“You didn’t kiss me.”
It was a statement rather than an accusation.
“I know.”
“Will you kiss me now? A goodnight kiss?” She sat up, the tight vest she’d put on clinging to those curves, her nipples still visible through the material.
“I’ve never given someone a goodnight kiss.” I wasn’t ashamed of the words. My therapist would tell me to be proud of saying them.
Jerrica nodded. “Then let me show you something. I’ve never done anything like what we did on that chair before.”
“How do you feel about it?” Because I didn’t want her to feel ashamed or embarrassed.
“Like I bossed my body. Or rather, you did.”
“But you let me. The moment you say stop, I do.”
She nodded, moving down the bed towards me on her knees. “I know. And the moment you say stop, I will.”
I’d never felt lightness from my shoulders, but I did then.
She raised high onto her knees, her hands grasping hold of my shoulders, her mouth slowly finding mine.
It wasn’t a kiss that was a prelude to sex. It was a kiss that promised everything and demanded nothing.
Rarely had I been able to trust someone. As a kid, I had me, and that was it. I’d spent a few nights when I was thirteen, fourteen sleeping rough. I’d sofa-surfed as a sixteen-year-old, found a hot meal where I could. Promises were made by family members, my mother, social workers, friends, and they were broken with more ease than it took to tear an aging love letter.
When my hands found Jerrica’s waist, her thin knickers doing nothing to hide the warmth from her skin, I didn’t have the urge to let go anytime soon.
Her kiss was chaste, soft, not that of a woman who wanted more right now.
“Get in bed with me.” She moved away, making me follow, getting under the sheets with her, her hand stretching out to turn off the final light. “I promise I won’t make any move on you.”
She turned on her side and curled into me, pulling one of my hands onto her and down to the soft sheets under us.
“Isn’t that a weird promise to make to a man?” My teammates would laugh if they ever heard those words.
“I don’t think anything is weird, Jesse. I just accept it.”
Her hair smelled of honeysuckle and summer. My eyes closed as I sank into the pillow, my body relaxing, her warmth enveloping me.
I decided not to overthink this. In the morning, I’d know what to do.
I woke to the scent of woman and fresh air, my brain taking a few minutes to become cognizant of where I was and who I was with.
It had been years since I’d woken up in the same room as someone else until this week, let alone the same bed. And definitely not with my arms wrapped round someone, my hand somehow under Jerrica’s top, my palm cupping her tit, my other hand under her body and then on her ass, over her knickers. Her head was lying on the top my chest, one of her hands on my hip.
My dick was hard.
It had now been months since I’d had sex, or an orgasm at anyone’s hand but my own. I knew the same was true for her until last night. In fact, she’d used those words.
If I slipped my hand lower on her ass, my fingers would be between her legs.
Was she wet?
Was she still asleep?
Her nipple was hard under my palm. I ran my finger over it, feeling it tighten. Her legs scooted higher up over my hip, nudging against my cock.
