“You trust me?” He sounded surprised.
“Up to a point,” I said carefully. “I mean, I’d never actually date you, but for my current purposes, you’ll do.”
“I’ll do?” He stood up and puffed out his chest. “I’ll have you know that there are a lot of girls dying to sleep with me. I don’t need to be your trust fuck just to get laid.”
“I know,” I told him. “And I figure your experience will come in handy. That’s another reason why I chose you.”
I was leaving out the third reason, because I didn’t want to say it out loud—that our kiss on prom night still had the power to turn me on whenever I thought about his body beneath mine, and the sensual way he kissed. I was attracted to Oliver without having a crush on him, which made him the perfect candidate to help me accomplish my goal.
He kept looking at me, like he wasn’t sure whether this was a joke or a dream. “Why wouldn’t you ever date me?”
“Because I’ve known you too long, and I know you too well. Your priority is a good time. You’d never be faithful to me. Plus you’re immature, conceited, spoiled—”
“Okay, okay.” He held up one hand and frowned. “I get the point.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“How come I feel like I’m supposed to lecture you about having more respect for your body?” he asked, shaking his head. “What the actual fuck is wrong with me right now?”
“I do have respect for my body.” Because I felt like he might not agree to my plan, I decided to take it to the next level.
Step one—I grabbed the bottom of my sweater and whipped it over my head, letting it drop to the floor.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as his eyes drifted down my chest. Beneath the sweater, I’d worn a very fitted black tank top with a scoop neck and a pushup bra. The look on his face was exactly what I’d been hoping for. Boys were so predictable.
Step two—I took off the tank top and let it fall from my fingers. “Come on. Say yes. Don’t you want to?”
“Yes, I want to,” he answered, his voice raw, his gaze on the rounded tops of my breasts above the top of that ridiculous bra. When I took it off, he was probably going to feel cheated.
“Good.” Time for step three. I reached behind my back and unhooked the bra. But before it slipped from my shoulders, he slammed his eyes shut.
“Jesus, Chloe. What the fuck are you doing to me? I’m all …” He swallowed hard and squirmed before opening one eye and adjusting the crotch of his jeans. “Confused.”
“Why?”
He looked at me seriously. “Because no-strings-attached sex with a hot girl is pretty much a guy’s dream, and I’m sitting here trying to talk myself out of doing it. I feel like I’m in the fucking Twilight Zone.”
“Look, Oliver. I want this. I’ve thought this through. I want to lose my virginity, and I want it to be with you.” I started hooking my bra again. “But if you’re not willing and able, I’ll have to find—”
“Wait, wait, wait just a damn minute,” he said, sticking his chest out again, hands on his hips. “I never said I wasn’t willing. And I’m definitely fucking able.”
I looked up at him. “Then I dare you to prove it.”
“You’re on.” He reached for the bra, but I held it in place.
“There are just a few things we have to agree to first.”
He groaned. “I knew it. What?”
“Number one—we use protection.”
“Duh. Next.”
“This is our secret. We never tell anyone it happened.”
“Fine. Next.”
“This is a one-time thing. Nothing changes between us. So no weird texts or phone calls or treating each other differently. We don’t like each other afterward.”
“I don’t like you at all right now.”
I smiled and let the bra fall. “Perfect.”
His hands were on my breasts before I could even take a breath, and he pushed me back onto his bed so fast I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.
Somehow—I’m not sure how, since he never seemed to take his hands off my body—he took off his navy blue henley and whatever he’d worn beneath it and stretched out above me with his bare chest on mine. It felt sort of warm and heavy in a nice way, but then the feeling was gone, replaced by a different one as his mouth traveled down my throat and chest and over each breast. My nipples stiffened and tingled, sending little bolts of arousal deep into my belly. Oliver wasn’t the first guy to get this far with me, but he was definitely the most skilled. He did things with his lips and tongue that made me gasp and arch up off the bed. My hands moved of their own volition, threading into his dark hair. My fingers curled into fists.
I’d sort of expected him to get right down to business, so I was surprised that he seemed to want to take his time. As his mouth moved from one breast to the other and back again, like he couldn’t decide which one was his favorite and had to keep tasting them both, one of his hands slipped between my thighs, and he rubbed me slowly but firmly on the outside of my jeans. This wasn’t a new thing for me either, but it felt like it, because no one had ever touched me there while kissing me that way. The effect was dizzying and made my body feel loose-limbed and liquid. When he unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, I was ready for it. I wanted more.
His slid his hand inside my underwear, but didn’t rush to shove his finger inside me—he went slow, rubbing circles over my clit before stroking me soft and shallow, his tongue still teasing my nipple. He went so slow, in fact, I began to get impatient. This wasn’t supposed to be romantic.
“Oliver,” I whispered, using my hold on his hair to pull up his head. “Take my jeans off.”
Without a word, he moved to the foot of his bed and yanked off my shoes and socks, my jeans and underwear. Before I could feel weird about being completely naked in front of him for the first time, he ditched the rest of his clothing and lay down beside me.
This time he kissed me for real, and I realized why that kiss on prom night had stayed with me. Oliver was a great kisser. He had a generous mouth with full, lush lips that commandeered a kiss the way a general commandeered his men. He braced himself on one arm and reached between my legs with the other hand. This time I did the same, a little hesitant at first, but discovering how hard he was, and hearing the groan at the back of his throat when I wrapped my hand around him, bolstered my confidence.
He slid one finger inside me as his tongue stroked mine. Then two. I moved my fist up and down the hot, rigid length of his dick, and soon he began to thrust in time to my rhythm. His breath came faster and faster. Pulling his fingers from my body, he rubbed the silky wetness over my clit with his fingertips. I wanted to move against his hand, but I was too self-conscious. This wasn’t supposed to be about pleasure. I didn’t need seduction.
He grew slick inside my palm. “Do you have something?” I whispered, my heart pumping hard.
“Yeah.” Climbing over me, he got out of bed, went over to his dresser, and opened the top drawer.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him—I’d never seen a guy fully naked walking around before. Oliver’s body was lean and taut, with ridges on his abdomen, muscular shoulders, and hairy legs. His erection stuck out from his body, pointing diagonally up at the ceiling. I almost laughed out of sheer nervousness, but the next second he tore open the condom wrapper and began to roll it down his cock, and something about watching him do it stole my breath.