Experiencing it together.
46
Lennon
IholdConnor’slimpbody and stroke the side of his face gently. I’m on my back and he’s draped over me. “Are you okay, baby?” I ask.
The biggest, dopiest smile of all time takes control of his lips and cheeks, yanking them upward. “You just called me baby.”
I toy with the idea of telling him it’s not a big deal because I’m pretty sure I know what his reply will be, and I love it. I hardcore love it. I don’t, though, because he has me all soft inside, and I want to make him feel as good as I do when he says it to me.
So instead, I say, “I did,” and kiss him on his forehead. “It’s the first time it happened…and it’s a big deal because you and I are a big deal.”
His eyes dampen and he tightens the grip he has on me. We lie like that for a while before he remembers that I asked him a question.
“I’m better than okay,” he says quietly.
“Are you sure? It was a little rougher than I thought it would be. I was, like, planning to be all romantic and shit.”
Humor darts around his face, lighting up everything it touches. “Oh yeah? And what happened?”
“I, er, I kind of lost it…I saw you naked, and…” I make a fluttering motion with my hand. “My self-control went out the window.”
He chuckles softly. “I get it. Mine got away from me too.” He strokes my chest, working his way over my pecs. He captures a nipple without any serious intent and rolls it a few times before tweaking it gently. Tiny sparks flare. “Jesus. I couldn’t get enough of you. I was feral.”
I smile at the juxtaposition of the sweetest man I’ve ever met calling himself feral. “Was it okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, it was perfect.”
Oof.God yes. I like this kind of talk.
My lungs inflate and a deep sense of satisfaction expands my ribcage. “Perfect?”
“Yeah. It was perfect. Seriously, I’ve never come that hard before.”
“Never?” I raise my head and angle it so I can see him better. He looks calm and serene. A blue-green gaze hits me between the eyes and tells me the truth.
“No. Never. That was the best fuck of my life, Lennon.”
“Oh God.” My ego is a massive, gigantic fan of this kind of talk. Can’t get enough of it. Wants to eat it all up and have seconds and thirds. “Say it again.”
He swats me and tweaks my nipple hard enough to get a squeal out of me, so I wrestle him onto his back, holding him down by the wrists to subdue him.
He looks good like this. Handsome and happy. Well-fucked and naked. The bedside light plays with his hair and lights adusty shadow on his forehead and cheeks. I rub my nose gently against his.
“Have I ever told you that I like your freckles?”
His eyes shine impossibly brightly. “No, you haven’t mentioned it.”
“Well, I do. I like them a lot. I’m kind of crazy about them, actually.” I drop a kiss on the tip of his nose and then a couple on his forehead. “Want to kiss every single one of them… You know what? I’m going to do it. I’m going to kiss every single freckle on your body.”
“You can’t.” His laugh unravels into something husky and soft. “I have way too many of them.”
“What are you talking about? Of course I can. All I have to do is be smart about it. I have to cordon off little sections of you, like this”—I draw a line down his forehead near his temple and along his right eyebrow, and circle the space I’ve created—“and kiss the freckles in that section. It’s simple. If I do it every night, in a few months, I’ll have kissed every freckle you have. No biggie.”
I shift my hips and climb a little higher up his body to improve my angle, and set to work planting kisses from left to right on every freckle along his eyebrow.
He squirms under me, helpless from laughter and from the position I have him in. “What are you doing?”
