“That was amazing,” he whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”
I agreed; the couch had seen far too much already. It only took a second to get into his room, and then I let him climb into bed first. There was something he needed to see. I hooked my thumbs around the waistband of my Cartoon Network pajama bottoms like a stripper, turned around, and slowly bent over as I slid them down to my ankles. His intake of breath said that I’d done it right.
Thank Odin I’d thought to put on one of the silky thongs from our shopping trip this morning. He hopped out of bed too, but only for a second. I squealed as he picked me up and tossed me onto the pillows. He moved back onto the bed, resting back on his heels between my legs.
“Madison…” he trailed off as he stared at me. It was a pivotal moment. I was never, ever going to be the kind of girl who spent her time wondering what a guy was going to think of what she wore, or looked like, or did. But in that moment, seeing the way he reacted—well, I became the kind of girl who would always spend good money on fancy undies. And then, when it was his head that lowered with my hand tentatively resting on it, well.
Well.
I could never draw the things he did to me down there. I’d be arrested for indecency. Luckily, I can still say them. I had thought Marc was a good kisser. Then I thought those things translated to my breasts. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for what came next.
Day-old stubble rubbed against my inner thighs. The sensation was half sexy and half painful—was this why movies like Fifty existed to begin with? It made sense now.
He leaned in and I held my breath. I had spent so much time imagining this moment. And it was about to happen. Thank god Marc was a giver, I just couldn’t have lived in a world where he didn’t reciprocate. He kissed the inside of my thigh, and then the other, and then that soft, delicate crease where my thigh and mound met. I waited, still breathless, at the possibility of what this would feel like, how it would live up to my fantasies.
Everything hinged on the next ten seconds. My faith in humanity. Whether fairy tales were true. Unicorns. Fairy dust. Multiple orgasms.
Imagine my joy when all of the above came to life and sprinkled glitter around. Metaphorically, of course. But when the heat of his breath hit that crazy sensitive spot right on the tip of my clit that peeked out from my lower lips—I convulsed. He was everything I hoped he would be and more. His tongue swiped up the scrap of silk covering my sex. It pulled some up, so that I felt the drag of him licking me on either side of the fabric even as the silk tugged on my clit.
It had never occurred to me that romance books weren’t full of hyperbole. So when I actually screamed, not just a really loud moan, but a high-pitched scream… My second orgasm of the night was stifled by his hand, as his mouth covered my entire pussy.
Weirdly, even though I was the one who was coming down from her second orgasm, Marc was the one who couldn’t seem to control himself. He all but ripped off the underwear he’d thankfully paid for. I lay before him, completely bare. Even though I’d been in this position before, somehow I felt both more and less naked than I’d ever been. More, because I’d never been quite as at the mercy of anyone else. Less, because it still didn’t feel uncomfortable. Something about me and my roomie just seemed right.
Luckily, orgasming twice so quickly numbed me a little bit to his ministrations, otherwise I probably would have fainted when he licked me up and down as slowly as possible. The tip of his tongue rolled around my clit.
I couldn’t catch my breath; the sensations kept rolling through me like thunder.
First he’d flick me gently with the very tip of his tongue, then he’d swipe me with the flat of it. Just when I thought I couldn’t handle the varying pressures any more, he thrust two fingers deep inside me.
The shock was quickly overwhelmed by the pleasure. Instead of moving out and in, he moved his fingers over and over each other, almost vibrating inside me.
It wasn’t until my whole body was vibrating that he started to slowly push his fingers in and out. All the while, he carefully tongued me. It took several excruciatingly delicious moments, but I came for him again. As the aftershocks racked my body, he scooted up to cradle me through them.
“I…” he trailed off. I knew what he meant though, cause me…
“Yeah,” I agreed, breathless.
It didn’t take long for him to find the condom this time, and obviously no one was going to risk me killing the mood trying to fumble it on. In no time flat, I could feel the nudge of Marc’s cock at my center. I was too wet to keep him waiting, but neither of us pushed. He just slowly moved forward, and I slowly rocked back against him, and every inch that entered me felt like heaven.
When he was filling me completely, we both took a deep breath, then he slid all the way out.
“Yeah?” he asked again.
“Yeah,” I said, and he thrust back into me in one hard motion. Ho. Ly. Cats.
Once we started in earnest, it was really hard to hold back. This had been so long in coming, that—well, it didn’t take too long in the coming, so to speak. I clung onto Marc like he was my lifeboat in the motion-y ocean we were in, and he pushed in and out of me faster and faster. His groans sent me closer and closer, and when he finally whispered “oh god” in my ear, that was all it took and my entire body pulsed with the force of the orgasm that had me screaming his name.
He stayed inside me, breathing hard and holding me close, until we both found our equilibrium again, then he slowly slid out. It tickled just a little, and left me feeling like a puzzle piece I hadn’t known about was now gone.
I shivered, but not because I was cold. Although, it wasn’t as warm without Marc’s heat on top and all around me. It was more of a delicious shiver, counting up all the times he gave me the highest pleasure and comparing them to all the lackluster times before.
So this was what I’d been missing.
Twelve
Waking up in Marc’s bed was a very different story this time around. For one thing, there was no hangover. For another, there was no question at all of what had happened the night before: I had officially gotten laid.
Not just laid, I’d gotten thoroughly banged six ways from Sunday. If all the waiting and accidents and interruptions had led to that—well, it had been worth all the mishaps. I gazed over at Marc, and the pink mark on his forehead still healing from the recent stitches. Most of the mishaps, I amended. The entire emergency visit in a bra thing was being omitted from all future versions of this story.