I look at the bedside cabinet on my side and wonder what I’ll fill it with. I wonder which wardrobe I’ll hang my clothes in, and if it would be appropriate to bring Mr Ted in here too.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
I shake my head, and I’m not today. I’m really not.
I stroke his face, my thumb brushing over his shadowy stubble, and I want him so much it makes my toes curl.
“I know that expression,” he tells me, and kisses my fingers.
And I know his.
I’m coming to know everything. Every one of his smiles.
And his frowns. I’ve seen a few of those now too.
He kisses me and his lips are soft and warm. His tongue is gentle today, tasting me so slowly. I breathe into him and tangle my fingers in his hair, my legs reaching for his, my knee hooking under and guiding him close.
It feels so natural, the way he moves, positioning himself above me with his weight on his elbows. I hook my ankles around his calves, and my body knows how this works now. It knows how to tip my hips just right and how to shift myself underneath him.
He’s so hard, rubbing himself just right, the length of him pressed just where I need him.
But I don’t want it like this today. I want it to be different. New.
I smile as I push my hand to his chest, loving the way his eyes show such surprise as I wriggle out from under him and urge him to move.
Nick looks so different on his back, his cock so proud as I work it in my fingers.
I suck him, and he groans. He raises his arms and rests them behind his head, and his legs part so willingly.
He’s mine.
And today this is my show, my way.
It feels amazing to be in control.
Kelly Anne was wrong about sex, just like she was wrong about so many things I took her word on.
To be sexy doesn’t mean you have to wear a short skirt and bright red lipstick. It doesn’t mean you have to do a striptease or put on some epic performance.
It just means being confident. Being yourself.
Being sexy means being me.
And today I want to be me. I’m good enough for Nick to love me, and that makes me good enough for me too.
I’ve never been on top before. It feels so alien to straddle him, but I like it.
I play with my clit and he watches without moving. His eyes are dark, but not fierce, even though he lets out the same low groan as I position his cock and lower myself onto him.
I move just as I want to, my hips circling and my little tits bouncing just as much as they can bounce, and the pressure inside builds so easily this way.
It feels amazing.
Everything feels amazing.
“Beautiful,” he says, and I feel it. I do feel beautiful, so exposed and on display.
I lean forward, and kiss him, and the angle is just right. It must be right for him too, because his breath is fast and ragged, and his hips thrust right back at me.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, Laine, that feels incredible.”
I know it does. It feels perfect. Perfect enough that my movements are frantic and my thighs are tense.
I’m going to come, and I know that, but it’s different. This feels different.
Bigger and deeper and…
And fuck.
Fuck.
Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I don’t know if I’ve said it aloud and I don’t care. My senses are fried, my nerves sparking like crazy, and my whole fucking body shudders.
And then he comes too.
And I feel it. I feel it so well in this position.
I did it.
I did it all and I’m so proud.
He pulls me into his arms and holds me tight, and I giggle. I can’t stop giggling.
He holds me until I’m quiet, and then he brushes the hair from my forehead, stares at me with eyes that let me know he enjoyed it as much as I did.
“You must be hungry now,” he says.NickI absolutely refuse to express an opinion until Laine has whittled her dress choice down to three. I want it to be her decision, exactly the dress she wants.
She’s surprised me, but that in itself isn’t surprising. She’s always surprising me.
Her three choices are so grown up. Tasteful gowns in dark colours, rich navy or mulled wine.
I can hardly contain myself as she slips into the dressing room to try them on, and when she steps out in the blue dress I lose the power of speech.
She really does take my breath away.
“I like it,” she tells me. “I like it a lot.” She smiles. “In fact, I think I love it.”
She does a twirl and the fabric swishes. It’s highlighted with diamante, tiny little stones that look like stars on a night sky.