Love to Love Her YAC (30 page)

“Let me just get a condom,” I murmur as I
drag my lips against her skin. I start to reach for the nightstand
drawer, but she puts her hands on my shoulders to stop me.

“I’m on the pill now,” she whispers.

“Seriously?” She nods.

I pause, appraising the gleam in her eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to use one?” I ask after a moment.

She pulls me down next to her mouth and says
softly in my ear, “I’m sure.” I quiver from the chill that shoots
straight up my spine.
Good enough for me
. Unable to wait any
longer, I haul her up against the side wall and hitch her long legs
around my torso. I lock my hands beneath her butt and lean her back
against the wall before plowing into her, burying myself as deep
inside her as I can possibly get. She shrieks out my name as I lift
and lower her over my cock and press my pelvic bone against her
clit, grinding against her with every ounce of strength I have
within me.

I feel Rhiannon’s muscles clenching around my
length as she comes; she quivers in my arms, and her head falls
forward onto my shoulder. I slow down my rocking and bite down hard
on my lower lip to ward off my own release – it takes nothing short
of Herculean might to keep from coming right along with her.

I lower Rhiannon back onto the bed and wait
for her to stop shaking. She gazes into my eyes, a look of
confusion mixing with her expression of euphoria. “You feel so
fucking good, babe,” I say into her ear before pulling her earlobe
between my teeth, determined to let her know how close I am.

Rhiannon – Thursday, 9:45 PM

B
lake draws back to
look at me while ripples of ecstasy continue to pulse through my
body. He’s still rock hard inside me, and I can see the desire
burning in his eyes as he watches me. “You okay if we keep going?”
he asks softly.

Instead of responding with words, I flip over
on top of him. He groans when he slides out of me, but quickly I
straddle him and lower back down on top of him, taking him inside
me. I slide my knees forward so they’re on the bed behind him, then
lean all the way back so my back is against his thighs. I pull on
his biceps, urging him to thrust into me, and he’s more than
willing to oblige. He leans forward so his head is centered over my
chest and licks at my nipples as he kneads my breasts.

A few minutes later, Blake, now in a frenzy
the likes of which I’ve never witnessed, rolls us over so I’m on my
back and he’s lying on top of me. He shoves into me rhythmically,
and I can feel my body inching backward along the mattress toward
the foot of the bed with each thrust. We reach the edge of the bed
just as I reach my own edge for the second time tonight, and one
look at Blake tells me he’s ready to explode as well.

Just as I begin to teeter on the brink of
climax, Blake drives me backward with one more heated push, and my
head, shoulders and arms collapse over the edge of the mattress,
the backs of my hands trailing against the scratchy carpet below.
Blood rushes to my head, and tingles of ecstasy spread from my
center and overtake my upper body, causing me to experience an
orgasm unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Blake throbs inside
me as he comes, and his entire body is racked with intense
shivers.

He draws me back up onto the bed before I can
start to feel lightheaded and lays his head against my glistening
chest. We’re both panting and slick with sweat, completely
spent.

Blake – Thursday, 10:30 PM

R
hiannon is lying on
her stomach with her head turned toward me, sound asleep. I draw
light circles on her shoulder blade as I watch the gentle rise and
fall of her narrow shoulders. I haven’t been able to take my eyes
off her for the past half an hour, ever since she drifted off to
sleep. I want to cradle her up against me, but I’m afraid to wake
her by moving her – she looks so peaceful.

As I stare at her beautiful features and
remember what she looked like when she was in the throes of
passion, I can feel something bubbling up from deep, deep within
me. It’s the stirrings of something beyond mere fondness or
affection. It’s the beginnings of something much more profound than
that.

Blake – 5:30 PM

I
was on edge all
day thinking about this weekend. I delayed leaving for Sacramento
as long as possible, dreading not only the drive but the
confrontation waiting for me on the other end of it. Knowing how
things have been lately between Jordan and me doesn’t make it any
easier to think about giving up on a relationship I’ve worked at
for so long. It’s an admission of personal defeat, and it would be
damn near unbearable if it wasn’t for the simultaneous feeling of
rushing headfirst into a vortex I can’t imagine ever wanting out of
with Rhiannon.

I told Jordan I would meet her at a bar and
grill downtown called Max Patch at eight. My plan is to break it
off with her at some point before the end of the evening – exact
timing and choice of words to be determined. Then I’ll go to my
mom’s house and crash on the couch before getting an early start
back in the morning. I already called Mom to let her know to expect
me. She seemed bewildered at the idea of me staying there, and
understandably so—ever since I left home, I’ve always stayed at
Jordan’s place when I’ve visited.

The ride is a relatively easy one since US 50
goes all the way there. When I first moved to Carson City after
graduating from UNLV instead of going back to Sacramento with
Jordan, I tried to help her feel better about the distance by
reminding her that I just lived “down the street” from her. I would
point to a map and call attention to the fact our apartments were
technically situated on different parts of the same road. In the
end it hadn’t done much to ease her suffering (or mine), and I’m
only just now realizing that move was the beginning of the end for
us. Still, I can’t regret it. Whenever I start to, a set of
beautiful caramel colored eyes flash in my subconscious, reminding
me why that move was still the best one I ever made.

A light rain patters against the windshield
as I pass the city limits, and I turn the wipers on intermittent to
clear the watery blur, straining to see as my headlights knife
through the smoggy drizzle. The closer I get the more nervous I
feel. I begin drumming my fingers against the steering wheel,
beating out the disorderly rhythm to a song that hasn’t been
written.

Max Patch sits along one of the most heavily
trafficked corridors in the city, the entrance marked with neon
green lettering and a kidney bean shape that could be a jalapeno
pepper or a pickle—or maybe it’s a jelly bean. I shoot into a
parking garage the next block up and park on the top floor,
suddenly too eager to get in there and get this over with to care
much about prime parking or the exorbitant fee being charged by the
superintendent.

The rain pelts against me, falling heavier
now as I hustle back the way I came, my hands shoved deep in my
pockets in an effort to keep warm. I push through the glass door
into the bar and begin searching for Jordan.

“Blake! Blake, over here!”

I spin, and my heart sinks the moment I find
her.
Shit
. Jordan is here, but so are six or seven other
people. She didn’t tell me this was going to be a fucking
party
. I cross over to the full table, plastering an
artificial smile on my face as I recognize a number of the people
we used to hang out with in high school—Mark, Jerry and Michelle,
Alan and Faye, plus Jordan’s friend Cherish.

Jordan stands up and rushes toward me,
beaming. She’s in jeans and a white turtleneck, and her long brown
hair is twisted up in a loose bun the way I’ve told her I like it.
She launches herself at me with more enthusiasm than she’s
exhibited in over a year, and I can’t help but cringe at the fact
she’s probably putting on a show for the people around the
table.

I hug her back awkwardly before turning my
attention to the miniature class reunion taking place ten feet away
from us. Mark stands up to slap me a double high five, and I feel
as if I’ve been swept back to tenth grade.

“Hell yeah, the gang’s all here!” says Alan.
“First round of shots on me!” I glance over at Jordan making googly
eyes at me and immediately agree. Yeah, I could use one of
those.

Rhiannon – 9:30 PM

B
lake is home
visiting his mom this weekend, so I’ve decided to take a
well-deserved night off, much to the annoyance and disappointment
of Ruthie and Corinne. After the (wonderful and amazing) beating my
poor body has taken this week, I doubt anything could top a pan of
brownies, a glass of wine and a long soak in the tub.

I run scalding water for my bath and dump in
a liberal dose of lavender bath salts, then stand before the mirror
to pin my hair up on top of my head. As I turn to grab a clean
towel from the stack above the hamper, I catch a glimpse of my
naked body in the mirror, and I turn again to face my reflection.
My eyes scan downward, studying the swell of my breasts, the taper
of my waist, the curve of my hips and the V between my legs. I
remember the feel of Blake’s tongue on me and the sandpapery
coarseness of his stubbled cheek against my neck. A shiver rocks
through me as a wicked thought flits through my mind, and the
corner of my mouth curls into a devilish smirk.

I wrap the towel around my torso as I reach
for my phone lying on top of the toilet. I tap on the camera icon –
and then immediately set the phone down again as I remember
everything my mother ever said about sending personal information
across the internet. I’d be willing to wager this is
way
more personal than anything she’d been thinking of when she warned
me.

Sitting on the edge of the tub, I look down
at the fluffy towel I have wrapped around me.
Hmm… My knees look
uncommonly pink
. What if Blake is too put off by my splotchy
pink knees to fully appreciate my breasts? I peek under my towel.
My boobs are pretty nice...

Fuck it. Again I reach for my phone. What my
mother doesn't know can't hurt her.

Dropping the towel as I stand, I do another
brief mirror check. Besides the fact that I look melanin-deprived,
everything else looks fairly decent. Bending slightly at the waist,
I lean toward the mirror and arch my back, then cross one arm
beneath my boobs to push them up and in, accentuating my cleavage.
I spread my legs a little and lean into one hip, causing it to jut
out at a sharp angle.

Pouting my lips enough to show them off (but
not badly enough to give me duck lips) I angle the camera toward my
reflection and snap a picture. Standing up straight, I tap the
thumbnail to see how the photo turned out… Aaand I blinked.
Typical.

I shake my head, roll my shoulders back and
take a deep breath, then resume my pose. Take two turns out
better
, but I notice part of the toilet is on display in the
background. It is physically impossible to look sexy in the same
room as a toilet.

This seems to be failing miserably
. I
try a few more with my left arm raised above me, lengthening my
torso, and then a couple turned away from the mirror, my chin
hooked over my shoulder so my face is in profile. Feeling more
courageous, I start to lift my leg to position my foot on the
counter, but I end up losing my balance and falling on my ass
instead. The resulting cockeyed photo of my horrified facial
expression isn’t my favorite.

Ultimately I select two photos and attach
them to a text message. I hesitate before hitting Send, but only
for a second. My first-time foray into exhibitionism has been
humbling to say the least, but I’m sure Blake will appreciate the
fruits of my labor.

Finished with my brief lapse into narcissism,
I press play on my iPod and sink into the bathtub as the small room
fills with the melodic strumming of a Spanish guitar.

Blake – 9:45 PM

I
’m drunk. This
evening is definitely
not
going according to plan.

Jordan’s hand is resting on my thigh, where
it’s been slowly inching its way closer to my crotch ever since I
came back with a pitcher of beer half an hour ago. If I’m being
honest, it’s not like it isn’t just a little bit arousing – I
am
still a guy. Still, I’ve tried twisting and adjusting,
aware for the time being that something isn’t right about allowing
her to touch me like this. Unfortunately, so far she doesn’t seem
to be taking the hint.

I’m laughing as Jerry tells a story about
Michelle’s dad walking in on them having sex when they first
started dating, and I almost spill my beer in my lap when my phone
vibrates in my pocket. I fish it out and see the text message from
Rhiannon. My blood instantly starts pounding, causing my head to
throb, and I’m afraid everyone at the table can read the guilty
expression on my face.

At any rate, this is just the excuse I needed
to get up and get Jordan’s roaming hands off me. I excuse myself to
go to the restroom and don’t open the text until I’m locked safely
inside one of the stalls. When the photos pop up on my phone’s
screen my jaw drops to the floor. Rhiannon sent me
naked
pictures of herself
. Fuck she’s hot. I happen to know, though,
that this little four inch screen still doesn’t do her justice.

My breathing comes out in short bursts as I
send her a reply:

What are you trying to do to me?

I can’t stop looking at the pictures as I’m
taking a leak, which is probably slightly creepy. When I’m finished
I bury my head in the crook of my elbow and lean forward against
the wall, continuing to touch myself for longer than is strictly
necessary. The images have branded themselves on the backs of my
eyelids so they’re all I see when I close my eyes.