Page 62 of Saving Barrette

His eyes search mine, cheeks flushed, breathing barely controlled. Here’s an athlete in pristine condition and I make him breathless. Me!

Asa pauses, his mouth an inch from my right breast he’s holding in his hand. He’s asking, silently waiting for me to tell him it’s all right.

I blink slowly and coax his head forward with the slightest pressure on the back of his head, my unspoken consent. Tentatively, his lips brush the puckered hardness of my breast. It’s everything, and so much more. My hips halt, my entire body bursting into flames. If he wasn’t holding onto me, I would swear I’m floating. As cheesy as that sounds. And then he parts his lips, his tongue darting out. The wetness, the heat… I moan at the intense rush that floods through me, my eyes rolling back, my spine arching and my fingers digging into his hair. His tongue flicks across the hard nipple. My panties are drenched, a slickness suddenly allowing me to grind against him with ease.

He closes his mouth around the pebbled skin and then he sucks, and I can’t look. I squeeze my eyes shut, throw my head back, and hump him. His hands drop from my breasts to my hips, coaxing me along and driving my movements. Sliding me against his length, he lifts his hips to meet mine while never parting his mouth from my chest. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before, yet familiar because everything he gives me, the friction between my legs, his hot tongue swirling and sucking, it rushes up on me and before I know it, my orgasm explodes out of nowhere.

I cling to him, gripping his hair between my fingers and forget all about any boundaries, where we are, everything. I scream out, louder than ever before, and if someone had been listening outside my door, they would have known exactly what was happening in here.

Suddenly, Asa grips my hips, his mouth moving from my chest and halts my movements. “Fuck,” he groans, his words shaking. “I’m gonna come. Stop.” And then he lifts my hips up, breaking our connection.

I pant against his ear, unable to control my breathing. Part of me wants to see him come. So on the edge he can’t stop from coming in his jeans. Yes, please. I’d like to see that. I don’t say that, but I do let out a little giggle and then slap my hand over my tomato-red face. He doesn’t find much humor in it, his eyes heavy-lidded as he flops himself back on my bed, his chest rising and falling quickly.

I watch him, the flickering of the movie reflected in his eyes. I slide my stare lower to the barely concealed strain against the denim. Reaching out, I touch him there. His eyes flutter closed. I trace the button of his jeans, slowly, then unbutton them. I unzip and push them open. Carefully I begin to lower his jeans and boxers, but Asa stops me and sits up. He takes my hands in his. “We need to slow down.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “Why?”

“Because,” he sighs, “your therapist was right. We should talk about what makes you uncomfortable.”

I move to sit in front of him. “Nothing you’ve done so far makes me uncomfortable.”

He nods, his breathing slow, but then his hands find his hair. “I don’t think that’s entirely true.”

I shake my head even though I know what he’s talking about. The night I told him harder, and he reluctantly gave me what I wanted. I don’t answer, and he groans, reading the emotions on my face. “That’s what I’m talking about. I see it on your face. You have to tell me because we can’t do anything until I know everything that bothers you.”

He waits for me to respond, his eyes anxious when I don’t say anything.

“Tell me,” he begs.

It hits me then. Since I told him what the therapist said, I bet he just spent the last fifteen minutes obsessing over it and finding a way to let me down that we weren’t having sex tonight. I chew on my lip and try to recall that night and what set me off. “It’s not what you did… I think it just sort of surfaced out of nowhere if that makes sense.”

He stares at me. “No, not really.”

“Okay.” I draw in a careful breath, seeing he’s frustrated with me. “How about this? If anything you do makes me uncomfortable, I’ll tell you right away and we stop.”

He nods, unconvinced but nodding nonetheless.

I can see his mood has changed and tears surface. “Asa, come on. Believe me.”

“I do.” His words come out strangled. My eyes dart to his, and I see his are glassy, wavering. “I will never be rough with you. I just can’t. Ever.”

Feeling like I’ve won, I nod and crawl on his lap. I nibble on his jaw and straddle him again. He gave me an out and I’m not taking it. I know what I want.

He sighs, his head tipping back to reveal his neck. I take full advantage and reach between us, my hand slipping inside his boxers to see he’s still hard and ready. “You’re not helping,” he growls, bringing his mouth to mine.

“That’s my plan. I’m looking to sack the quarterback, and I think I just broke through his offensive line.”

That gets him. “Fuck it,” he mumbles, and I’m on my back in one quick movement and he’s hovering above me. My panties come off first, then his jeans pushed down just enough for him to enter me. I stretch around him, spreading my legs wider to drive him deeper inside. He lifts up, watching my reaction. “I love you,” he pants, his brows drawn together in concentration. “I love youso fucking much.”

“I love you,” I tell him, over and over again, clutching him to my body. He brings his chest to mine, pushing into me a little harder, but still, careful. He slows his pace and kisses me. The weight of his athletic body pressing to mine, the dewy warmth of his skin, it sends my heart kicking wildly against my breastbone.

Digging my heels into the mattress, I shift my hips, feeling the euphoric shift between us, two lovers tangled together. Threading my fingers through his hair, I yank. The harder I yank, the harder his thrusts come. Okay, so no rough for me but I can basically pull his hair, and he digs it. Weird. Sinking my nails into his back, his pace quickens, his hand gripping my waist, my butt, the sheets, anywhere he can grasp something. Pride swells in my chest. We’re making progress.

He breaks our kiss long enough to whisper another “I love you,” and then he buries his face in my neck, wrapping his arms around my torso. I grasp his face with both my hands, wanting him to look at me when he comes. With two more thrusts, he stills, pouring himself into me.

I sigh in relief, the weight of him heavy, but exactly what I want. While our breathing slows, I run my fingers up and down his back, giggling.

He rolls off me. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d have a complex that you’re laughing.”

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