I put my phone on a shelf, flashlight aimed at the ceiling, casting everything in strange, slanting shadows. Andi leans against the mats, half-sitting, legs wide enough to make her skirt ride up and show off the garters.
“I’m starting to think you have a flashlight fetish,” she says, head tilted to one side.
“If anything, I have aseeing what I’m doingfetish.”
“Weird,” she teases, and I step between her legs and kiss her again. This time it’s desperate and hot, her hand grabbing the front of my shirt, the other palming my cock through my jeans again. I get her under the thighs and hike her up onto the mats properly so she can wrap her legs around my hips.
“You look good like this,” she says. “I wanted to tell you. This fucking shirt.”
Her hand is on my dick again and I grind into it, swallowing a groan.
“My shirt?” I manage, and she laughs breathlessly.
“I don’t know,” she says, and her skirt’s around her waist now, and she’s wearing black lace underwear, too, and—God. Andiplannedthis. Hours ago. Getting ready in her bedroom at her aunt’s house she thought about how she wanted tonight to go and she put on garter tights and black lace. No one has ever been luckier than me. “It just—shows off your arms and your shoulders look ridiculous and then you rolled up the sleeves and were just, like, standing around withforearms,” she says.
I don’t know what she’s talking about, but I plant my thumb on black lace, right where I figure her clit is, and circle it. I must be right because she makes a noise and her head goes back, her throat working. When I kiss her again she groans softly, so I take a second and push my fingers under the lace, where she’s hot and slick and pushes her hips into me.
“Fuck, Andi, you love this,” I say, and even in the bad light I can see that she’s flushed pink, her lips parted, her eyes glazed. I lean in even closer, push her thighs a little further apart with my other hand, and she arches her back, breathing hard. “You wanted it.”
“Well,” she manages. “Yeah.”
I feel like there’s something unspooling deep in my brain, some sort of instinctual logic. Some primal urge. I plant my hand by her waist and sink two fingers into her, crooking them harder than usual, the heel of my hand on her clit. Andi gasps and jolts and swears, but then she grabs my wrist and grinds herself against the palm of my hand and hisses, “Fuck, Gideon.”
“You have to be quiet,” I tell her. “No matter how good it feels. You think you can do that?”
“Maybe,” she says. “Are you really gonna stop if I get too loud?”
Probably not.
“Don’t,” I say, and pop the button on my jeans. It’s pure relief, and God, the look in Andi’s eyes.
“But it feels so good,” she says, and looks me straight in the eyes. My brain goes blank. “What if I can’t help myself?”
I inhale, I think.
“If I’m saying your name and begging you to make me come, are you gonna stop?” she goes on, flushed and her eyes half-closed and teasing me like this. “I think you’d like that.Fuck,” she adds as I grind into her clit a little harder, twist my fingers.
“Don’t get us caught,” I say, and palm my dick a little because God, it fuckingaches. Sparks fly up my spine, and she’s watching my hand as I close it loosely around myself and stroke. “God, Andi, you look—”
She’s still got her hand around my wrist and one foot up on the mats, using the leverage to grind her clit against the heel of my hand. Her bottom lip is between her teeth and her eyes are going out of focus. I’m dizzyingly hard, leaking into the fabric of my boxers.
“There are condoms in my purse,” she says, and I go still. She swallows. “If you want. I know we haven’t, but…”
Andi makes the softest noise when I pull my fingers out of her, then points to the floor beside the mats. I grab her purse and hand it to her, because I know better than to rifle through purses.
In high school, I made a purity pledge, and I meant it. It’s easy to mean things like that when you’re fifteen and have no prospects, but standing here, at thirty-two, I take a second to let the last tatters of it float away. I feel a little bad about not keeping a promise, but I shouldn’t have promised in the first place.
When she hands me the condom she’s got this flushed little grin on her face, like we’re getting away with something, like it’s exhilarating. I put a hand on her jaw and kiss her, slow and hard enough that I can’t help but groan into her mouth.
“This is a bad idea,” I tell her. I’m already opening the condom.
“You can say no,” she says. “I’d rather you say yes, but…”
I wrap a hand around my dick, boxers still on, and give myself a slow, hard pump. It makes my toes curl, makes my skin feel too small. Andi watches with bright-eyed lust, her thumbs hooked in the waist of her black panties.
“I’m saying yes,” I tell her, my voice half-broken. “But I’m also saying this is a bad idea.”
Andi gives me a smile and a shrug and then pulls her panties off, somehow, and I blink like it was a fucking magic trick.
