“But it feels so….gooooood,” I say into his palm, arching my back and rocking closer, so my clit brushes his pelvis.
“It’s about to feel even better,” he says. “But you have to promise me to keep these pretty lips shut. Swallow the moans, baby. Keep all of it inside.”
On anyone else, his claims would sound like bravado, but Micky isn’t a showoff. He just knows his capabilities and owns them, and there is something so unbelievably sexy about that.
When he moves faster and deeper, I clamp my mouth shut and close my eyes, letting my body become one with his, undulating like the ocean around the stern of a boat. I dwell in the darkness behind my eyelids, concentrating on keeping quiet even as I whisper his name and tell him harder, faster. Micky doesn’t need instructions, though. He holds the perfect even tempo, building and building, drawing me tighter and closer until I have to open my eyes and stare at him because he’s about to achieve the impossible. He’s going to make me come while he’s inside me.
It’s never happened before. No matter how hard I’ve tried to get into the right position with other boyfriends. No matter what instructions I’ve garbled or how I’ve moved to get the friction right, a penetration orgasm has always been elusive.
But not with Micky.
Because he knows what my body needs. He grips my wrists against the bed with one hand and uses the other to tip my hips, and then it’s there, smooth and sparkling, like I’m slipping into a warm sea while the fourth of July fireworks light up the sky.
“That’s it,” he hisses, as his control seems to slip. I understand why. My pussy has clamped down so tightly it must be hard for him to withdraw. I guess he likes it like that because he closes his eyes and arches his spine, and then it happens.
I watch my stepbrother tumble into oblivion too.
Well, I say tumble into oblivion. In reality, he looks more like he’s been yanked into the depths of hell. His face pulls into a grimace, and his body seizes. Everything suddenly looks painful. But that’s how I know it’s good. So good.
When he eventually returns to the land of the living, Micky stares down at me with his emerald eyes, blinking fast as though he’s seeing me for the first time. His hair is flopping messily over his brow, and the skin on his chest is slick with sweat. He’s messy and panting and perfect. A different person now we’ve shared this epic experience together. Like a cardboard cutout made in 3D.
“Fuck, Ellie.” He shakes his head, those dark curls flopping in a way that tempts my fingers to touch. His hair is soft, and he closes his eyes as I gently pet him.
“That was…” I trail off, not knowing how to express what a life-changing moment I just experienced. How can I tell him he proved that I’m not broken? How can I tell him that every sexual experience I had before him was unsatisfying and disappointing?
We might have just done the most intimate thing possible, but somehow the emotions behind the physical act seem more sensitive, more private.
“It really fucking was,” he says. There’s a surprise in his tone, too. I can’t imagine that I’m the first girl who’s ever had that reaction, so maybe he’s just shocked that I did.
Maybe he’s always thought of me as frigid and uptight, and the reality is such a surprise.
Maybe he just created a new reality because, as stupid as it sounds, I don’t feel like the same person I was when I snuck across the hall and slipped into Micky’s bed. I feel like a ripe fruit that’s been peeled and devoured. I feel like a woman who’s been shown into a room that’s filled with treasure and told there are more rooms and infinite treasures, and all I have to do is keep coming back.
Could I? Without a dare to push me, could I make this a regular thing?
I don’t know.
Because there isn’t just Micky to show me the riches of the secret treasure sex rooms, there’s Sebastian and Colby too.
“Why now?” Micky asks.
I shrug, allowing my hands to trail his sweat-slicked back and take in the warmth of his crazy-fit body.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “The party…”
“I know,” he says, and with those two small words, he shows me he gets it. He felt it too. It wasn’t just me.
His brow furrows as he chews his cheek, considering me closely. “But right after, you were so angry about what happened. You looked at us like we’d violated a trust. What changed your mind?”
I could lie and tell him that my feelings have changed. I could use seeing them at the football training as the trigger for my mindset shift but doing that would be risky. It would mean admitting to feelings, and that isn’t what this is about.