Page 67 of Falling Slowly
I could hardly believe she’d spoken those words. “You’d have sex just to make room for my cock, Bess? That’s very accommodating, but seriously.”
Her voice was both breathy and amused as her fingers worked to unfasten my jeans button. “It might be the only way we survive the night. So, do you have protection?”
It was a tough question, because if I admitted to having a condom on me, which I did, I’d also admit to premeditating the strange situation we were in. And I hadn’t. Not really.
“If I tell you I have a condom in my back pocket, are you going to judge me? I only keep it on me because I’m an eternal optimist. I wasn’t expecting anything, I swear.”
“If you’d planned for this, you would’ve ordered a bigger hammock, right? With fairy lights and mirrors, like an insulated sex swing.”
I could hear the smile in her voice before I felt her shake with laughter. She could make fun of me all she wanted if it meant she was no longer terrified. Or mad at me.
“I need that thing. Where can I get it? Does it come with built-in speakers?”
“I’m sure someone somewhere will sell it for half a million dollars.”
“Buy. Now.”
She hiccupped with laughter and happiness radiated through my chest. “I guess we’ll have to make this one into a sex swing.” She dragged her hand across my pulsating crotch, her body pressing against my side.
With every touch of her hand, I got harder and the jeans became more uncomfortable. “You need to stop stroking me, unless you’re ready to face the consequences,” I warned, pushing her hand away.
“Where’s the condom, Charlie?” She snaked her hand around me, trying to reach into my back pocket.
I used the opportunity to grab her hips and bring her directly on top of me. We lined up perfectly, her soft body molded against mine. I helped her out of her jacket, then slid my hands under her woolen layers, relishing the feel of bare skin against my fingers. For a moment, the awkwardness of being pushed together in a cramped space disappeared. We were just two people lying on top of each other, enclosed by darkness, desperate to get closer.
When she unzipped my jeans, I froze. I couldn’t go back on my word, even if this counted as an emergency, in every sense of the word.
“Wait!” I fought the words out against my will. “I told you—If we do this, it means something, Bess. Tell me this is not casual.” My voice rang with desperation.
“There’s nothing casual about trying to survive in freezing temperatures,” she joked, but I could hear the sadness. The uncertainty.
“Bess. You know what I mean.”
I’d never feared silence as much as I feared the seconds stretching between us. The longer she took to give me an answer, the more my stomach twisted.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Bess
My hands froze on the zipper of his jeans. I could feel him fighting hard to slow us down, despite what his body wanted. What mine wanted. Why was this so important to him?
“It’s not casual,” I finally said, my throat sticky. It was the truth. “I like you too much, Charlie. So much that I know I’ll get hurt.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered back. “Never ever.”
“I know.”
His fingers weaved into my hair. “You’re with me, Bess. We’re together.”
His words did something to me, digging under the layers of desire and terror, right into that soft center I’d tried to hide.
“I’m with you, Charlie.” In that moment, nothing else could have been true.
Being pressed against his body in a warm, confined space, I felt protected. Shielded from the shitstorms of life. There wasnothing casual about that feeling. It was pure and heightened, almost paralyzing.
I tugged down his underwear and wrapped my fingers around that boner, gasping at the girth. I could feel his pulse. I could have kept stroking, to return the favor. But I needed more. I wiggled my leggings all the way down to my ankles and nuzzled that huge erection between my legs. I couldn’t resist rolling my hips, riding it a little. Then a little more.
I lowered my lips to his and Charlie kissed me, sinking his tongue into my mouth, one hand roaming under my shirt. He traced my breast and gently pinched the nipple, thrusting his hips forward. The movement made my soaked underwear stretch against my crotch and I gasped at the sensation. I moved with him, momentarily forgetting our confined space and everything else. I was setting the pace, yet he followed my lead, so perfectly in sync with my every little movement that I never doubted his excitement.
