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I nod. And then his middle finger nudges at my opening,tapping gently while his thumb strokes my clit, and I think it’s going to be a process, I think my body is going to have to work for it, but I’m wrong. He sinks inside me like a stone in water, gentle but not tentative, and it’s tight, but the friction is good. He pulls back to hold my eyes, and we stay like that, both vaguely surprised, both not quite daring to breathe. Until he kisses my mouth and hooks his finger inside me.
I arch and contract around him. We both jolt.
“Fuck,” he breathes out. “Here, huh?” He does it again, hitting a spot that’s somehow indecently, massively perfect. My entire body blooms with heat, thrums from the intensity of it.
“Oh myGod, Jack, you—”
He does it some more, and I lose any ability to speak. His kisses deepen, become more aggressive, but I am too lost in the pleasure shooting up to my brain, too uncoordinated to return them in any meaningful way. He realizes it, I think, because he groans in the back of his throat, and his other hand moves between my shoulder blades and he pulls me into his chest, a soft creature he scooped up from the floor, squirming under him, melting between his fingers, utterly defenseless. “I imagined being with you like this a lot. But, Elsie, this is unreal. You areunreal.” His lips trail across my cheek. “When I get inside you, I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” he pants against the shell of my ear, like it’s too dirty to say out loud, even alone in a dark room.
“Youareinside me—”
“You know what I mean.” He bites my lobe. His hand caresses up and down my spine, a soothing touch that’s the polar opposite of the slick mess between my legs. “Two?”
I swallow. My thighs are starting to tremble, and a frightening thought occurs to me: I mightcomefrom this. I might actually havean orgasm. I might lose all control and a fair bit of dignity, in front of someone else. In front ofthissomeone else.
“Elsie? One finger okay? Or you want more?”
I don’t know. No. Yes. I shake my head and blindly grab his arm, digging my nails into him. His biceps is an oak tree, no give to the heavy muscles, and I feel less stranded. Anchored.
I want more of this. Of Jack. But I’m already full, bursting at the seams. “You have really big hands,” I say, and Idon’tsay,I like your hands. I love your hands. I watch your hands.
“Okay.” He wets his lips against mine. We’re drawing a map together, of a place neither of us has visited. “Okay, let’s stick with one.”
“I think...” I cup his cheek. Make sure my eyes are on his. “I think we should go to bed. Have sex. Real sex.”
He laughs, strained. “I think you should let me go on my knees and eat you out until tomorrow morning.”
God.God.I shake my head, dizzy, warm, dazzled. “Let’s just have sex. You—you can’t be enjoying this,” I tell him around a moan. I clearly am. Enjoying it.
“You sure?” He angles me a little, and there is no mistaking the hot bulge of his cock against my hip.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not—I’m not even doing anything. If we went to bed, I could—”
“You make soft little sounds. You shift your hips when I do—ah, yes. This. And these tiny spasms around my finger, which make me think of you clenching around my cock. Given how tight you are, it isn’t happening anytime soon, but—” He closes his eyes and takes a deep, undone breath. “Sorry.”
His rhythm on my clit is picking up, and I’m fading fast, all shallow breathing and spotty vision. “Sorry?”
“Just trying to get a grip.”
“You don’t have to get a grip. You can take me upstairs and—”
My channel contracts around him and we both groan. “You sure you don’t want two fingers, Elsie?”
I let my shoulders fall back against the window. It’s wet with my sweat, not cold anymore. “We should try.”
He watches himself this time. He stares at his index finger disappearing inside me alongside the middle, his other hand drawing calming patterns on my waist. I clench and gasp and twist on him, but he doesn’t let up, keeps pushing in slowly, and after some resistance, I’m taking him, arching involuntarily to make room, letting out a final little noise of gratitude and disbelief.
“Jesus,” Jack says. “Fuck.”
I’m getting used to it. This sense of being crammed with something hot and beautiful. I move experimentally. Squeeze around him till we both make sounds that belong to animals.
“Good?”
I nod. The edges of my vision are blurry. “Good.”
