Falling Under (22 page)

 
I still. “Okay?”

She nods. “Yeah. Just…give me a second.”

“Does it hurt?”

She nods. “Yeah. It does. Not bad, but it does.”
 

I’m shaking all over, need desperately to move, but I don’t, can’t, won’t. “Tell me what you need, what you want.”

She grips me by the shoulders, her fingers claws in my skin. “Just—do it. Push through it.” I take a deep breath and hesitate, then touch my forehead to hers, and push deep. I feel the skin of resistance break, and she gasps sharply. “Oh,
shit
. That hurt.”
 

“I’m sorry, Ky, so sorry—” I hate the pain on her face, but even as I watch, stilled inside her, I see her expression shifting.

She shakes her head, and the fingers of her left hand press over my lips to silence me. “Don’t apologize. It doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s okay. I’m okay.”
 

Her eyes widen, and I can’t help but shift my hips a little, seeking relief from the burgeoning pressure inside me, seeking relief for the aching need of my throbbing cock. She feels so good, and I need to move, but I won’t until she’s ready. Yet I can’t help the little wiggle of my hips, and she gasps.
 

“Oh.
Oohh
, do that again, Oz.” Her voice is shaky, but with equal parts awe and pleasure. As slowly and gingerly as I possibly can, I pull back, and her grip on my shoulders moves to my waist, then to my ass, one hand on each of my ass cheeks, and when I hesitate, she pulls at me ever so slightly. “Ohhhhmygod. That feels so good, Oz. Again, again, baby.”
 

I love that she calls me baby. It makes the ridiculous, emotional part of me go all sappy. I draw back and slide deep, all in one motion this time, and she gasps, and now she’s pulling at my ass to get me to move, move, and her back is arching off the bed.
 

“God
damn
, Kylie. You feel so,
so
good.” I whisper this to her, press my lips to her ear and huff the words low and mumbled to her. “I love the way you feel. You’re so tight.”

“Oz, oh,
fuck
, Oz, I didn’t know, I didn’t know…” Her voice is thick and emotional with awe and bliss and other things I can’t sort out. “I didn’t know it would be like this. I feel…so full. Filled with you. I didn’t know. And I’m so glad I waited. So glad it’s you.”

Our eyes meet, and she’s crying, slow fat tears sliding sideways toward her ears. I put my weight on one hand and brush the tears away. I know, somehow, that they’re good tears. Her arms wrap around my neck and pull me close in an embrace, and we’re moving together, her hips lifting to meet mine now, and there’s only Kylie, only her body and mine merging. There’s never been anyone or anything before this. Whatever I may have felt or done before this is irrelevant, something totally unrelated to what I’m experiencing now. Those other meaningless moments were a single candle flame flickering weakly in the corner of an empty room. This…this, it’s—it’s a sun. Kylie, her breath in my ear and her arms around me and her lips whispering my name in pleading awe and her legs curling around my waist to hold me deep and close, it’s not just a sun, it’s a galaxy, a whole universe of numberless stars scintillating with matchless glory.
 

“Oh, Oz. Oz. My Oz.” She writhes against me, breathing only to whisper my name.

“Yes, Kylie. Yours.” So true. I am hers. I’ve never belonged anywhere, to anyone. Now I do.

I feel her tightening around my cock, and I feel myself losing control, slipping over the edge. The motion of her hips becomes frantic, slamming against mine. Our hipbones crash and clash, and her arm clutches my neck with fierce strength, and I’m holding myself above her with one fist, the other hand tangled into hers. Our fingers grip each other, and I hear myself grunting, groaning, gasping.

“Oh, god, oh, god,” she’s panting, “ohgodohgodohgodohOz, oh, fuck, Oz. Don’t stop, dontstopdontstop.”

I laugh. “Why the hell would I stop?”

She laughs with me. “I don’t know, but please don’t. I’m gonna come so hard, so fucking hard.”

“Me, too, sweetness. Right now. God, I’m coming right now, Kylie.”

“Yes, yes!” Her fingernails gouge down my back, dig into my ass, and her hips slam, slam, slam against mine, and she’s shrieking a wordless wail.

Together, then, we come. It’s nuclear explosion, every cell in my body lighting up and striking nova-hot, and I can’t stop myself from crashing into her again and again, but she welcomes my hard thrusts with frantic slamming strokes of her own, and the only sound coming from her lips is my name, over and over and over again, chanting as we finally slow and go limp.
 

I slump onto her for a moment, unable to hold my weight any longer. Her arms slide around my shoulders and her hands circle soothingly on my back and neck. Her lips touch my ear, and she’s gasping for breath, her heels hooked around the back of my knees. I move to get up, but she holds me in place. “No, don’t move. I love this. I love your weight on me.”

“I’m crushing you.”

She wraps her arms and legs tighter around me. “Good. Crush me.”

“You’re crazy.” I laugh.
 

She nods against me. “Yep.”

We stay like that for a time I have no need to measure. Eventually, I roll off her and pull out of her, duck into the bathroom to wrap up and throw away the condom. When I come back, Kylie is sprawled on her stomach on my bed, the sheet low over her ass, her hair a tangle on my pillow. I open the window a crack and light a cigarette, smoke it slowly and watch Kylie sleep in my bed. I’m drowsy, too. I crush out the cigarette and
 
slide down and lie beside her, my back pressed against the wall, giving her space, not wanting to disturb her. She murmurs something inaudible. Her eyes crack open and she sees me, shifts toward me. I pull her head onto my chest, tug the sheet over us. Another first for both of us. I sleep with her, holding her, and I sleep better than I ever have in my life.
 

*
 
*
 
*

“Shit!” Kylie’s panicked curse wakes me.

I sit up. “What’s wrong, sweetness?”
 

“It’s almost one in the morning, Oz. I should go home.”

“What time are you supposed to be back?”

She shrugs. “I don’t have a set time.”

“Then how about you just send your dad a text to check in?”
 

She taps at her phone, and I read the text over her shoulder:
hanging out with Oz still. Just checking in.

A few seconds later, her dad’s response comes through:
Thanks for checking in. Be home by two. ILU

K. Thx and ILU too.
She sends the text, puts the phone away, and scoots off the bed.

We both see the splotch of blood on the sheets at the same time, and neither of us knows quite how to react. I meet Kylie’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Yeah. A little…sore, I guess. But really, really good. Sorry about your sheets?” She says it like a question.

I shrug. “No big deal. They’re just sheets. I’ll take care of it.”
 

“Good. I have to pee.” She stands up, still naked, and I simply cannot take my eyes off her. “Will your mom be home anytime soon? Should I put on clothes to go to the bathroom?”

I wave my hand. “Nah. She’s never home before two or three. You’re good.”
 

While Kylie is in the bathroom, I strip the sheets off the bed and wad them into a ball. I take them out into the kitchen and stuff them into the kitchen trash, which I then tie up and set by the front door. I put the single set of clean sheets on my bed and sit, thinking how strange it is that I have absolutely zero desire to get high right now. Always before, with the random girls in my past, we’d smoke before and after, to numb the sense of vulnerability. It’s easier to pretend it doesn’t mean anything, to act as if the casual, one-time-only nature of our liaisons was normal when we’re blazed out of our skulls. With Kylie, I’m sober. I’m totally me, totally aware of how significant what we just shared was. I relish the significance, admit that having it be so real, so meaningful and deeply potent, makes it infinitely better. It’s not the same act at all. Not even close.
 

My door opens, and Kylie enters, closing the door behind her, and then just stands there, weight on one leg, a shy smile on her lips, eyes bright and happy. She stares at me, just looks until I’m unnerved.

“What?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Nothing. Just looking at you. You’re gorgeous, you know. Like this especially. Naked, with your hair down. All for me.”

Finally she closes the distance between us, sits on the bed. I notice she’s brushed her hair, and I smell soap. “Me? No. But thanks, babe. You’re the gorgeous one.”

“Hey, if I say you’re gorgeous, then you are. To me. You don’t have to think so for it to be true to me.” She laughs. “This is kind of a backward conversation, isn’t it?”

I shrug. “Yeah, kind of, I guess. Does it turn you off that I’m not all…alpha and confident and all that?”

She shakes her head. “No, it doesn’t. But the thing is, you are, when you’re not thinking about it. You just don’t know how to take a compliment. When you’re being yourself, you are confident. You know exactly who you are, and you don’t make any excuses or apologies for that. That’s hot. It’s part of what drew me to you. You were so different, and you just don’t give a fuck. I love that about you. You just need to accept that I think you’re a beautiful person, inside and out. You have flaws, sure. You’ve had a rough life, and the fact that you’re so sweet with me despite how hard you’ve had it is just incredible.”

“Well, thank you.”
 

She shrugs. “It’s just the truth.” A slow grin crosses her lips. “I still have an hour before I have to be home. Whatever are we going to do to fill that time?”

I play along. “Hmmm. I have no idea. We could watch TV? Play Scrabble?”
 

She laughs, a light, delightful tinkle. “Sounds boring. I think you should lie down and let me see how long it takes to get you hard again.”

I shift down onto my back, and she sits astride me. “I like this game,” I say, and then my eyes slide shut as her fingers find me, stroke me. “I’m pretty sure it won’t take too long.”

She feathers her fingers over my length, and then rolls the tip between her fingers. Already I feel the blood rushing south, filling me. “Not long at all, it looks like.” Kylie murmurs. “What if I did this?” She lowers her mouth to my cock, licks me, flicks me with her tongue, and then resumes using her hands when I start to grow. “God, Oz. I love this so much. Watching you get hard, touching you and knowing I make you react that way. It makes me feel…powerful.”

“You make my cock hard just by being you,” I tell her.

She strokes me, long slow lazy slides of her hand along my now fully erect length. “I think you’re ready now.”

I nod. “I think so, too. Tell me what you want, sweetness.”

She opens a condom and rolls it onto me. “Uh-uh. How about I just…show you?”

I groan. “God, I love how you do that, put it on me.” I hold her hips as she settles over me. “Do whatever you want, baby.”

“I plan to.”
 

Oh, man, I’m so deeply enthralled by her, captivated by the way she’s taking over, taking what she wants, the way she’s so eager and passionate and ready for everything with me.
 

She’s got my cock in her hand, the other planted on the mattress by my face to support her weight. She’s straddling my hips, her ass in the air, and she’s lining my cock up to her entrance. Her eyes narrow and her mouth falls open, and she doesn’t hesitate one single second. She slides me into her tight wet heat, gasping with an open mouth as I fill her.
 

“Oz…shit, you’re just…just
so…fucking…big
. It doesn’t seem possible that your cock could fit inside me.” She sinks down so our hips meet, and I’m deep, so deep. “But it does, and it’s so perfect. Like you were made to fit inside me like this.”

Her spine bows outward and her head descends to press a kiss to my throat, and my hands are roaming her body, sliding over her hips, up her sides, cupping her boobs and caressing her face, and all this while she’s just impaled on me, not moving, both of us reveling in how we puzzle-fit together, how insanely beautiful this is, her above me, kissing all over me, as if her mouth can’t get enough of my skin, and I’m kissing her the same way, all over, everywhere my lips can reach to sip my fill of her milk-pale skin, silk-soft skin, fire-hot flesh.
 

Nipples between my teeth, tits in my hands, hips between my fingers, eyes like hottest fire, like lightning, like electricity, like the ocean, her breath in ragged puffs, and now she leans onto me, head on my chest, spine bowing out, drawing my cock so I’m almost slipping out, and I’m trembling with the need to glide in hard and deep, but I don’t—I let her guide us, let her taste the ache of emptiness. She groans and drives me up into her. Rises up on her shins, balancing, and her tits sway heavily as she weaves her fingers into her hair, eyes closed, back arched, head tilted back.
 

“Ready?” She breathes the question.

“So ready.” I hold her hips and stare at her, filling my eyes and my soul and my memory with this vision of her seductive, erotic beauty.

She grinds on me, a roll of her hips, bites her lower lip, and grinds again. Lifts up, sinks down. Moans my name. Lift, sink, moan. A rhythm then, slow, savoring the out-stroke and the emptiness and the glide as I fill her, and then the deep, grinding fullness, each motion deliberate. Faster then, lifting strokes, her thick, strong thighs rippling as she rises up, her fucking glorious tits bouncing, swaying, and I’m meeting her, matching her, driving up as she sinks down.

“Lick my tits, Oz.” She looks down at me, never slowing our rhythm. “Suck on my nipples.”

I lift up and she leans down, and I take her left nipple into my mouth, suckle it, nip it, bite gently, lick, kiss the areola and the impossibly soft skin around it. She moans, holds my head to her chest. I shift to suck on her right nipple, bite it just a little too hard and she shrieks, but a smile is on her face when I glance up at her, so I know I didn’t hurt her.