Once everyone is out, we finish cleaning up the mess. I carry black bags of bottles out to the garage. We’ll have to take them to the store tomorrow before her parents get home. The last thing I want is for her to get into trouble or for them to think I did this and ask me to leave. Although if that happened, I’d just take a bus to New York and start living my life – there’s no way I’d go back to my parents. When everything is cleaned, furniture replaced and the house smelling nice, Dylan excuses herself to go take a shower.
I sit on my bed, listening to her sing in the shower. She’s loud. Her voice carries through the walls. It’s funny, all the time I spent with Hadley, she never once sang out loud. Maybe it was because that’s what she did for a living, but listening to Dylan makes me realize how real she is when she’s around me. When the shower shuts off, I jump. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not like I’m expecting anything to happen.
I step into my doorway just as Dylan comes out of the bathroom. Her hair is wet, leaving drops of water all over her shoulders. The hot pink towel she’s using to cover herself leaves very little to the imagination. She walks over to me, my mind forgetting that I’m standing in just my boxers, as her finger trails down my chest, resting when it reaches the top of them. I swallow hard, afraid to make any sudden movements or errant outbursts.
“I…” I clear my throat and try again. “Shower,” I spit out, earning a wicked grin from her. My hand runs through my hair, pulling at the ends. I don’t know what I’m doing here, no freaking clue how to proceed, but I think I want to… No, I know I want to.
Dylan kisses my chest, lingering there for a moment before walking down the hall to her room. I lean out of the doorway and watch as her hips sway back and forth. Taking a deep breath I hightail it to the shower and rush through getting clean.
I take a chance and go to her room when I’ve finished. I didn’t put on a t-shirt when I got out, hoping she’d want to kiss me again. I stand in her doorway. She’s lying on her stomach, her legs bent at the knees and crossed at her ankles. They move up and down as her head bops like she’s listening to music. Her hand moves back and forth, turning pages of a magazine or book.
I’ve been in her room before, but never like this. Never with the intent to touch her, kiss her. I’ve never had impure thoughts about her either, and now they're running rampant through my mind. I walk into her room, my steps quieted by the plush carpet. My heart beats faster the closer I get to her bed. If she knows I’m here, she’s not calling me out. My knees brush the side of her bed, but she doesn’t stop moving her legs up and down. I want to reach out and make them stop, but I can’t.
I reach out and run my fingers down her back. Her legs still and she pushes aside her magazine. I don’t know what I’m doing, but this feels right. When I get to the hem of her shirt, I pull it up, showing more of her back. Her dark—as-night blue panties grab my attention. She scoots over on the bed, giving me space to sit next to her. Taking her cue, I kneel down and move her shirt up more. She moves away, sitting up on her knees. Her arms cross, her hands picking up her shirt and pulling it over her head.
Her breasts are bare. I don’t know where to look. My eyes travel from her eyes to her breasts and back. I want to touch her and think she wants me to as well, but what if she doesn’t? I had to lead up to this before and now everything is happening so fast and in the back of my mind I remind myself that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I want to touch her. Her eyes close when my fingers graze her nipple. It hardens against my fingertips. I touch the other one. She leans back, breaking our connection. I crawl over the top of her, touching her again. She opens her eyes when I settle in between her legs. Her smile is breathtaking, she wants this… me. Her fingertips travel up and down my back, pulling me closer. Our mouths are inches apart. Our foreheads rest against each other, lips touching lightly. She pushes on my ass, creating friction. I can’t hold back. I kiss her hard, not waiting for her to meet me halfway. My arm shakes from holding myself up. I’m afraid I weigh too much. My fingers roll over her nipple as she pushes me into her again. Her back arches as I kiss down her neck. I’ve been so afraid I wouldn’t know what to do, but my body knows. It knows how to make her feel good.
Taking her nipple in my mouth, I bite down lightly. Her hand flies to my hair and pulls, which feels good. I add more pressure and move my hips more, alleviating the pressure that’s building. She moans and I like it. I like knowing that I’m causing these reactions. She rolls us over, shocking me. I didn’t realize she was this strong. She straddles me, her mouth moving over my chest. She bites down on my nipple and now I know what it felt like and why she liked it so much. She moves down, kissing her way toward my hard-on. I reach out and grab her arm. I don’t think I’d be comfortable with her doing that. She sits up and grinds, adding pressure to my groin. I sit up, hell-bent on moving her, but she pushes harder and rocks, creating much needed friction.