I finally break our kiss to catch my breath, the mad fluttering in my thighs taking a minute to settle. Once my heartbeat returns to normal, I gently push him onto his back. “Let me love you.”
Pushing up his t-shirt, I kiss along his stomach and abs, licking every distinct line. His muscles tighten and ripple with every touch of my mouth, his breathing deep and anguished. When I’ve tasted every inch of his torso, I bestow sweet kisses down to the waist of his jeans. With my eyes locked boldly on his, I unbutton his pants. He lifts his hips to help me pull them, and his tight gray briefs, down.
Tossing them aside without a care in the world, I stare down at his bulging erection. His hand strokes my hair and I feel his eyes on me. Studying me? Memorizing this to replay in his dreams while we’re apart? Knowing he’s watching, I seductively nip my way back up the inside of his thigh, basking in the sounds he makes. His hands tighten on my hips as he groans out my name, spurring me on. I have no idea where I got my moves, it’s coming so naturally. I want to make him feel good and just go with my instincts, next running my tongue the length of his hardness.
“Oh God, Laney, yes.” His fingers dig into my scalp, moving my veil of hair back from my face. “I have to see you,” he says, his voice throaty and virile. I move my mouth down over him, exploring with my tongue. When I’ve tested and teased him enough, I take in as much of him as I can. Obviously no expert, my reflex tells me when I’ve gone far enough and I immediately train myself to breathe through my nose and relax.
This feels...erotic. Having him in my mouth, feeling him twitch in excitement, feels as good to me as I hope it does to him. One hand on his thigh to brace myself, I feel his muscles flex and I run my nails roughly up and down. Wrapping a hand around the rest of his long, thick length that I can’t love with my mouth, his hand joins mine. He shows me exactly what he wants; fast and hard. “Oh sweet damn, Laney, that is so good.” His voice trembles just like his body. I look up at him and he’s staring back down at me with genuine love, silently telling me what this, between us, means. His hand runs through my hair. “Lil bit harder, baby.”
His suggestive words empower me and I show him what he does to me. I put as much love and want into my sensual discovery of him as possible. Soon he growls out, “I’m close, Laney, ah...p-pull back, baby.”
But I don’t move away. I take all he has to give me.
He’s even sexy when he pulls up his jeans and crouches down, pulling me back with him to the blanket. One hand draws lazy swirls on my belly as his erratic breathing settles. “You’re so amazing,” he whispers as I lay my head on his chest.
“So are you, Ev. I really needed today,” I sigh.
“The thought of being apart again is killing me, Laney. I don’t know if I can do this.”
Hot tears begin to fall; I know too well what he means. We just loved each other. It felt so right, but very soon this euphoria will be gone and ice cold misery will replace it. We both already feel it coming and it’s been mere minutes. Why is life so tough?
“I’m having a really hard time too, Evan,” I choke out. “It’s like I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. I’m lonely and miss you terribly, but that wouldn’t change if you were mine. You’d still be so far away and then I’d just have to add guilt if I had fun without you. I suspect you’re dealing with the same thing?” I peer up at him questioningly.
“I know exactly how you feel, precious girl.” He kisses the top of my head. “We’ve never been more than a stone’s throw apart. It’s going to be different and it sucks.”
“It’s not just that. I’ve met a few fun people, most are guys, and I feel like I’m doing something wrong. Then I wonder what you’re doing and it eats away at me, Evan.” I plead to him silently, tell me the answer, Evan.
We snuggle and talk and he opens up more; he felt the same way—worried and insecure about what I’m doing all the time. His social life is apparently a lot wilder than mine, and he’s forthcoming that I’d been scarily accurate about the temptations he faced. He doesn’t, however, admit anything specific, like what I saw in the picture. I say nothing. There’s absolutely no point. Sure, I can make him feel guilty or get mad, but enough with the merry-go-round.
“It’s not that I want them, Laney. I want you, but I can’t have you...and sometimes the thought crosses my mind that it’d feel good to fill the void. Not sex, just someone to hug or spend time with, but the thought of another man touching you makes me want to kill someone, so then I’m a hypocrite...a lonely, depressed hypocrite. Do you know what I’m trying to say?”