揟ums. For your reflux later,?he says when he stands and gives the bottle a little shake at me.
It probably shouldn抰 have the effect on me that it does. Tums are hardly an aphrodisiac. But it抯 the fact that even amongst everything, he took my passing comment to heart and put my needs before his own, that he took the opportunity to do something small that he knew would make me laugh.
He抯 there, jacket sleeves pushed up on thickly-built forearms, brows lifted, that bemused look on his wind-blown face. Piecing together in such a way that it抯 somehow obscene, him shaking that antacid my way.
I抦 floating, filling with heat and this rising feeling in my chest. So much love and adoration for this man. So I stand and walk over to him, slide my palm up from his chest to his jaw. 揟hank you,?I say, before I weave my fingers in his hair and tug his face down to mine.
There抯 a desk and a bed, and yet we end up against the wall at first, his mouth devouring my own. 揝hit梥orry are you okay??he asks when my head thuds against it.
揧es,?I manage through a small laugh before I dive back in, desperate for more of his kiss. His hands splay out against my rib cage as he slides me up the wall, body pinning me there. And I can抰 help myself, my hips undulate, seeking friction against his thigh, sliding against an equally hard part of him in the movement. He hisses, and I let loose a gasp. 揑抦 sorry?sorry,?I whisper, even though I抦 anything but.
揥hat the fuck for??he asks, his voice taking a gravelly edge, deeper, commanding even in its quietness. A secret for me, another something new that I want for my own. His tongue slides across his lower lip before he tucks it behind his top teeth, biting. His eyes traverse my face, down the slope of my neck, to where our bodies meet.
揑抦梪h桰 can抰，？I say. 揑 should抳e told you before. I can抰 right now卼his week, I mean. I抦 sorry.?
He looks like he wants to laugh, but graciously refrains. 揥hy would you apologize about being on your period, Fee??
揑 don抰 want to, like, give you false expectations,?I play with the short strands of his hair at the base of his skull.
揑 didn抰 expect anything. Kinda sounds like you do, though,?he smirks. 揑 just wanted to kiss you again. What is it you think I expect??
揑 think most guys probably expect to have sex when they come up to a girls hotel room, no??
揃oys. Idiot, juvenile boys, Fee,?he growls. 揑 plan to savor this. You. And maybe I like the idea of making you wait for the rest.?He smiles at my little sound of protest. 揘ow shut up and let me keep kissing you.?His mouth goes to my jaw, down my neck, tongue dipping to the hollow of my throat before he pulls the strap of my camisole aside and kisses just below my collarbone. I tug on his hair and bring his mouth back to mine, eating up his small grunt when I grind on him again.
He slides his thumb across my nipple before he dips down, nibbles it through the thin material of my top. 揗y桰 want棓 I don抰 know what I want, though. More? Less? To go back in time and slap the shit out of Eve for cursing us all with menstruation?
I finish the thought by showing him, digging my heels into the backs of his thighs and pressing that aching spot against him in reply. He doesn抰 hesitate, just scoops me off the wall, finding my lips again before he carries us over to the little armless chair in the corner and sits, pressing me into his lap and pumping my hips once. When I let out a small moan against his ear he tilts his chin up to me, rewards me with another searing kiss as he drags my hips back and forth again. Each movement ratchets up the sensations buzzing beneath my skin, closer and closer in spite of the clothing that still separates us. I slide the straps of my ratty tank top away, exposed and open to the frigid hotel air. And then I look down and realize that I抳e just whipped out my boobs to my best friend and it should absolutely feel weird, but the way he looks at me, like I抦 some unexpected treasure, has me feeling impossibly confident and sexy. I smile, and his returning one starts out shy before it heats, before he leans forward and catches one pebbled nipple into his mouth and pulls. He works out a rhythm of sliding me against him while he lays more attention to me simultaneously; tongue and teeth and lips. Until I抦 frenzied, gyrating and circling, friction and sensation and heat, and so, so close. Until his head falls back against the chair and his brow furrows in concentration, as the pads of his fingertips spread down to my ass, kneading, squeezing and pressing through my leggings while he works my hips. His mouth falls open and his eyes meet mine, as he tilts his hips and presses up against me and I come completely undone.
19
NOW
MEYER
She blushes when she comes. A watercolor pink that spreads across her chest. She does it quietly, with a breathy groan like that first stretch after waking. It抯 all I can do to not try and coax another one from her, to start collecting them, hoarding them. I want to build a library in my mind to store them in. With floor to ceiling shelves and a rolling ladder.
揋od, you抮e pretty like this, Fee.?
She opens heavy lids and smiles drowsily at me. 揥hat? Topless and quiet??
揘o. Satisfied and on top of me.?And a surge of pride rushes through me at the way her eyes dilate when I say it.
She adjusts a little and I hiss, still painfully hard.
揥hat if I want to know how you look? Satisfied, I mean??she asks, palming me through the jeans before I grab her wrist to stop her.
揘o, Fee. You don抰 have to.?
揑 think it抯 only fair. And I want to.?
I choke on a groan. 揇on抰 you have to meet棓 someone, I can抰 call it to mind when all the blood in my body seems to be occupying one region. 摋soon??Though I know it won抰 take long. Embarrassingly quick at this point, I抦 sure. Her eyes dart down to my watch.
揝hit! Yes, In ten minutes!?And she flies off my lap with a push that has me going cross eyed in a grunt of pain. 揙h my god, I抦 so sorry!?she cries. I wave her off while I try to catch my breath, balls in my stomach. She starts laughing and I attempt a glare that probably turns into a stupid looking smile when I realize her top is still pulled down. 揑抦 so sorry My.?She puts a knee on the edge of the chair between my legs, far enough that I don抰 clutch myself or flinch harder. She leans over and puts her cheek to mine, whispers in my ear. 揑抣l make it better later, if you抣l let me,?before she pecks my cheek.
She swaggers away, biting the tip of her thumb in a smile as she turns and walks off to the bathroom. When she shuts the door I grab my phone as I cough, and change my flight again, before guilt makes me second guess it.
We manage to make it all the way into the elevator before I notice the calm starting to evaporate from Fee like steam. I stupidly assume it抯 about me. 揥hat抯 up??I ask, aiming for casual so she knows she can tell me if she抯 freaking out about things, so she knows that I myself am not freaking out about it despite the drumline that抯 taken up residence in my chest. She surprises me by stepping my way and wrapping herself around my side.
揓ust nervous about my set and the tour. I feel guilty that everything else is so単ood. That I want to just go out and have a good time tonight and put it off some more. I normally want to work, you know? I抦 distracted and I feel bad that I like it.?
I slide my hand around her shoulders and up, touch her soft cheek while her other one presses into my chest. I don抰 know if I should feel good about her being distracted, even though she says she likes it. Because I certainly don抰 want to be a mere distraction. I also don抰 want her work to suffer, though, so I try not to complicate things further by demanding we put a name to this thing between us and define it. I put on my manager hat for the time being梠r at least I try to. These various hats I抳e been wearing all suddenly seem too small.