Inches of pale skin are exposed bit by bit, more than I’ve seen of her since that night eight years ago when we went swimming together. More than I’ve ever touched.
The flat stretch of her stomach.
The swell of her breasts, spilling out a lacy pink bra. The fabric is sheer, thin enough that she might as well be wearing nothing at all. I dip my head to suck on the dusky point of her nipple, savoring the way she gasps as I pull it into my mouth. I tug the lace down, so we’re skin on skin. The warmth of her bare flesh soaks into me.
It’s intimate. Addictive.
So is the way her hand slides down to the waistband of my pants. Unzips and dips beneath the hem to explore. We’re barreling forward, and any strength I had to slow this down—to savor it—is slipping away. When she reaches my cock, I jerk forward. It’s an involuntary reaction. So is the way I groan her name.
I want to memorize everything about this. Sex has always been a release for me, an escape. Before I knew Sutton existed and after. With her, it’s not just physical.
She moans my name again.
I lower my mouth to her ear and whisper, “Are you wet for me?”
Sutton shivers. “Find out for yourself.”
Any control over my actions is slipping. I feel the grip loosening as her hand tightens around my hard dick.
I move back. Unsnap her bra and toss it away. Pull down her black leggings, followed by her lacy underwear. I don’t need to feel between her legs. I can see her arousal. Smell it.
“I need to grab a—”
“Bedside drawer.”
The lamp Sutton turned on earlier is only casting a subtle illumination in here, but it’s enough for me to catch her nod toward the table next to the edge of the bed. I shift toward it, watching as she tosses her clothes away and sprawls out wider on the bed. Spreads her legs.
I swallow, look away, and open the drawer. Like Sutton said, there’s a box of condoms inside that is still sealed. I open it and pull a foil packet out. My pants are already hanging open, so it only takes a couple of seconds for me to yank them off and leave them on the carpet next to her clothes.
Sutton bites her bottom lip as she watches me rip the condom open and roll it on. I crawl back across the bed, hovering over her as my cock hits her center. Her hips lift, seeking more contact.
“I’m nervous,” she murmurs. Her hands slide down either side of my spine, stopping at my waist and trying to pull me inside of her. “I’veneverbeen nervous, not even the first time. Ricky was my first, and I barely remember it.” She closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip. “Shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t be… I’m killing the mood, right?”
I grab the base of my dick and guide it around her entrance. Rub against her clit. But I don’t sink inside. Not yet.
“No,” I drawl. “Pleasekeep talking about the other guys you’ve been with.”
I catch her eye roll before she lifts her hips, trying to force me inside.
“Wassheyour first?” Sutton asks me suddenly.
“No,” I reply. “Are you finished talking?”
“Are you going to fuck me?”
I press into her slowly. Slide in a single inch at a time, even as she writhes with impatience. Moans my name and begs to take more. I fight every primal urge and keep the excruciating pace as I continue to sink inside, taking my time and drawing this out as long as possible.
I savor it like the special moment it is.
No matter where we go from here, whether this is the only time we have sex or if it happens another hundred times, this willalwaysbe our first time together.
Whether she breaks my heart again or we manage to find some sort of happily ever after, I’ll always have this memory.
For now, it’s enough.