Reagan
I wake up to the feel of my bottom nestled in Pete’s lap, his hardness pressed against my butt. He rocks against me, and I come awake slowly. He pushes my hair from my nape, and his lips touch the sensitive place where my neck meets my shoulder. Strong fingers cup my breast, and he doesn’t move. He doesn’t inch toward my nipple, he just strokes his fingers lazily beneath the sensitive sweep of my boob.
“Pete,” I whisper.
“What?” he whispers back, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Are you trying to put the moves on me?” I ask.
He chuckles. “If you have to ask that, I’m doing a really bad job at it.” He rolls me to my back and throws my leg over his shoulder, and his breath is hot against my curls as he grins and says, “I’ll have to work harder.”
I gasp when he spreads me open with his thumbs and bends his head, his tongue lolling against my * over and over. “I’ll have you trained before I know it,” I say. But I can barely get my breath. I reach a hand into his hair and hold him tightly, pushing him where I want him. He latches onto my * just as he slides his finger inside me. He’s less careful with me today than he has been in the past. He seems less afraid to try something new with me, but he’s still gentle and slow. I know that he holds back for me, and I wonder how long he’ll feel the need to do that. Forever?
I’m not afraid of him or what he does to me, and I never have been. I grip the sheets in my hands and squeeze tightly as he crooks a finger inside me and reaches a spot I didn’t know existed. I cry out, and he gently and rhythmically sucks my * in time with the movement of his fingers until I spiral out of control. I come so hard I can barely breathe, and he drinks in the power of it. I push his head back when I grow too sensitive, and he unlatches from my * and licks across it. I tremble with aftershocks.
Pete wipes his face on my inner thigh and then crawls up my body. He reaches over me and grabs a condom and sheathes himself quickly. Just when I think he’ll settle between my legs, he doesn’t. He rolls my body over slowly, and slides a pillow beneath my hips. “This all right?” he asks. He puts his weight on my back, and his lips touch my shoulder again, just like he did a few minutes ago, and he gently bites down. “I need you,” he says.
I nod. “It’s all right,” I say. He sinks into me from behind. It’s one slow thrust until he’s fully seated inside me. “Are you sore?” he asks.
“A little,” I admit. There’s a little pinch, but I welcome it because Pete’s inside me again, and that’s right where I want him to be.
“I’ll be careful,” he whispers. I know he will. I don’t want careful. I want Pete.
He takes me with lazy strokes, filling and then retreating, pushing and then pulling, riding me with care and caution. I came with his mouth between my legs, but I feel a build-up again. It’s a completely different feeling. It’s more of a warm wash of heat rather than a raging, quaking orgasm. I come, and he grunts and pushes himself deep inside me, his body shaking as he comes with me. He grunts and makes a noise low in his throat. It’s a noise of completion. All too soon, he pulls out, and stands up, removes the condom and cleans himself up. Then he hands me a towel and turns his back. I wipe off really quickly, and then he’s back in bed with me, drawing me in to his chest.
“You okay?” he asks, pulling me down to lie in the crook where his arm meets his shoulder.
“I’m not going to break, Pete,” I say quietly. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.”
He startles and looks down his nose at me. “I’m not.”
“You are,” I say quietly. I hate that I’m doing this. But I can’t have a relationship based on fears he thinks he wants to avoid with me.
My phone dings, and I reach for my pants on the floor because I know it’s in my pocket.
I pull it out and read the screen.
Dad: Where are you?
Me: I’m at Pete’s.
Dad: Why?
Shit. What do I say?
Me: Can we talk about this later?
Dad: Sure, we can. As soon as you arrive at your apartment where we’ve been waiting since last night.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Me: I’ll be there in a few minutes.
I heave a sigh and lay my head on the bed. Dad is going to kill me. Or kill Pete. “My parents are at my apartment,” I say.
“Oh no,” he breathes. He rolls to the edge of the bed and starts to get dressed.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
He looks up, his brow arched. “I’m going with you.”
“That’s not necessary,” I say. In fact, I’d rather he not. Dad’s going to be pissed and seeing Pete is only going to make it worse.
“I don’t mind,” he says, and he keeps getting dressed.
“Pete,” I call. He finally looks up at me.
“What?”
“I’d rather you stay here.”
“Why?” He looks confused.
“It’s Sunday morning. My parents are probably going to stay all day. I need to spend some time with them.” I really just want to spare him my dad’s wrath.
He nods. “Okay,” he says slowly. He kicks his shoes back off.
I get dressed and go over to give him a kiss. “I’ll call you later?” I ask.
He nods. “Sure.”
I need to deal with this situation with my dad so that I’ll never have to deal with it again.