Page 29 of The First Kind of Love
“How to touch you,” I eventually finish.
She lets out a small giggle—one that I shouldn’t love the sound of so much, and one that wrings pleasure from every inch of my body. “I can show you, but you’re doing a pretty good job of it yourself.”
Suddenly, she slides my hands down to her ass, and the gusset of her swimsuit rides up enough to expose a portion of her perky cheeks, imploring me to mold them into my own playthings.
Oh, fuck.
“But I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do,” she quickly rushes out.
I grab her butt with enough force to make her body lurch, letting her feel just how aroused I am from the simple proximity alone. My engorged cock pokes into her belly, and I elicit a moan from her loud enough to justify a noise complaint.
“Trust me, Shi, this is theonlything I want to do.”
Her eyes stray down to the…problem…standing between us, and for the first time since she initiated this sexual escapade, concern hardens the hinge of her jaw. “You feel…”
“Good? Bad?”
“Big.”
I—oh. What am I supposed to say to that?
Heat shoots up the back of my neck, drenching me in a film of sweat that’s about to be a lot more noticeable in a few minutes. “Right. Um, we don’t have to go any further. I’m good with just kissing. I love just kissing.”
“Sorry,” she backtracks, scraping her bottom lip betweenher teeth. “I didn’t mean it like a bad thing. I’m just…not sure if I’m ready for that right now.”
And suddenly, the nerves and the anxiety and the doubt all get sucked out of my head by an invisible force, leaving me with the raw realization that no matter how the night ends, I want to spend my time pleasuring the girl who’s done nothing but reassure me this entire trip.
“We can stop,” I tell her. “We can order room service and stay in. You can pick a movie, or we can go for a walk, or we can really do whatever you?—”
I’m so distracted with yapping her ear off that I don’t even realize the movement of her nimble fingers before it’s too late. She slowly lowers her bathing suit straps—revealing the goose bumps that pepper her now-bare chest—and I drag my gaze down her body until I reach the sliver of space just below her navel where the fabric bunches. I think my brain’s malfunctioning.
I’ve seen some pairs of tits in my time, alright? In the occasionalPlayboymagazine, during that one awkward episode ofBridgertonwhen my mom was in the room, even when I was flashed by some die-hard fans after an exhilarating game. But none of those boobs were as perfect as Shiloh’s. I can’t help the way my mouth waters like it’s some Pavlovian response, and the sight of her hardened nipples sends a goddamn signal to inflate my dick even more.
Her throat works with a swallow. “Is it okay if we?—”
“Yes. A thousand times yes.”
Before she can overthink her next response, I grab Shiloh by the underside of her thighs, hoist her onto my hips, and carry her to the opposite side of the room where the ceiling-tall window overlooks the balcony. She clings to me, drilling her fingernails into my back with a smarting sting that doesn’t come anywhere close to offsetting the pain in my balls. I’m running on primal adrenaline at this point, and some newlyawakened part of me needs her up against the window while I have my fill of her.
“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” she quips, her spine arching against the glass.
Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I haven’t done extensive research on the topic at hand. In the delirious hope of experiencing sex for the first time, I felt like there were certain things I needed to know. How sensitive the clit is, how crucial foreplay is, how important it is to communicate and set boundaries in the bedroom. Let’s just say I spent an embarrassingly long time on Quora asking questions that have since been erased from my internet search history. It also helps that my teammates were more than willing to divulge their own sexual experiences.
Laughter plumes from my lips, but it’s slowly swallowed up by another mind-spinning, knee-buckling kiss, strong enough to warrant one of my hands shooting out to bracket the side of her head. She hikes her leg up and drapes it over my waist, eagerly chasing my tongue with hers, then granting me a genuine, keening moan that flies up from the depths of her gut.
“I’m sure. I’ve never wanted to be with anyone beside you.”
I leave out the part where my imagination’s delusionally Velcroed the two of us together for the past four years, so I haven’t evenlookedat another girl since her. That’s…that’s laying it on thick.
I experiment with tracing the outline of her breasts, and when she consents and boasts them to me, I squeeze the mound of her tit with my free hand. I’m nearly sundered by a hurricane of possessiveness by her half-open mouth, fluttering eyelids, and a tightening of her abdominal muscles that tells me she’s just as sexually charged as I am. Then I swirl the pad of my thumb over her nipple, gauging her willingness before deciding to flick a nail over the tiny erogenous zone.
“Oh, fuck,” she whispers, rutting her hips into my crotch as her fingernails bear down on my shoulders, hard.
I tend to her bud with twice the speed, the added obstacle of her grinding into me enough to make me black out. She’s taking a hot knife to my senses, and they’re separating like melted butter under a searing blade.
“Tell me what you need from me.”
The sexiest whimper rumbles in her chest, and she—albeit contemplatively—leads my hand from her breast down the slender length of her stomach, then trails it below the hood of her clit where I’m greeted by the damp gusset of her swimwear.
