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“You’ve never— I’m your first?”
“Yes.”
A darkness flickers through his eyes.
“Spit on your hand and run it up and down my shaft. Suck my head as deep as you can at the same time, in a rhythm.”
I do as he’s asked, and he uses one hand to help me find the right rhythm.
“Yes, Marci, that’s it. That’s so fucking good. Just go a little slower,” he says. “You’re so good at that, Angel. How are you so good?”
I color at the praise. I bask in it. I want to give him as much pleasure as he’s given me. Jesse’s impossibly thick, but I do as he tells me, and I love that he’s putty in my hands. He’s ready to fall apart, his thigh muscles twitching the closer I bring him to the edge.
“I’m so close. I’m so fucking close,” he groans.
His cock pops free of my lips, and I hover over him, holding him by the base of his dick. I lower myself onto him, carefully, so that he doesn’t get hurt.
“Marci, what are you doing to me? I’m fucking lost.”
I play with myself as I ride him, focused on his face, the way his eyes flicker up and down, left and right, taking me in, hazy with his desire.
“I’m going to come, Angel,” he says, words halting. “I’m going to?—”
“Me too, baby.”
And then he’s rock hard inside me, his hand on my breast, squeezing as we ride through our orgasms together. I cry out, and he moans my name, over and over again.
Afterward, I get up gently, then go to the bathroom, clean up, wet a towel, and come back to the bedroom. I wash him gently, and he stares at me.
“Angel,” he says. “You’re amazing.”
“You are too.”
And I’m afraid, so afraid of what that means and how much things have changed, but not scared enough to stay away from him. Once we’re clean, I lie down next to him and press gentle kisses to his cheek and temple and earlobe.
We fall into an easy sleep together, the lights still on, and our bodies touching.
Forty-Two
JESSE
It hurtsto breathe too deeply, but I can move around fine. The medic gave me strict instructions not to avoid breathing fully, which seems counterintuitive, but the woman knows better than me.
I stand in the kitchen and force myself to take a deep breath, then wince and exhale.
“Ah, fuck,” I murmur. “That’s not fun.”
Mr. Skitters meows at me from the recliner.
“And good morning to you too,” I say.
He hops off the recliner and shocks me by coming into the kitchen and standing close by, expectantly.
“Food, huh? When isn’t it food?”
I grab a treat from the cupboard under the sink, then bend and place it in the palm of my hand.
Mr. Skitters comes over and eats it, crunching loudly and spattering my palm with little chunks. Both gross and cute. Afterward, he licks my palm and then rubs the side of his face against my hand, and I’m so excited I want to yell for Marci. But she’s still asleep.
