I bury my head between her breasts, licking and kissing and squeezing, and her hands shoot up to my head. Her fingers grapple through my hair, and she tugs my mouth closer, and I go with it. I give her what she wants. More of my mouth, kissing and flicking her pert nipples, until she’s panting harder, and I can’t fucking wait anymore.

I’ve gone six months without tasting her on my lips, and I want to be drenched in her right now.

I pull back, plant a quick kiss on her lips, then trail my tongue along her jawline up to her ear. “Let me go down on you.”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Then quietly, in a small, squeaky voice, she says “Okay.”

But she’s all monotone and she doesn’t sound into it. I give her a sharp stare, tilting my head. “Okay? That’s it? Just okay?”

“Trey,” she says, and her voice is shaking.

“Trey what?”

“Do I have to spell it out?”

“No. I mean, maybe yes. I just want to make sure you want it.”

“It’s hard for me to say what I want,” she says, turning her head, and flinging her hand over her eyes.

I gently remove her hand. Kiss her eyes. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“I want it,” she says. “I want you. It’s just that I’m not used to wanting it. Okay? I don’t know how to ask for it.”

I grin. I can’t help myself. “This is how you ask for it. Trey, I’m dying for your face between my legs. Say that.”

She narrows her eyes at me and huffs.

“Just try,” I say softly, nuzzling her neck.

“Why?”

“Cause it’s so fucking hot to hear you say that I think I might come just from hearing you say that.”

She smacks my shoulder. “Jesus.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re insanely hot, and I’m dying to taste you and I know you’re not vocal or into saying what you want and that’s fine. But fuck, Harley. I’ve never wanted anyone like this. And I could spend all night touching your body. And it’s not because you’re hot or beautiful. Because you are those things. It’s because you’re you. You’re the girl I want. You’re the girl I want to be with. You’re the girl I’m crazy for.”

She inhales sharply. “Trey,” she whispers. I meet her eyes, they are fiery and wild, but tentative too. Then she pushes through. “I’m dying for your face between my legs,” she says in a broken little whisper, so low it’s almost inaudible, but I hear every delicious word and they set me on fire.

I undo her jeans, pull them off quickly, then tug off her panties. I don’t even have time to admire them. I have a mission and I’m going for it.

My whole body is a live wire right now. I am consumed with nothing but desire for her. My bones, my blood, my nerves are all firing at mach speed with the need to have her. Of course, I’m pretty sure all the blood in my body has been diverted to one place and one place only because I am too hard for words.

But fuck words.

It’s time for action.

She trembles with anticipation and looks at me with desire, want and the tiniest bit of fear, but I know she’s not scared of me. It’s the fear of letting herself feel that’s gripping her. But I am going to make her feel everything. I place my hands on her knees. “I’m going to spread your legs now,” I tell her.

“Okay,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes, giving that lame-ass word right back to me. But her okay doesn’t bug me now. Because her body has made everything clear. She’s so ready, she’s beyond ready, it’s like she’s fucking glistening for me, and I can not wait to taste her.

She lets her legs fall open, and that’s it. I’m fucking done. I kiss the inside of one leg, from behind her knee, up her thigh. She shivers, the soft little hairs on her leg stand on end. Then I switch to her other leg, inching closer, and she’s already breathing harder. Her hands search for me, her fingers lacing through my hair as she tries to pull me in.

“Do you want me to lick you, Harley?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to taste you now?”

“Yes,” she says again, her voice nearing a beg.

“Do you want me to make you come on my tongue?”

“Yes, please,” she says, and that last word has several syllables as it turns into a long, low moan of pleasure as I bring my lips to her. To where she wants me. God, she tastes fucking amazing, and I have missed this, I have dreamed of this, I have jerked off to this many, many times. And now I’m back in the promised land, where I want to be. I want to have her, to kiss her, to do everything to her with my mouth. To feel her body move and arch against my face.

I grab her ass, cup her cheeks, pull her closer, and she makes another sound. A bit louder this time, but still, she’s a quiet one. She might always be a quiet one and that’s fine with me. I don’t need her to scream or shout to know I’m doing it right. I know because of how she’s moving beneath me, how she’s starting to rock her hips and grab my hair. I know because of how she’s breathing out hard and stilted, and how she tastes on my lips and my tongue. I will never get enough of her, I will never stop wanting this, wanting her, wanting to taste her come on my tongue.

Judging from the way she’s arching her back and thrusting into me, I’m pretty sure that’s going to happen any second. I follow her lead, kissing and tasting and licking her exactly how she likes, in the ways that make her go crazy, make her thrash around. I glance up, watching her reaction, as she grabs the pillow, digging her nails into it, gripping it hard.

Then she says the most glorious thing I’ve ever heard. She says my name so loudly, and she doesn’t stop saying it until the orgasm has rocked her body, and even then she’s still gasping, her legs trembling as it fades like a wave rolling back out to the sea at night.

Harley

I feel it in my fingertips. In my toes. In my hair. Hell, I feel that orgasm in my split ends. Not that I have any. Split ends, that is. But if I did, I’d feel it there too. It’s still radiating through my entire body, and I think I may be floating for days on this cloud of absolute and utter bliss, like the whole world has turned bright white and gold, and everything is beautiful.

Trey flops down next to me, looking immensely pleased.

He nuzzles my neck, whispers in my ear. “You are so sexy when you come.”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling the slightest bit embarrassed. I’ve only had five, maybe ten orgasms tops, in my life. I’m guessing four have been ones he’s given me. All the others were self-delivered, and I’ve never been terribly preoccupied with rubbing one out. Sex has always reminded me of things I don’t want to be reminded me of. There was too much sex around me anyway—smells and sounds, all those awful sounds from my mom’s bedroom or her office. Sounds I never wanted to hear. Sounds I never wanted to make. To be honest, I’ve never wanted to be touched before. I didn’t want someone trying to get me off, trying to make me feel good. I didn’t want to know what I’d sound like when someone did that to me.

But with Trey, I let go of all that. He’s the only man I’ve ever wanted to feel things with, feel things for. With him, I am learning to let go. Learning that sex doesn’t have to be embarrassing. That contact doesn’t have to remind me of all the ways I grew up. Giving up control, and trusting another person doesn’t have to be the scariest thing in the world. It can be incredible on its own.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” I say back.

“You look woozy. But that’s a compliment.”

I smile, but say nothing. I’m not sure what to say.

“I know I should feel guilty since I’m supposed to be a monk or something,” he says, tracing lazy circles on my belly. He bends his lips to my stomach, kisses me there, makes me tremble. “But I don’t.”

I run my fingers through his hair, so soft to the touch, so nice on my hand. “Me neither.”

He tugs me closer. I’m naked against him and he’s still wearing his jeans. With him wrapped around me, I can feel his erection. I can feel how hard he is through the denim, his size pressing against my naked skin.