Page 89 of Late Bloomer
I glide my fingers through her hair, rubbing soft circles against her scalp and temples. A small whoosh of breath leaves Opal’s lips and dances across my wrists, her eyes half-closed as I continue to work. After a few moments, I give the strands a gentle tug, a gasp pulled from Opal. The quiet sound echoes around us.
I work down her neck to her shoulders, kneading the tight muscles and pulling more sighs of comfort from her. She’s so pretty like this, face soft and surrendered. I trace gentle circles across the exposed skin of her arms, down to her palms, tickling my way back up. She smiles and giggles, goose bumps following my touch.
“That’s so nice,” she whispers on an exhale, eyes fully closed now.
Feeling dangerous, I let my fingers play, slipping under the straps of her tank top, massaging the soft juncture where her chest meets her shoulders. She hums in approval. My fingertips skim lower, a featherlight touch right where the swells of her breasts start, then veering to the side, tracing their curves without touching them. A shiver runs through her.
I drag my fingers back up, knuckles brushing the sensitive skin, and her eyes blink open, fixing on me with a glint. Encouraged, I repeat the circuit until I feel her breaths coming faster and harder beneath me, her chest moving in a jerky rhythm.
With a smile and a wink, I shift, kneeling between her legs, dragging my nails across the warm, soft skin of her parted thighs. I push the seam of her loose cotton shorts and underwear to the side and lean closer, but Opal’s hand shoots out, resting on my cheek.
I glance up, seeing her eyes wide and brows crinkled. “What’s wrong?” I ask, nuzzling into her palm.
Opal’s pupils are blown, nostrils flaring with her rapid breathing while color rushes to her full cheeks. “I… Fuck. I, uh, really want this…”
After a pause, I grip her thigh with a bit more pressure. “But?” I prompt.
Opal screws up her face. “I’m hot and sweaty,” she says, voice a high squeak. “And I don’t want you to be grossed out.”
I tuck my lips into my mouth, trying not to smile at how absolutely absurd the idea is. I let my gaze lock with hers for a beat longer before taking a slow, leisurely traipse across her face, memorizing the slopes of her cheeks, the lines of her throat, the curves of her shoulders.
I take my time at the swells of her breasts, the way I can see her heart thumping against her chest. With limited self-control left, my eyes skirt down her torso to her hips, then I look between her thighs and lick my lips.
“Opal?”
“Yeah?” she says, voice hesitant. Heartbreakingly shaky.
I look up at her face again. “You’re fucking perfect.”
Then I lean forward and kiss her to show her just how much I mean it.
I take my time with her tonight, teasing and gentle.
I can’t wait,she whispers when the pleasure builds, but I pull away, gentling the tip of my tongue against her in a barely there touch. A delicious torture.
Yes you can, I say against her skin. Her hands grip my hair as a moan breaks from her throat, but my sweet girl endures.
I touch myself as I continue to work her, telling her how beautiful she is. How cute and charming and outrageously wonderful, smiling like an absolute fool at the joy of it all.
When I focus in, letting Opal tip over the edge, she gigglesas she comes, her laughter knitting together the delicate, frayed edges of my open wounds.
I crawl back up her body, kissing in reverence until I get to her lips. She presses her mouth to mine, pulling me down on top of her, holding me close. Her kisses are lazy and slow as we both come back to earth. Eventually, I roll to my side, tucking her close, and it isn’t long until her breathing evens out, heavy with sleep as the cicadas sing around us.
And right here, right now—under a great big sky, surrounded by flowers and wrapped in the arms of the girl I’m falling for—I know there’s no place more special in the world.
Chapter 30OPAL
The Grove Park Inn stands in front of us like the final boss in a video game: broad and imposing, its redbrick roof glowing in the afternoon sun. I swallow down the lump of nerves in my throat.
“Ready?” I whisper to Pepper, eyes fixed on the giant building.
“No.”
I stare at it for another minute, anxiety zipping up my arms. All competing teams were given a complimentary room at the Grove Park Inn for the night before the competition, and it’s a shame I won’t be able to get any sleep in the bougie-ass beds due to my inevitable panic spiral over tomorrow.
“Ready?” I whisper again.
“Yeah,” she says, voice cracking. She leads us inside.
