Part Eighteen

                                    

                                          
    I'm being devoured. Drew takes my suggestion and runs with it, his mouth everywhere at once. His kisses are wet and sloppy, his teeth getting in the way one too many times. I can't keep up. He mutters in between kisses, sometimes unintelligible, sometimes words so awed I'd blush if I weren't frantic to have him.
                          
    I can't catch his mouth, can't stop his hands. On my ass, squeezing my breasts, spanning my waist and flexing as he nips into the delicate flesh of my throat. If he doesn't slow down, calm down, back off a bit, this will not end well. 
                          
    "Drew." Threading my fingers through his hair, I tug his head away from my shoulder, where he'd been licking and suckling at the skin. "Slow down." This is new territory for both of us. We shouldn't rush it.
                          
    Slow it down, find the spot under his ear that makes him shudder every time. Slow it down, his tongue flicking over my earlobe, teeth catching it and tugging. Slow it down and build the anticipation. It doesn't matter we'll have so many more opportunities to do this. We only get to have sex for the first time once. I'm not asking for perfection. I don't know that I'd know what it is. I just want to steep myself in it, feel it with every fiber of my being.
                          
We might have discovered touch only a few weeks ago, but we've been waiting for this moment for years.
                          
    Thorough kisses. Hot kisses. Does he understand what he does to me? Not just stir my blood and drive me insane, trying to figure out what's supposed to happen next and how to get there, but how deeply he's imprinted on me. The thought of doing this with someone else is as foreign as the outside world. 
                          
    This final step, taken in such a short span of time, will allow me to claim him. He'll be mine. No one else's.
                          
    It's kind of fascinating, how our bodies fit together. We take the bits and pieces we've uncovered so far and start fitting them into new places. It's natural to shift my legs apart and cradle his hips. He cups my breast and rubs a thumb over my nipple, smiling against my mouth when I gasp. In retaliation, I scrape my teeth along his jaw.
                          
    Every kiss, every slide, every stroke takes on new meaning. Nerves flutter in my belly as my arousal increases. His erection glides easily, the head of his penis bumping over my clitoris as our hips undulate in growing desperation. 
                          
    He pulls his mouth away from my nipple and braces his forearms on either side of my head, his lids drooping shut when I dig my nails into his hips. "Fuck, Lexi. Are you ready? Because I don't think I can wait much longer."
                          
    My insides tighten with fear, despite how empty and aching I feel. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Biting my lip, I nod, reaching down to wrap my fingers around him. His hand covers mine, and I shift around, spreading my legs wider, tilting my pelvis up. Waiting for him.
                          
    Oh. I stifle the noise of discomfort as he slots himself against me, pushing in. The tendons of his neck stand out in stark relief, lips turning white as he clenches his jaw. Finally the discomfort eases, and he slumps down. "I don't think this is going to work," he whispers.
                          
    It has to. "Try again." I kiss him, slick my tongue along his lower lip. 
                          
    "Lex-"
                          
    I stroke my hands down to grip his ass. "No. Try again."
                          
    Instead of obeying, he flips us so he's on his back. Anxiety spikes, and I stare down at him, desperation a dark glint in his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you," he says. 
                          
    I curl my fingers around his penis and stroke him once, twice, glancing down at my hand. His rigid length is red and angry-looking, the skin slippery with his need and mine. And somehow, this is supposed to fit inside of me.