A third finger traces where our bodies are meeting, and it’s the only thing I can comprehend.
“Three.”
“Three?” He repeats the number with shock on his face. By the time I’ve registered what I’ve said, that he wouldn’t be able to get anything but this last orgasm out of me, his eyes are already pointed in challenge.
“How about three each?” His third finger reaches into me, movements turning rougher and less careful. My hips are rocking on their own, rutting in his hand and chasing the pleasure that’s so, so close.
“Three with my mouth,” he starts to explain, “Three with my fingers.” He’s pounding relentlessly into the spot that sends my toes curling, uncaring of how loud I’m becoming or how harshly I’m gripping his pricey bedsheets.
I can’t keep my eyes open anymore, shutting them to find the orgasm I’m on the cusp of.
Grant doesn’t ask me to look at him, his left hand pushing my shirt up around my breasts so he can tug on my nipple roughly.
There’s a gravelly tone in his voice. “And three orgasms, you do yourself, and I’m going to talk you through it. Fist my cock while I make you come with my words.”
The image is vivid. Grant sitting across from me, hand wrapped around himself and veins popping while he works over the skin. Head thrown back. Deep collarbones on display while he watches me lay myself out bare for him.
My orgasm slams through me. I arch my back and follow the motions of his hands, in and out of my slit, pulling on the flesh ofmy chest. I moan out his name more times than I can count. It’s the only thing I can remember during the white heat of coming.
Grant’s fingers slow when the shaking in my thighs calm. He pulls his hand from between my legs, keeping his sinister eyes locked on me when he licks the come off his fingers.
My breathing hasn’t steadied yet when he speaks, “That was one with my fingers. First two were with my mouth.”
For the first time tonight his ghost touches aren’t used on me. His hand lightly trails the waistband of his pajama pants, inches away from the bulge I desperately want to touch. I watch his movements like an addict. I’ve never wanted anything or anyone this badly.
His left hand stays on my breast, massaging over the skin while his right reaches behind the fabric of his pants and grips himself. Teasing, I can see the outline of his hand moving up and listen to his voice catching when he talks.
“Six orgasms left, baby. Which one do you want next?”
eighteen
LILIANA
When I finally,hesitantly, trudge home to my own apartment on Monday, Rosie is sitting on the couch with a large mug of coffee and an even bigger grin. I remind her I’m running late for class and don’t have the time to hear her “I told you so”.
Still, she calls at my retreating back as I’m closing my bedroom door, “I knew you were fucking!”
The next day, when she’s comfortably lying next to me on my bed, phone propped against the wall with Kameron on video call, she mentions it again.
“I knew you were full of shit when you said you weren’t fucking.”
“Please, be a little more sympathetic for me.” Kam’s voice edges from the speaker of my phone, dramatic but humorous. “I’m still mourning this loss.”
I laugh. “First of all, we aren’t doing that.” Both roll their eyes.
It’s not a lie. Is it? What Grant and I did was intimate and pleasure-filled, but it wasn’t what they think. Not totally. He stopped before we could go there.
“Secondly, I did not call a group meeting to talk about my sex life. I’m giving you both the details at the same time so I don’t have to repeat myself later.”
Hours are spent recalling the events of the weekend, how and why everything happened, rehashing the parts that send my friends screaming and jumping away from the phone in shock. I keep the most intimate things to myself. Specifically, the details of how well Grant can use his hands.
They don’t need to know all of that. The swoon worthy Lily nickname and sketchbook confession are more than enough to satisfy their need for gossip.
For a few days, at least.
On Thursday night, Kameron arrives fifteen minutes early for his shift just to bug me over the café counter.
“You haven’t seen him at all since Monday?!”
