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I sag against him once my orgasm subsides, trying to catch my breath when I hear both of our phones ding with a notification.
“I bet that’s Iris,” I murmur, allowing Rhett to turn me to face him, his hands on my hips. “She probably wants to meet us now.” Rhett glances down at himself and I follow his path, my eyes widening when I see his erection straining against the front of his pants. “I don’t think I can go out like this.”
A giggle escapes me when I picture him showing up at the hot tub with a tent in his swim trunks. I’m sure Iris would find it hilarious. And then she’d probably call me a lucky bitch.
I can literally hear her say exactly that.
“Do you need my help?” I reach out to touch him, drifting my fingers across his impressive length. He hisses in a breath at first contact but that only makes me bolder. I touch him more firmly, curling my fingers around him, trying to learn his shape despite the thick material of his pants.
“Willow …” His voice is a warning, one I don’t take. With my other hand, I reach for the button, undoing it before I pull down the zipper, my hand automatically going to the front of his black underwear. He’s even warmer with only the cotton barrier preventing me from touching his actual flesh, and I glance up at him, feeling powerful.
I did this to him. I made him hard and aching for me. The agony on his face is obvious and he grabs hold of my wrist, stopping me from further exploring.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to,” I say without hesitation. “Let’s go to the bed.”
“Should we check our messages?” His voice is weak. I want his resolve to be as well. I want him to do what I want, so I can do what I want to him.
“They can wait.” I remove my hand from inside his khakis and shift away from him, heading for the bed. “Are you coming?”
My voice is a tease, as is my choice of words. He follows after me without hesitation, both of us sitting on the edge of the mattress, me lunging for him, my mouth finding his. I kiss him with everything I’ve got. All the pent-up emotion and passion I’ve felt throughout the night. The gratitude I want to show him for giving me my first orgasm brought on by someone else.
It was a delicious, life-changing moment. One I want to repeat with him as often as possible.
We kiss and kiss, rarely breaking apart, but somehow, he ends up with his khakis down around his ankles and my hand beneath his boxer briefs. Learning the shape and size of him and what he might like. Currently it’s anything I do, but I’m sure he has preferences. Spots that feel better when touched than others. I want to learn them all.
I want to learn everything about him.
“Will you come like this?” I whisper against his always seeking lips. My hand is wrapped around his length and he’s leaking all over my fingers. I don’t know why, but I didn’t realize men could be as wet as women before they actually come.
“Squeeze a little tighter and move a little faster—that’ll make me come,” he says.
I do as he suggests, my fingers grasping his shaft harder, sliding up and down. Our mouths fused, his hand on my breasts, tugging at the front of my dress with enough force that eventually they pop out. I can feel his fingers on my nipples. Teasing them. Pinching them and I swear I’m wet again.
“Oh fuck.” He moans when I rub my thumb across his tip, my fingers squeezing. “Just like that.”
I keep doing what he likes, his entire body going still—to the point that I swear he’s not even breathing. I increase my pace, my movements jerky. Not practiced at all but I don’t think he cares. He even settles his hand over mine, demonstrating what he wants me to do before he lets go and I mimic him, pulling away from his mouth, glancing down to watch.
When I imagined doing something sexually with a boy for the first time, I never thought I’d want to actually see anything. I figured I’d keep my eyes tightly closed and concentrate on feeling.
But there is something almost beautiful in witnessing this moment—the one I’m sharing with Rhett for the first time. How vulnerable he is, how real and raw and beautiful. His eyes crack open as well, his gaze meeting mine, and we stare at each other while I stroke him, our gazes both dropping when I feel that first spurt of liquid on my fingers.
He’s coming all over my hand groaning from the force of it, his body wracked with shudders. I watch in quiet fascination, my hand going slower and slower as he leans back, his hands braced on the mattress behind him, his erection still in my hands, pulsating.
When he’s done, I carefully remove my hand, bringing my fingers to my face so I can smell his semen. This experience feels like a mystery revealed, a moment etched in my brain, one I will never be able to forget.
There’s a knock on the door. A pounding really. It startles us both, our heads whipping in the direction of the door and the handle jiggles, as if someone is trying to open it.
“We know you’re in there, you perverts,” Iris seems to breathe through the wood. Is she speaking into the crack between the door and the frame? Trying to see inside? “Stop fucking around and meet us in ten.”
“I had nothing to do with this,” Brooks calls as Iris gives the handle one more shake before giving up.
We remain quiet for a moment, sharing a look only when we assume they’re gone.
“Your cousin is fucking insane,” Rhett mutters.
“I know,” I whisper with a giggle.
