Page 48 of Dearly Unbeloved
“I didn’t say that,” she replies, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Her underwear has to go. It’s in my way, and if she doesn’t want me to slow down, I’m done with waiting. I pull it down her legs and throw it away, spreading her thighs and sighing happily as I kneel between them.
If her surprised yelp is anything to go by, she doesn’t expect me to dive right in, but it quickly turns to a moan as I run my tongue through her folds. Already, I feel a little drunk on her.
If I’d known she tasted like this, if I’d known how high I could get on the little sighs and whimpers she sings, we could have gotten along better earlier. I’m not above casual sex, and, sure, sleeping with your roommate isn’t known for working out well, but it’s not like we would’ve been risking a friendship. What a waste of a year, when I could’ve been making her come over and over and over and?—
“Rose,” she cries, as I press my tongue inside her. Ineed her closer. My face is pressed right against her pussy, but it’s not enough. I need more.
She protests when I pull back, sitting up and spluttering. “Where are you going?”
I don’t answer right away, instead stripping my clothes off, piece by piece, as she watches me hungrily. I climb up onto the bed and lie down with my head on the pillows. “Get up here.”
“What?”
“Sit,” I order, pointing to my face, and Sierra’s eyes go comically wide.
“Absolutely not. I’ll crush you!”
“Fuck, that sounds amazing.” Yet another inside thought slips out, but I don’t mind, because Sierra’s lips part and her cheeks flush scarlet.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says softly.
One thing I didn’t expect about Sierra was her lack of confidence in her own body. I should have.I’mobsessed with her body, and since when do Sierra and I ever see eye to eye on anything? I’m going to make her see it, though.
“Do you trust me?” I ask.
Sierra tilts her head, chewing her lip. “Somehow, against my better judgment, yes.”
“Good. Because this”—I point between us—“is only going to work if we trust each other. I trust you to use your safe words if you need to stop or slow down, or if you just don’t like something. And I need you to trust me to do the same.”
“Ugh. When you say it like that…” Sierra pouts as she kneels on the bed, crawling over to me. She hesitates, so I reach up and grab her chin, gently.
“Do you want me to beg? Do you want me to tell you how I’ve been thinking about this for hours, weeks, hell,a year? Because I will, if that’s what you need. I’ll describe in detail all the dreams I’ve had about you sitting on my face, falling to pieces on top of me, since the second I laid eyes on you. I can tell you just how many times I got myself off thinking of this exact moment, if it’ll make you realize how badly I want this.”
Sierra sucks in a breath, still as a statue, before sitting up on her knees and sidling closer to me. She pauses. “Do you actually keep a record of the things you think about when you’re getting off? Because it seems like the kind of thing you’d do, so I can’t tell if you actually know the number or if that’s just a line.”
I roll my eyes. “I have a journal. It’s not an exhaustive list, but I write about it sometimes.”
“Interesting… Can I read it?”
I furrow my brow. “No. Now, are you going to get up here and ride my face, or what?”
Nerves flicker across Sierra’s features, but she nods. “Okay. Do you want me facing the headboard, or away?”
“Away.” I have no preference, but I suspect facing away from me will be easier for her.
Sierra takes a deep breath and swings her leg over me until she’s straddling my face. My mouth waters, desperate to get all over her, but she hovers above me.
“Sit,” I say, grasping her hips. I don’t pull her down. I want her to feel comfortable enough to do it herself.
“But I?—”
“Trust, remember?”
She releases an anxious whinny. “But what if you can’t tell me to stop because I’m on top of you?”
“If I need you to stop and can’t talk, I’ll slap your thigh twice. But it’s not going to happen, okay?”
