Jeremy’s wearing sweat pants and an aging Forsaken Custom Cycle T-Shirt. His hair is damp and slicked back from his face. He always looks good in my eyes, but right now he’s especially attractive. Maybe it’s because I’ve had a sort of epiphany since the last time I saw him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. His brows draw together, and a scowl forms on his face. I notice the beginnings of a nasty bruise on his temple that extends down to his cheekbone. With a light touch, I trace the slight discoloration of the bruise. I hate seeing him hurt, especially not knowing how it happened. I don’t ask because it’s club business, and I’d rather not be told that. He knows I only want to know if it has to do with Mindy’s rape. The rest is up to him whether or not he feels he needs to share.
“Nothing. I just wanted to be with you,” I say and let my fingers slide from the bruise on his face down the line of his jaw to his chin and then down his throat to the center of his chest. He’s silent and fully aware of my touch, but he doesn’t move. For weeks now, we’ve been dancing around the physical aspects of our relationship, sometimes careful, sometimes cautious of the limitations of privacy. Now that I’ve staged my breakout and I’m here, I just want him. No explanations, no talking—nothing. Just him and me, together in a way I don’t want to be with anyone else.
I step out of my sandals and then slowly unzip my hoodie. Jeremy watches me cautiously, like he’s not sure I’m really here in the room with him. The hoodie falls to the floor. My hands shake as I lift my shirt over my head to reveal my old and faded sports bra. It’s not what I expected I’d be wearing the first time I had sex, but that’s okay. It feels right with him. In fact, I can’t imagine it being right or better with anyone else.
Jeremy’s eyes widen just slightly before he regains his composure and purses his lips in appreciation. I give him a soft smile and slowly unbutton my jeans. They slide down my legs and collect at my feet. My thighs feel like Jell-O as I step out of them. My panties aren’t the newest in my collection either. So that kind of sucks, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
Following my lead, Jeremy reaches up over the back of his head and pulls his shirt off and lets it fall beside him. His sweats are next, leaving him in a pair of light gray boxers. Despite his experience, he seems as nervous as I am, which actually soothes my nerves some.
“Are you sure?” His voice is full of hope and restraint. I’ve barely nodded my head before he’s on me with one hand on my ass and the other tilting my head up to kiss him. Rubbing my thighs together and pressing myself even further into him, I relish in the feeling of his hard dick. Jeremy gets hard about as often as I assume any teenage boy does, but it’s something altogether different when I’m enticing him on purpose.
I reach up and press my lips against his. Our kiss soon evolves from something chaste that we manage to sneak in when Dad’s not looking to a wild frenzy of tongues and lips and even a clank of our teeth. We smile together through the kiss and slow our movements. Jeremy’s hands move up and down my nearly naked body, caressing my pliant flesh. I press into his warm skin and bask in his muscled frame. He’s always been well built, but the last several months of maintaining a rigorous weight-lifting routine is paying off big time. He reaches around and unhooks the wide clasp of my bra. Any other sports bra and I’d be awkwardly trying to shimmy out of it and likely elbowing him in the eye. A bundle of nervous anticipation, I hold my breath until my lungs strain for air, trying to be grateful for at least having chosen accessible, if not pretty, undergarments.
“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers, putting me at ease.
“I’ve just been thinking about this for so long.” I drop my shoulders and peel my bra away. It falls to the floor without a sound.
“You think about this?” he asks with a husky voice. He keeps his attention on my face, surprisingly, and doesn’t let it veer toward my chest. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I expected him to practically maul me. But he isn’t, and the fact that he’s being so slow and gentle makes me more confident in what I’m doing. I just have to get past the wobbly feeling in my knees, and then maybe I’ll be able to fully enjoy it.
We slowly and awkwardly peel away the remainder of one another’s clothing. My panties and then his boxers join the rest of our clothes on the floor. I’ve fantasized about having this with him. I’ve even tried to plan it. None of those fantasies or plans worked out so well. We kept getting busted and thwarted at every turn.
Feeling brave, I reach down between us to feel him, but he guides my hand back up at the elbow.
“I love you,” he blurts out. His navy-blue eyes slide over mine, his brows draw together, and his expression darkens. His arms lock in place, and it’s like he’s turned to stone.
Then I realize that he’s told me he loves me. And I’m standing here like an idiot. I breathe in deeply, smile widely, and laugh happily like a moron.
“I’m naked,” I whisper with wet eyes.