Page 54 of Not You Again
My strokes are less controlled now, and pleasure slowly unravels in my spine. “I think about you saying my name, just like that.” She groans, and her hips buck against the sheets. “You like the idea of me fucking you, don’t you?”
“God, yes.” The words are a reluctant whisper as she tosses her head back, eyes closed. Her tits thrust into the air as her back arches. She flicks her vibrator up another speed, and my fist flies over my dick to keep the pace.
“I think about your nails scraping down my back as I fuck you, hard enough that you’ll feel me there, even when I’m gone.” That admission is too raw, too close to how I feel about her. I clench my jaw as stars pop in my vision.
She’s writhing in the sheets now, leading herself up to the edge while I tell her what I want to do with her. The way she’s responding is a punch in the solar plexus—she’s been thinking about this too. We’ve both been craving each other, and here we are, all of it within reach and we’re still across the room from each other like we might combust if we did touch.
“Christopher,” she begs, using my full name, the one no one else uses with me. It’s like no time has passed at all.
“Do you remember that night, when everyone else was at the homecoming game?” My legs tremble, heat gathering low in my spine. “When we snuck into the art studio?”
She swears, hips bucking. She remembers. I don’t know how either of us could forget. I bent her over one of the tables and buried my face in her pussy until her scream echoed in the empty room. As she came, she knocked over a can with paint brushes in it. I can still hear them clattering to the linoleum floor, the can rattling as it followed.
“I still remember how you taste,” I admit, closing my eyes. “How wet you were. How you clenched around my tongue as you came on my face.”
Her moans now are louder, punctuated by desperate pants. She’s somewhere else. Back in that studio, maybe. After she came on my tongue, she shoved me to the ground and rode me within an inch of my life before I exploded into her like I never came before in my life.
“Do you want to ride me again?” I dare to ask. “Like you did that night?”
“Yes, yes, yes.” She thrashes against the sheets, fighting her impending orgasm, and I’m going to win this stupid fucking contest. All at once, she kicks the sheets in the right direction and I can see her glistening pussy, swollen and ready for me, as she says, “I want to come all over your dick.”
She opens her eyes and meets my gaze in the mirror.
My orgasm rips through me with such force my thighs slam against the sharp edge of the dresser. I shout her name and barely have time to cover the tip of my dick with her panties as I spill into them, bucking my hips like I want to be spilling into her. My knees buckle as I slam into the dresser, sending perfume bottles toppling over as my orgasm racks on and on and on.
And if this is what it’s like coming just near her, I might not survive being inside her. I can’t fucking breathe.
My only consolation is that she’s arching off the bed, shaking as she gasps my name over and over, like I am inside her.
I swear as a second, smaller orgasm rockets through me when I thought I was done. I slouch against the dresser, resting my forehead on the mirror as I catch my breath. Fucking hell.
Andie is an actual fantasy come to life as she trembles through her climax. Just when I think she’s done, she arches off the bed again and I chant in a whisper, “One more. Give me one more.”
Her shout as she comes again is incoherent, but I tell her, “Yes, God yes, that’s fucking beautiful.”
She collapses back on the sheets, trying to catch her breath. I swallow the lump of emotion in my throat, tearing my eyes from her listless form on the bed. I don’t know what to say.
All I know is the shame rising so quickly, I can’t stop it. It’s over my head now, drowning me, pulling me out to sea, farther and farther from her every single second. She doesn’t speak. The hum of the vibrator finally stops, leaving us in cold, stony silence. Isolated like we hadn’t just connected on the most primal level mere moments ago.
My energy is sapped, and I’m not sure I can walk without stumbling. I won’t be running today. My phone buzzes in my pocket and the shame rises up to strangle me anew.
I wince, remembering that I have a meeting this morning, and I don’t know how much time I just spent in this fantasy. Fuck.
It’s just as well. I don’t know if I could stop myself from touching her if she decides to steam my clothes this morning.
This feels too real. While we pushed each other to the finish line, we weren’t faking it. We were together. I don’t know how to go backward.
I force myself to stand, head still so light the room tilts a bit. But I manage to move without falling. I walk to the bathroom without looking at Andie on the sheets. I can’t stand to see her right now, to add to my humiliation.
Her voice is soft. “Kit.”
I pause, afraid to look at her. “I’m sorry.”
Andie sighs and the sheets rustle. Before I can back away, she’s in front of me in just a T-shirt, her cheeks still flushed from her orgasm. “I wish you weren’t.”
“No?”
Her fingers rest on my jaw, nudging my face so I’ll look her in the eyes. “I’m not sorry. Not when I was worried this side of you was gone.”