He pushed his finger inside me slowly, so very slowly, as our tongues met, dancing between our mouths.
I broke off the kiss as his finger moved in and out of me—shallow, then deep, just like his kiss—to tell him, “Like that. Just like that.”
My hips lifted again, his finger getting wetter and wetter, giving him the confidence to insert another as our lips met again.
“What's this?” He broke off the kiss, fingers catching on a bump inside me.
“I d-d-don't kn-know,” I stuttered as his fingers, with slight added pressure, rubbed overthe unknown ridge again.
“Do you like it when I rub it?” he asked, his voice close to my ear.
A suckle on my lobe as I nodded. Another rub.
A noise began sounding between my legs, the wetness slurping down on his fingers. Moans danced on my tongue—a Charleston I couldn't keep up with. I tried to keep them hushed.
I felt a tightening in my stomach, in my core, and then I felt saturated.
My moans got louder as my climax hit, muffled by Woodrow's mouth, as he moved back to mine and swallowed them all.
He didn't stop, even as my body drenched his hand. He continued until I went limp, his hardness still jabbing into my thigh, long legs wrapped around mine.
It took a minute for my shaking to subside, and then I pushed him back, lying him down on the bed, wobbling into a semblance of balance between his legs.
I touched him through his underwear, enjoying the feel of him, adjusting the memories in my head, and altering them forever. Before having to see the part of him that caused me pain. It wouldn't be like that when I pulled him free. Touching him would be the action to set me free.
My hand moved to his shaft. He twitched under my touch, like his cock wanted more of my hand. I leaned over him, gentle kisses starting at his stomach, moving up to his shoulders, to his throat, causing him to panic. He stopped breathing. But my touch was gentle, loving.
“I won't hurt you. I promise.”
His eyes fluttered closed, giving me undying trust. Giving permission. I kissed, suckling lightly, praying he felt acceptance, love, and absolutely no pain.
I felt his cock twitch again, then a warmth. Something hot and sticky coated my palm as it seeped through his shorts.
“Shit. Oh, shit!” He jumped up, almost head-butting me off the bed. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That wasn't meant to happen.” His hands rushed to his crotch, concealing the reason for the embarrassment that had brought a pretty shade of pink to his cheeks. “I'm sorry. . .”
“Woodrow,” I spoke softly, leaning in. “It's okay. . . it happens.”
“You're not mad? Not disappointed?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Just a little cold now that the moment has passed.” My nipples confirmed, brushing against his naked chest.
“I'll get you something.” He rushed from the bed, his drawers open in seconds. He scanned through the clothes and decided on another tee with a band logo. He tossed it to me, looking almost sad as I hid my body behind my hands because my confidence left the bed the same time he did.
“You look amazing. You don't need to hide.”
I slipped under the covers, leaving the t-shirt atop the sheets. “We could always sleep this way?”
The embarrassment left his face, pushed away by a genuine smile. “Sounds good.” He dropped the clean boxers he was holding back into the drawer, and he didn't bother to close it. He dipped below the covers, waiting until the sheets hid him to strip bare.
I turned on my side, ass niggling into his groin as he shifted into position to spoon me.
His genitals, so close to mine, brought a little fear hiking to my chest, but I swallowed it back as he kissed my shoulder with loving lips. I breathed deeply, relaxing as his arm locked around me.
“Love this. Love you,” he mouthed against my skin.
I held on to him, my fingers pulling his hand to my heart. “You're the reason I'm happy this is still beating.”
He kissed me again, and a silent moment later, we were both asleep.
