Page 50 of Unraveling with You

I’m struggling to catch my breath. “I don’t want to enjoy myself without you— unless— unless you don’t want to either, but—”

His tip has leaked so much precum that I can see the pool of it spreading through his black pants.

“Do you mean you’d like to use your hands on me?” Remington asks.

“No, I really want you inside me, i-if you’d like to be.”

He stares at me for a moment before letting out a hard breath. “Oh, I’d love to be. Do you have a condom in your drawer I can grab? Otherwise, I’d have to escape your clutches to get mine in my jacket.”

I laugh, realizing I’m gripping Remington’s shoulders so hard that my fingertips are white. Releasing him, I collapse back into the comforter with a shaky laugh. “S-sorry. And I do have condoms if you want, but I—”

I swallow hard. Remington’s eyebrows raise, awaiting my next words.

“I know you like sentimental things, and maybe this won’t seem like a big deal to you, but it is for me. When I said I only use condoms during sex, I meant with everyone else. I don’t usually tell guys I have an IUD because I know they'll try to convince me to be bare inside me when I don’t want them to be, b-but with you, I— I’d like it. Love it.”

He’s motionless for a full ten seconds, leaving my heart to pound wildly. When he speaks again, his voice is raspy. “L.L.B., that’s a big,biggift you’re offering me. Are you sure?”

“Yes, very. I really do love you, and I want you to feel it.”

Emotions crease his eyebrows. “You really touch my heart. I’m sorry, I-” He swipes over his eyes.

I cup his cheeks, so worried about him that my heart aches with his shaking breath.

But Remington gives a soft, wet laugh. “I’m okay. I just really love you too. I love you so much.”

Remington dissolves back into tears, pulling a pained whimper from my chest. I place my hand over his heart, dying to protect it.

“Breathe with me,” I whisper.

We stare at each other, the only sound our anxious breaths. But the more we relax our bodies into each other, the slower our breaths melt. Tilting my head, I leave my open lips gaping over his, intentionally inhaling his air. Remington’s shoulders rise as he draws me in, softly placing his lips against mine until we exchange breaths almost solely from each other’s lungs.

I don’t know what compelled me to start this, or why, but the desperation in his hands tells me Remington must feel the same; there’s a tender intimacy in sharing our life force that I’ve never experienced.

A tremendous ache grows in my chest, yearning to feel Remington all over - until I can’t take it. My lips collapse into his, and Remington softly moans, flipping my heart. He cuddles me so tightly that when he kisses me twice as hard, wetness gushes between my legs. I spread my knees for him, bucking to rub up on him.

Remington breaks our kiss with a sharp breath. “Can I take the rest of your clothes off for you, baby? If it’s too scary, I understand.”

Cupping his cheeks, I huff through my speeding heartbeat. “It’s scary, but I want to feel you against me. I’ve– I’ve never shown anyone my back, either. I always keep it hidden against the mattress.”

“Fuck,” Remington breathes as he sits back. “How did I get so lucky then?”

I pull my arms and knees in, feeling shy without anything covering my bottom half. “Because I– I love you.”

He smiles. “I love you too, baby girl. Are you shy about anything other than your back?”

I bite my lip. “I think my boobs look too heavy. I feel like guys haven’t expected them to hang so much.”

“Then, do you trust me not to judge you if you sit up for me while I lift your shirt over your head?”

I can hardly breathe. But I sit up. “Yes.”

After flipping his shirt over his head, Remington scoots closer on his knees. I gape; his neck tattoo doesn’t start at his chest. It starts below his waistband, drawing a thick line up his stomach and sternum until it explodes in beautiful, fiery geometry over his chest and throat, a collection of different patterns I’m dying to memorize. I run my shaking fingers down that center line, leaning into his touch as his palms caress my sides, rolling the base of my shirt. I shiver, meeting his eyes - just before I have to lift my arms.

I tense with nerves. I trust him not to judge my breasts, but I still judge them.

Remington makes quick work of stripping my top, flipping it over my head like ripping off a band-aid. As my breasts droop from their support, I hold my breath. I’m kneeling on the mattress in front of him, fully naked.

But Remington’s shaft visibly twitches in his pants. I loosen my shoulders, struggling to process it. Is he really that turned on by my bare body?

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