She broke the kiss, eyes wild. “That’s… It’s a lot.”
“Want me to stop?”
“God, no,” she said, and her hands found my chest, urgent now. She tried to pull my shirt off, but her hands shook. I let her, helping when she got stuck on the sleeves, then tossed it to the floor.
She stared at the ink and the scars—burns, cuts, the shrapnel I’d never bothered to get removed. She reached out, traced a long, puckered line with her finger, slow and reverent.
“This hurt?” she asked.
“Used to,” I said. “Not now.”
She leaned in and kissed it, so gentle I barely felt it. Then she kissed up, to my collarbone, then my neck, her breath hot and uneven. I let her take the lead, let her learn the shape of me.
She pulled off her hoodie, and I helped her with the T-shirt, leaving her in a plain black bra that made her look even more vulnerable. Her ribs showed, and there were more scars—needlemarks, surgery maybe, or accidents. I wanted to ask, but she was already kissing me again, pushing me back into the couch.
She straddled my lap, and I felt the heat of her even through my jeans. I slid my hands up her sides, feeling her shudder, then unclipped the bra with one hand. She laughed, surprised, as it fell away.
“You did that fast.”
“Old habit,” I said, and she laughed again, burying her face in my neck. I was struggling to go slow, not to bend her over the couch and take her to a place she would never forget.
Her breasts were small, perfect, the nipples dark and already tight. I ran my tongue across one, then sucked it between my lips, and she gasped so loud I thought she’d startle herself. She ground her hips against me, all nerves and hunger, and I could feel her getting wetter through the fabric of her leggings.
She bucked when I pinched her nipple, then caught my face in her hands and pulled me up for a kiss so desperate it felt like a plea. Her tongue was clumsy but hungry, and I let her take what she wanted.
She moved her hands down, fumbling with my belt. I stopped her, slow, then knelt between her legs and peeled down the waistband of her leggings, one inch at a time.
She squirmed, nervous, then said, “I’m not sure I’m any good at this.”
I grinned. “You will be.”
She lay back, breathing hard, legs parted and trembling. I kissed my way down her stomach, stopping at her hip bone, then nuzzled the inside of her thigh. Her smell was raw, electric, sweat and skin and need. I pulled down the leggings, then her panties, leaving her open and shaking.
I looked up. “You okay?”
She nodded, but her eyes were glassy. “Just… don’t stop.”
I spread her knees and let my tongue find her, slow at first, then faster when she started to move. She tasted sharp, tangy, not sweet, but I loved it. Her hand found the back of my head, fingers twisting in my hair, and when I slipped a finger inside her, she bucked, almost off the couch.
She came fast, a full-body spasm, legs squeezing my head like she wanted to crush it. She cried out, then bit her own wrist to muffle the sound. When it ended, she lay back, dazed, staring at the ceiling like she’d just solved a new law of physics. The couch would have to be cleaned… later.
I crawled up, kissed her, let her taste herself on her lips. She smiled, giddy, then tackled me with arms and legs, rolling us over so I was pinned beneath her.
“Your turn,” she said, and the way she said it was part command, part promise.
She slid down, awkward at first, kissing my chest, my stomach, then working at my belt again. She got it and pulled down my jeans, eyes wide at what she found.
She wrapped her hand around me, soft at first, then firmer when she saw my reaction. She leaned in and licked, tentative, then took the head in her mouth. She choked, pulled back, laughed, then tried again, more confident.
“Is it okay?” she asked, eyes gleaming in the darkness.
“You’re doing fine,” I said. “Slow and steady wins the race.”
She giggled and went back to work.
It was her determination that did it, the way she refused to give up or slow down. I lasted longer than I should have, but not much. I warned her, but she didn’t pull away, just swallowed and then wiped her mouth, beaming.
She climbed back up and curled against me, her head on my chest, her hand tracing circles over my heart.
