Page 73 of Yours, Unexpectedly

Her eyes widen innocently. “You give them something else to do?”

“I’ll give that fucking mouth something else to do.” I lift her off of me, placing her on her knees next to the bed. “Hands behind your back.”

She complies while I hop off the bed and strip out of my clothes, watching as her eyes devour every inch of my body. She shows the desire she feels so plainly, unashamed of what we are doing together. I step up next to her, gripping her chin and running my thumb over her bottom lip.

“Open up,” I command, her mouth popping open and her pretty pink tongue laying flat and ready for me. I feed my cock into her mouth, almost completely blowing my load the second she moans around me.

“Shit, baby. Yes.” My thoughts come out in an incoherent jumble as she takes me as deep as she can before pulling back, hollowing out her cheeks in the process. Bex repeats this maybe five or six times, using her tongue in ways I’ve never felt before. I’m incredibly close to coming right down her throat, but that’s not what I want tonight.

“Baby, look at me.” Her eyes immediately snap to mine, watering as she continues to suck me down. “You’re such a good girl, but I’m going to come.”

She nods eagerly, continuing her movements, and I can’t help but chuckle. “No, baby. I want to come inside you and—dammit, if you keep doing that I won’t be able to.”

I stop her by pulling my hips back far enough that she can’t reach anymore. I get down on my knees too, so we are closer to eye level and pull her in for a deep kiss on her swollen lips.

“That was… so fucking good, baby. I’m hard as a fucking rock because of you. But I want to make you feel good too. Are you wet for me?” I twist a curl around my finger as she nods. “Can I feel?”

“Yes, please,” she replies—by now we’ve long established that I always want her words. I pat the bed and she hops up, our positions reversed so she’s sitting on the bed while I kneel in front of her. I trace the hem of her leggings before pulling them completely off.

“Spread these legs for me. Let me see you.” And when she does, her pussy is glistening for me—I can’t help but lean in and lick straight up her middle. Her answering groan tells me that she doesn’t mind.

I take my time enjoying my dessert, spurred on by the little noises Bex makes. I’ve learned that sometimes she needs encouragement to feel everything I want to give. She can get overstimulated so I’ve asked her to be direct about what feels good which has been helpful. I want her to enjoy this as much as I do.

When I’ve pulled a delicious orgasm out with my tongue, I slip a condom on and crawl up over her, peppering her gorgeously curvy body with kisses, nibbles, and licks. When I get to her face, I lean back and take a moment just to soak her in. She’s got a fallen curl that I brush back while her eyes search mine.

I’m so close to telling her. Saying exactly what’s been on my mind all night. But I don’t—I can’t, yet. Instead, we slowly rock together, bringing each other to the precipice and then crashing down, one right after the other.

And it feels a whole lot like making love.

“Did you know that they used to call sex ‘horizontal refreshment’ in the nineteenth century?” Riz asks.

“Why the hell is that something that I would know?”

“It’s not. But it is my segue…”

I roll my eyes. “No, I'm not having sex with Jack yet. I will soon. Probably. Maybe… Trust me, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I better be,” she laughs. “But it’s also okay if you never want to do that with Jack, okay?”

“Okay, Riz.”

A few days later, my period makes its monthly appearance. I truly envy girls who don’t have to slow down once a month, because I am not one of those girls. Mine usually knocks me out for a few days at least. I exist only on macaroni and cheese and Tylenol, which, sure… is not the most healthy diet, but I would argue it’s what my body needs.

I’m still in this weird in between with Anders. Technically, we are a couple, and I feel very couple-y things toward him, but I also have been wanting this to happen for so long that it doesn’t feel real. And he’s been super busy preparing for his MFA showcase—a performance that all graduating acting students put on in the hopes of signing with agents or managers—so I haven’t wanted to bug him.

It can be hard not to feel like I’m too much, sometimes.

It never fails though, when my thoughts start spiraling like that, I’ll get a text from him that sends my heart soaring.

Anders

Miss you.

How are you feeling? Have enough mac and cheese?

I thought I’d swing by after rehearsal if you’re okay with that. I can bring anything you need!

He also is a serial texter, thoughts usually sent in rapid fire as though they come into his mind and he immediately types them out and hits send. I watch the dots pop up and down a few more times, waiting to see if he has anything else to say, before I respond. I try to make it seem like I’m not super eager, even though that’s a total lie.

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