LoveLines

And I closed my mouth.

 

He disrobed me, piece by piece. Painfully slow. Painfully exposed. My face burned. My eyes darted all around. All I could think of was our neighbors.

 

“You have a privacy fence,” he said softly. “All around.”

 

“But Soledad,” I replied, watching him pull down my cotton shorts.

 

“She can’t see. Trust me.”

 

“But she can hear,” I said.

 

“Then I guess you’ll just have to learn how to be quiet,” Reece replied. “Now, let’s talk about this no panty thing you’ve got going on. You do that a lot?”

 

“When I wear these particular shorts,” I explained.

 

He grunted. It was that sexual grunt he made when he was working hard to suppress something. What, I didn’t know. I didn’t want to know. It sounded like it would hurt.

 

“Well, I’m diggin’ it. Hard,” he said.

 

He stood back and observed me. I was stark naked, and my instinct was to place an arm over my breasts and a hand over my . . .

 

“That * of yours,” Reece said, licking his lips.

 

I covered it.

 

“Move your hand.”

 

I shook my head. “Why don’t we take this inside?”

 

“Fat chance. Move your hand.”

 

“I’m naked outside, Reece!” I hissed. “I’m feeling very uncomfortable right now!”

 

“Would it help if I joined you?” he asked, stripping faster than I’d ever seen him strip.

 

“And now you’re naked!” I cried. “I don’t think this is the best idea—”

 

He came at me and kissed me hard, shutting me up, telling me he wanted me here and now. We collapsed on the ground together, and he rolled on top of me, spreading my legs with his knees while his mouth went to my neck. I squirmed under him, feeling the short blades of grass prick my skin.

 

“No, Bailey. Let me love you,” Reece breathed, and I decided right there—right in the middle of our back yard, naked and vulnerable—to trust him.

 

I let go.

 

He kissed down my neck to my breasts. He ravaged them, tugging hard on my nipples with his teeth. The intensity was too much, and I moaned into the night air. I clapped a hand over my mouth, and he moved it. He trapped my hands on either side of my hips while he continued his assault on my breasts, and I bit my lower lip hard to keep from crying out. I didn’t fight him, though. I didn’t want to. The pleasure explosion was already building in my abdomen, and he hadn’t yet touched me between my legs.

 

He rolled onto his back suddenly.

 

“Sit on my face,” he said.

 

I didn’t argue, but I was hesitant.

 

“Sit on my face, Bailey,” he said again.

 

I obeyed and climbed on top of him, straddling his head. It’s not the easiest position without a headboard. I had to hold my weight up by the strength in my thighs. There was no way I could come like this. This position was purely for him.

 

I sank down on him slowly and felt him moan against my *. He held my ass, easing the pressure on my legs a little as his tongue plunged deep inside. I moaned again, this time completely oblivious to the existence of neighbors.

 

He drank me in like a starving man, then rolled me over, pinning me to the ground with his swollen muscles. He was neither gentle nor forceful. His body simply said, “I’m coming inside,” and he slipped right in. No permission asked. He trapped my face in his hands as he thrust, long and slow, paying homage to me. Thanking me. Honoring me. It was all of those things, and it went on and on, driving deep into the secret night.

 

“I wanna see all of you,” he said, his voice ragged.

 

He rolled over again, pulling me on top of him, and my hands went to his chest for support.

 

“Grind on me,” he ordered.

 

I moved my hips in small, circular motions, reveling in the feel of little flames licking my inner thighs. He groaned and placed his hands behind his head, allowing me total control.

 

“I want you to get off on me,” he said. “I want you to use me.”

 

My body had already decided the kind of orgasm this would be: slow and sensual. I felt it coming. No hard pops. No jarring explosions to bang about in my stomach and legs. Just soft starbursts going off one by one, tickling my feet and legs and the swollen folds of my drenched *. I wouldn’t need to scream. I thought absurdly that I might laugh instead.

 

“Go on,” Reece urged. “Get yourself off.”

 

I went to work, finding a rhythm my body liked. I gave no thought to him, if it felt good for him, if he felt anything at all, really, since I wasn’t stroking his cock. Not that much, anyway. I just ground my hips on him, nestling him deeper inside, as my finger went to my clit for further stimulation.

 

He watched, absorbed, as I rubbed myself, mewling and writhing in complete abandon. It was hard for me to make love like this in the past—so exposed. Body. Heart. Mind. Opened wide and inviting. I was self-conscious then, believing I didn’t measure up because my mental condition convinced me I was broken. But this man under me saw someone wholly alive—a beautiful, sexual being who craved acceptance. Who deserved it. And that was why his hands went behind his head. He didn’t want to give it to me. He wanted me to take what was mine—the acceptance and love I deserved.

 

The stars burst. One by one. I moved my hips in a delicious celestial explosion. Pop! Pop! Pop! Fireworks going off signaling a celebration. Our celebration. A ring. A promise. A hope. And a future.

 

I collapsed on him. I let him roll me over a final time, carefully, never breaking our union. I knew what he wanted, and while I was spent, I would never deny him. How could I when he was so sweet? So patient and selfless? He moved in me, and I cried out. He let me cry. For minutes and minutes longer he let me cry and scream as he took his own pleasure from my sensitive body, thrusting hard and deep. Right to my core—the crux of who I was. He stole it, released himself inside of me, and gave it back.

 

***

 

My eyes flew open at the sound of the ring. Normally I turn off my alerts before bed, but tonight I forgot. I slapped my hand around the nightstand until I located the phone, answering with a groggy voice.

 

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