another week of just girl time?
Eric ambushes me outside the bathroom door, his hands on my hips gently tugging me down the darkened hallway. In the shadows, he kisses me while caressing my face.
“You’re still going to tell her tonight, right?” he whispers against my lips.
“Uh. Yeah. I am.”
“Good. Do you want me to be there with you?”
“No, that’s all right.”
“Okay.” He leans in, his arm tightening at my waist. “I’m excited for you to stay with me. Finally. I can’t wait to hold you all night and wake up to you in my bed.”
“I want that too.” I pull him closer to kiss the pulse point just under his jaw.
“I’ll be at my place. Don’t make me wait too long, Rosenbaum.”
Thank God for hundred-year-old hardwood floors because the creak in the floorboards alerts us before the sound of footsteps does. Eric backs away, farther into the dark hallway and I come out just as Gracie comes into view.
“Hey, you’d been gone a while. Everything okay?” There’s a little crease between her brows.
“Yeah, great. Perfect. Tired. I maybe ate too much. Let’s go sit down. Do you want to watch more Drag Race or British Baking Show?”
We go up to her room and settle cross-legged on her bed while she pulls up a show. I’m too busy playing with the frayed hem of my shorts to watch, though. I sit up straight and steel myself.
“Can I tell you something? It’s important.”
Gracie looks over as she’s braiding one side of her pink hair. “Of course. What’s up? Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Everything is fine. More than fine. It’s great. I just need to tell you something and it’s sort of big—”
Her eyes widen and she drops her braid, looking at me intently.
“I mean, it’s not that big. Nothing life changing or crazy like moving to Chicago.”
She smiles and rolls her eyes. “Ky, I can tell you’re stalling. What is it?”
“Okay, so—”
My phone rings loudly on the comforter between us. It’s my mom. I hit ignore.
“Sorry. So it’s about me and—”
The damn phone buzzes again, my mom’s name flashing across the screen.
“Maybe you should answer that,” Gracie says.
I turn it on silent. “This will just take a minute, and then I’ll call her right back.” I take a deep breath. Rip it off like a bandage, Ky, you can do it.
But then my screen lights up again, this time with a text.
Mom: Kyla, I need to you call me right now. It’s about Grandpa.
CHAPTER 27
It was another stroke. We stayed in the hospital with him for three days. He couldn’t eat on his own. Could barely breathe on his own. He hardly opened his eyes. I don’t even think he knew we were there.
He wasn’t a good candidate for surgery, and doctors said little could be done at this point besides measures to keep him comfortable.
He died on Tuesday.
I haven’t cried. Being home now feels strange. I’m numb and nothing feels real. Like I'm walking through a dream-like trance in an alternate universe, and nothing that happens really matters because I’m just going to wake up in a little while anyway.
I want to wake up.
I crawl in bed, ignoring all of my missed calls and unanswered texts. They’re mostly from Gracie and Eric but I don’t want to face them right now. Like acknowledging their sympathy means admitting that this is actually happening. So I’m just going to go to sleep and keep on pretending that it will all be better tomorrow.
When I wake up, there’s a warm body next to me. I roll toward the sound of quiet breathing but when I reach out, the arms that come around me are too small, too smooth. I’m not enveloped in Eric’s strong hold, but Gracie’s warm, soft hug. She smells like sweet peaches and I settle back down as she hums me a soothing little song.
I flutter in and out of sleep throughout the day, the last few days of awful to no sleep catching up with me.
The next couple days go by in a fuzzy haze of sunrises and sunsets and days spent sleeping and nights spent up. Gracie doesn’t leave my side, letting me sleep or just be quiet as much as I want while braiding my hair and supplying me with copious amounts of tea and snacks. And when I want to talk, she just listens as I go on and on. I tell her how guilty I feel for working that Saturday when I should have gone and seen him that morning. I tell her how I should have gone and seen him every day like I always had, even though he was far away. How maybe if I had, he wouldn’t have deteriorated so fast. How maybe I could have helped him more.
