Page 41 of All Your Firsts

I hold onto him for dear life as each grind turns into more of a thrust, each thrust more erratic, more urgent, and rougher thanthe last. He pushes me into the wall, making me moan louder at his rough handling of me and bringing me closer to ecstasy.

I grab the back of his head, wanting to get even closer to him. I’d be under his skin at this moment if I could.

“Look at me, baby,” Vic says breathlessly, the pet name doing strange things to my insides. “You want this. You want me. Look how you’re grinding against me. Look at how good we are together,” he says near my ear.

My eyes lock onto his as I moan again. This is the most vulnerable I’ve ever felt but also the most free.

“Tell me you want me,” he whispers in my ear as he kisses a trail along the side of my neck before biting down and sucking on the skin above my collarbone.

“I want you,” I plead as I hold him tighter. The wounds on my palms are a distant memory. I dig my nails into his back, needing more friction. My breathing becomes erratic the higher I climb. When a wildfire starts at the tips of my toes and works its way through my whole body, I cry out at the intense explosion that wracks me.

As I come down from my high, I open my eyes in shock. I just had my first orgasm ever given to me by someone else against a wall from just kissing and friction.

A couple more thrusts and he’s grunting his release and burying his head in my neck as he pants.

I remove my hands from his back that I’m sure are leaving indentions, if not blood. I caress his scalp, enjoying the way his hair feels between my fingers and the sense of calm it brings me. We stay like this for a while as our breathing evens out.

“I want to open my own art studio,” I whisper. “My father was never fond of the idea. He had a habit of ruining my paintings bythrowing them into the fire if I upset him in any way. That’s why I was working at the bar tonight, to save money for a studio. I want to create a place where children can freely express themselves through art, feeling safe and supported. The money you spoke of isn’t mine. I’ll die before asking my father or even Gage for a handout.”

I don’t know why I felt compelled to share my dream with him, but as soon as I do, he turns rigid. I realize it was a misstep.

Vic pulls away and looks into my eyes. “Fuck.”

“What?” I say as he lets me down onto my very shaky legs.

“Fuck. We just...” He steps back, and his disheveled shirt catches my eye, the collar stretched out from my forceful pull, and the unmistakable large damp spot on the front of his jeans. With a defeated sigh, he lowers his head into his hands and shakes it in disbelief. “Fuck. I have to go.”

“Wait, what’s the matter?” I hold my hand out to him, only for it to drop when he walks out my door without another word. I hear a door slam, and then his bike starts up before he peels out.

Ten

Vic

Rush,

Long time no talk. It’s a relief to know you didn’t encounter a bear or stumble into quicksand, preventing you from getting back to me.

I guess my first question is, why now? Why not months ago? Why not say something that night? And how do you know where I am now?

It’s a relief to know you’re still alive. Maybe I’ll talk to you again. MaybeI won’t.

-Rosie

“Who’s ready to lose their asses tonight?” Trey asks as he walks in with a blunt hanging from his lips.

“Confident words for someone who lost their Fat Boy last week,” Marcus mutters with a mocking smirk.

“I plan on getting her back tonight.”

“I’ll trade you for your V4R,” Marcus says.

“Fuck no! I love the Ducati.”

“You should stop betting your bikes, T, or you’ll soon have nothing left,” Julian interjects.

“The Fat Boy’s too clean for you, anyway. She’s mine, and I already changed her name,” Marcus gloats.

“Don’t you dare. Jae is the only name she goes by.”

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