She sucks in a breath, her mouth hovering over mine, and I smile as she squirms.
This is all there is. This could be it.
“I wasn’t built for what they taught us we were built for,” I whisper, running my fingers so softly over her pussy. “I was built to feel this.”
Her smooth skin is like a feast, but all I can think about is what it will feel like on my mouth.
She holds onto me. “Don’t take off my clothes, okay?” she says. “I don’t want them to see.”
“I’m taking off your clothes.”
And she whimpers, looking like she’s in pain.
But she doesn’t fight me.
“I’m not stopping this for a hurricane,” I tell her. I slip my arm between her and the bed, and I pull her body tight against mine, stroking her cunt.
I kiss her, slow and soft, gliding my tongue up her neck and rubbing my body up on hers. I suck her lip, going back for more and more. She tastes like a drug that if I go too fast, I’ll go out of my mind and lose control. I need to slow down.
Rolling her nub underneath my finger, I feel the pulse in her clit throbbing as she starts to pump her hips into it, seeking me out.
She looks over my shoulder, breathing hard. “They’re gonna see us.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
Tell me to touch you. Tell me you want to touch me.
She pulls her arms away, and a shot of agony hits me that she’s pulling away until…her hands dip between us, and she unbuttons her shirt. My thighs warm, my clit throbbing, and lightning flashes through the room again, illuminating her beautiful body as she opens her shirt for me.
I dip my hand inside, cupping a breast, and her hard nipple makes my palm tingle.
She shivers, grappling for me like she’s dying, and I roll over on top of her, both of us glancing over to the other bed for a quick check. Krisjen is nearest, curled in the fetal position facing away from us, and Amy is on her stomach, her head facing the other wall.
I look back down at Clay, her soft, smooth flesh filling my hand, and I come down, kissing her hard.
She pulls up my top, her hands roaming up my back and over my hips, still too timid to go for what she wants. I peel open her shirt again, reveling in her naked skin, and then I sit up, carefully and quietly pulling my top off over my head.
I drop my shirt, watching Clay watch me, her eyes trailing over my body. I know she’s seen me naked, and I’ve seen her, but not like this. This is for us.
Sitting up, she holds my waist and looks up into my eyes, the heat of her breath falling on my chest.
“I’m still scared,” she whispers.
I stroke her hair. “Me too.”
I peel off her shirt, both of us glancing at Krisjen and Amy again.
Still no movement.
We should go into the bathroom. We should just wait until I have her in my room or me in hers, and there’s no risk.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll stop whenever you want. We don’t have to do anything.”
“I’m afraid I’ll feel different,” she tells me as I run my hand up and down her stomach, squeezing her breast gently.
She means she’s worried she’ll feel badly about it afterward.
It’s easy for women to feel shame about sex. We’re good at feeling dirty for things that should be natural. She’s afraid she’ll feel wrong. That something will change and the knowledge of who she was will be lost. It hurts a little.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” I gaze down at her. “Sex is a big deal.”
“I didn’t think it would be.”
“Why?”
“With you, I mean,” she says. “I thought…”
“You thought it wouldn’t be real.”
Because I’m a fetish.
She gazes up at me, and I move to climb off her, but she grabs my thighs, keeping me there.
“I thought it wouldn’t matter,” she murmurs. “It does. I want you so badly, and I’m scared it won’t stop, Liv.”
My insides flip, and I push her back down to the bed, her skin on mine as I cup her face.
She stares into my eyes, and then…her legs fall open, and I nestle between them. Our warmth seeps through the thin fabric of our shorts, and I’m dizzy at the feel of her underneath me… God.
I squeeze her jaw. “Keep talking, Collins,” I growl in a low voice over her lips. “Tell me more. You fucking owe me.”
She pants under my body, squirming and dying for it, and I love having her in my hands and so pliant. I roll my hips, grinding into her as I come in for kiss after kiss.
“I love the way you laugh,” she says, quivering. “I never make you laugh, and I hate it when I see you from a distance and someone else did. But I love it, too.”