We were grinding against each other, groaning and panting and muttering about heaven. I never wanted it to end. The tips of my fingers trailed down his back, my short nails digging in just a little. When his tongue traced the edge of my bra, teasing the sensitive skin in my cleavage, I just about lost it completely. And the feel of him. Sweet baby Jesus, the feel of him hard, rubbing against the crotch of my jeans.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he whispered into my skin, nibbling at my jawline, making his way back to my mouth.

“Mm?”

“What time do you have to be home?”

“Huh? No. Don’t stop.”

He swore some more. Then, in a very calm and reasonable voice, said, “Edie, I need to put my hand in your pants.”

“Yes.”

He paused. “You sure?”

I nodded, stomach and thigh muscles tight, everything low in my belly beyond excited. “Please. John.”

John sat back on his heels, hair hanging in his face. God, he looked beautiful, disheveled and half-naked by moonlight. I don’t know how I got so lucky. He undid the button and zipper on my jeans, then tugged them down a little.

He lowered himself back over me, taking all of his weight on one arm strategically placed beside my head. Hot, damp lips kissed mine, teeth nipping at my bottom lip. Next he brought his free hand to his mouth and sucked on a couple of fingers, getting them wet.

“Going to get you off quickly, because you got to go home. You’re still grounded, remember?”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.” His hand slid into my panties, fingers brushing over my swollen sex, dipping slightly into the wetness. “Edie. Baby, that feels so fucking good.”

The boy had no idea. Tips of his fingers teasing me, skimming over the lips down there. Beyond good and well into great territory. He lifted his hand back to his mouth, licking his thumb, before diving back into my underwear. My body jolted.

“John,” I moaned, stretching my neck, turning my head to the side. Might have just been me, but we seemed to be running low on air. Or maybe my lungs weren’t quite working. My breasts heaved, mouth open wide. Everything in me centered on what he was doing to me, how incredible he was making me feel.

“I know,” he said, voice low and rumbling. “I’ll get you there.”

First he circled my clit with the pad of his thumb, knuckles brushing lightly across all that sensitive flesh. My breasts ached, belly just about turning inside out. All I could do was clutch at him—his shoulders, his arms, whatever I could grab. Hold him tight and keep him with me, now and always.

“There we go.” His lips brushed my earlobe.

The tension inside me built higher and higher, winding me tight and taking me over. One heel dug into the seat, the other pushing against the floor. My whole body pushing into his fingers, needing to get as close as possible.

“Like that?” he asked, the pad of his thumb working me a little harder, faster.

“Yes. Don’t stop,” I said, voice almost gone, lost.

“No. I won’t stop.”

“God,” I gritted out, bucking against his hand, back arching. “John.”

The whole world fell away. There was just me and him and . . . fuck. Every inch of my body floated, stars filling my head. I lay crashed out on the backseat of John’s car, flying. No wonder some people were so into sex. With the right person, it could be amazing. Even just a hand job.

I opened my eyes to find him staring down at me, shoulders high, breathing hard. “Well, this is embarrassing.”

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just . . .”

“You just?” I asked, heart and lungs slowly returning to normal. The sheen of sweat on me and the fogged-up windows, I could do nothing about.

He frowned at me and I frowned at him. Though my frown no doubt came with a loved-up smile.

He nodded downward. “I’m kind of a mess.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“Hmm.” Moving slowly, carefully, and still with a frown, he sat back on his haunches. “I was watching you and . . . anyway.”

“I think it shows solidarity, commitment to the relationship.” I tried not to grin. But I didn’t try very hard. “Really.”

“You think me coming in my jeans shows solidarity?”

I just shrugged. “I love you.”

“You love . . .” The edge of his mouth curled upward. Suddenly, he shook it off. “We need to get you home before your mom freaks and decides I’m not allowed inside the door or something.”

He started searching around for his T-shirt, finally finding it on the floor. Then he undid his pants and cleaned up. I couldn’t see much, but still. Was it wrong that I found the whole process fascinating? If so, I didn’t want to be right.

I fiddled with my underwear, yanked my jeans back up, and wriggled into a sitting position. Next, I searched for my T-shirt. “I like the backseat of your car.”

“Yeah?” His smile, it slayed me.

“Oh yeah.”

He leaned in for a kiss and I gave it to him. Boy did I give it to him. And then some.

Cold air washed over us when he opened the door, stepping back out into the big, wide world. His nipples puckered since he remained without a tee, understandably. I climbed out too, opening the other door wide so the fogged-up windows would clear faster.

John walked me over to my car, his strong hand rubbing my back.

“Drive carefully,” he said. “I won’t be far behind you.”

“You don’t need to follow me home. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

I shrugged. “Okay. You drive carefully too.”

“I will.” He didn’t move until I was safely buckled into my car. “Edie?”

“Hmm?”

“Me too. On the . . . you know.”

I cocked my head. “You mean the love thing?”

“Yeah. That.”

My boyfriend.

Who knew I loved him and who apparently loved me too.

I smiled the whole way home.

 

 

Hang: Emergency. Send help. I think I have actual feelings for Anders.

Me: Wait. You mean beyond your usual mild annoyance?

Hang: YES

Me: OMG

Hang: It’s not my fault. He got in somehow. Like a virus…a really bad one. What do I do?