“Turned on?” I whisper, an arm around his shoulders like he’s a life raft.
“Fuckable,” he says.
Suddenly, it occurs to me that he’s missing an important piece of relevant information, even as he strums my clit again and my back arches, my arm tightening around his shoulder, the bannister behind me.
“Caleb,” I murmur, and I’m met with a growl from somewhere deep in his chest, his fingers speeding up.
It takes all my presence of mind to grab his wrist, but I do.
“Wait,” I say.
“You all right?” he asks, going perfectly still.
“I have to tell you something. I’m a virgin,” I say, getting it all out in one breath.
Caleb just looks at me for a long moment. He studies my face like I’m a math problem, the solution slowly falling into place.
“By philosophy or happenstance?” he asks.
I’m still holding his wrist, his fingers still in my shorts, between my slick folds.
“Happenstance,” I say.
“Do you want to stop?”
“No!” I say, then clear my throat, release his hand. “No. It just seemed like…”
His fingers start moving again, and I bite my lip mid-sentence, eyes sliding shut.
“Relevant information,” I force myself to say.
“It doesn’t change my plans, if that’s what you mean,” he says, and pulls me away from the bannister, pushes me toward the ascending staircase. “I’ve thought about this at least once a day for two months, and it was usually with one hand on my cock.”
With that he lowers me to the stairs and then he’s on top of me, my legs around him, and he strokes my clit and kisses me hard and just as I’m getting close to the edge, breath coming in gasps, he stops stroking me and slides his hand down further until his fingers are between my lips, teasing my entrance.
“Yes,” I gasp, not waiting to be asked.
He plunges his fingers into me, all the way to the knuckle, and he crooks them forward and tugs my shorts down with his other hand and then massages my clit with his thumb, in perfect time with his fingers, and every stroke brings me closer and closer and closer to the edge until finally, I lose control.
His forehead is against mine, our faces together, and I’ve got one elbow under me the other in his hair and I’m pretty sure I’m whimpering oh fuck yes over and over again, because other words escape me.
I’ve never come like this before. I’ve had plenty of orgasms — my best friend works for a sex shop, where she teaches a class called The Art of Self-Pleasure, so I’m more than aware of how to get myself off — but never one like this.
No one else has ever made me come. I’ve never needed it like this, to the exclusion of anything else. I’ve never come and still wanted more, still wanted to tear another person’s clothes off and beg them to fuck me, right here on this staircase.
“Holy shit,” Caleb whispers, his thumb skipping past my clit one last time, my whole body jolting. “That was beautiful.”
I’m still lying back on the stairs, trying to catch my breath and Caleb pulls his fingers out of me, pushes my legs apart, climbs on top of me. I reach down and find the undone button on his jeans, acutely aware that he’s still hard as a rock and that despite what just happened, I want him.
And then, just as I find his cock, the organ music stops. I wrap my fingers around him and he groans softly, his hips driving forward, pushing his long, thick shaft through my hand.
“Sank you all very much!” the organist suddenly declares, his words floating down from the top of the stairs. “And may the rest of your All Hallow’s Eve be… delightful.”
With that, steps cross the ceiling above us, creaking along the old wood and instantly, Caleb and I realize the exact same thing.
This is the staircase to the organ.
We’re about to get caught.
Caleb leaps up, grabs my hand, pulls me to standing as I’m already putting my shorts back into place, zipping them, and stuffing my boobs back into my bra. I grab my jacket from the floor just as the top step creaks, and then Caleb’s opening the door and we’re out in the foyer in the middle of a flood of undergrads, all leaving Scarborough Hall at the same time.
We just got caught, I think, my heart nearly exploding in my chest.
Oh God, we fooled around once and instantly got caught.
But I look around. I glance over at Caleb who’s standing there, rigid, affecting a casual pose that doesn’t convince me at all, and I realize: I don’t see anyone I know.
Seconds later, the door behind us swings open and the organist comes out, read cape swishing behind him. Caleb nods at him, and he nods back, and I start to relax because even though we did the dumbest possible thing, we didn’t get caught.