Picking Up the Pieces (25 page)

Chapter 27: Lily

There is a reason February is shorter than the other months: it sucks
.
It’s cold and dark, and there are not nearly enough days off from work to compensate for February’s negative qualities. Other than the potential for a snow day—which we were blessed with on February 7th, resulting in an unexpected three-day weekend—and Presidents Day, February is all but void of anything to look forward to. Especially when you throw in the Hallmark money-grab known as Valentine’s Day.

             
For so many years, Valentine’s Day had just been another holiday I didn’t celebrate. It ranked right up there with Boxing Day and Day of the Dead as holidays I couldn’t give a shit less about. So it was strange to think that for the first time in probably six years, I would actually get to have someone wish me a happy Valentine’s Day. Well, someone legal, that is. I’m obviously not counting the handful of adolescent boys who ask me to marry them each year.

             
This
year was something different.
This
year I’d get to spend Valentine’s weekend with my
boyfriend
. I said the word aloud softly without even realizing it.

             
“What’d you say?” Adam reached across the center console to squeeze my thigh. Since he had apologized for not being a hundred percent honest, Adam had made a conscious effort to be especially loving and attentive. During the last few weeks, I’d felt closer than ever to him.

             
“I just said ‘my boyfriend.’” I leaned over to snuggle into him as he put his arm around me. I inhaled the smell of his fresh body wash and spicy aftershave: an intoxicating combination. I wanted to lick it off him. “I just like the sound of it, that’s all. My
boyfriend
,” I said again, enjoying the feeling of it on my tongue as it rolled off it.

“I like the sound of it too,” he said.
“And I like the thought of having you all to myself for an entire day and night. I can’t wait to show you the beach house. You’re gonna love it.”

“When do I get my gift?” I asked with an excitement equivalent of a child waiting at the top of the stairs on Christmas morning.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s better to give than to receive?” he asked playfully.

A warmth radiated inside me as the double meaning of his words sunk in. “Mmm . . . I guess not. I
am
very giving, but there’s something about being on the receiving end that just can’t be trumped.” I squirmed in my seat as I felt the wetness seep into my underwear. I couldn’t wait to jump out of this car and onto Adam. It’d been over a week since we’d slept together, and I was definitely feeling the side effects of our lack of sexual encounters.

Though I understood the reason for the week-long dry spell
. With Eva around most weeknights, it was difficult for Adam to get out of the house, even for an hour or so. We’d seen each other on my lunch break a few times, but with my days of an afternoon quickie long over, we’d used my lunch break to do just that: eat lunch. And though any time spent with Adam was enjoyable, I desperately needed the release that could only be triggered by hot, passionate sex. Abstinence was still abstinence, no matter how unintentional, and that only made me that much more thankful that Adam’s parents had agreed to stay with Eva so we could have the weekend together.

“You seem fidgety,” Adam said after I shifted in my seat again.

“Just trying to get comfortable.”
I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be in a position that caused my jeans to rub against my clit at just the right angle to keep me turned on, or sit in a way that had the opposite effect and hope that my arousal would die down enough that I could concentrate on something else. Anything else. Ultimately, I opted for the former. I was a glutton for punishment.

The car ride was filled with easy conversation and so much sexual tension I didn’t know if I could make it to Adam’s house without slipping a hand down my pants to relieve the pressure that had been building inside me.
Whether it was
his
hand or my own would have made very little difference.

***

“Do you want lunch before or after?” Adam asked as he unlocked the door to his house.

“Before or after what?” I asked confused.

“Before or after I do whatever it was you were thinking about in the car,” he said, closing the door and caging me against it with his arms.

Holy shit.
I swept my tongue across my dry lips to wet them. My legs wobbled and my breathing grew ragged as Adam’s green gaze penetrated me. I hoped another part of him would penetrate me soon. “After please,” I whispered.

In one rough motion, Adam scooped me up, urging my legs to wrap tightly around his waist, both for stability as he carried me down the hallway
, and also to achieve the stimulation that I’d been craving for the last hour and a half.
Fuck, I want him.

My head lulled back to allow Adam access to my neck.
Tossing me onto a bed, he bore his weight down on me as he nibbled, kissed, sucked, and licked my sensitive skin. He kept up this tantalizing routine, grinding his hips so I could feel his stiff cock straining against his jeans until I was writhing beneath him. I rode him shamelessly from below, creating the friction I longed for. And I couldn’t think of anything else but having his thick hard-on buried inside me as I came apart around him.

Eventually, he put a stop to the torturous pleasure, just long enough to undress us both before resuming his position above me.
But this time, he straddled me, pressing his legs against mine to limit my movement. With my thighs restrained, the pressure inside me built quickly, especially as Adam reached down to stroke my clit with his thumb and swirl his fingers around inside me.

I massaged Adam’s balls, stroked his length up and down, and ran my palm across his slick tip.
I didn’t think it was possible for me to be any more turned on than I already was with Adam leaning against me, kissing along my jawline, fucking my mouth with his soft tongue. But ever since our sexting experience during spring break last year, the image of him—in this very room—pretending his own hand was mine as he made himself come had been my “go-to” fantasy on more than one occasion. And now, my fantasy and reality could quite possibly merge into one. “Is this where you touched yourself that day when we were texting last year? In
this
room?”

His thick cock pulsed in my hand at my words, and I could sense him struggling to control himself.
“Yeah, baby, right here. Just like you’re doing now.” His breath came out in sharp bursts against my mouth as he kissed me and thrust slowly into my hand. In the midst of his own pleasure, he withdrew his fingers from me, leaving me hollow and even more needy. “You gotta stop, Lily.” He let out a low growl before continuing. “I’m not gonna be able to wait much longer.”

I knew the feeling.
I ached to be touched, and feeling Adam’s warm, pulsing erection in my hand did nothing to help quell the urge inside me.

“Show me what you do to yourself when I’m not around to do it
for
you.” His voice was low and deep, a raspy groan escaping as he continued to fuck my palm. “Show me what you do to yourself when you think of me.”

Jesus Christ, that might be the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.
With my other hand, I reached down to rub myself in slow, deliberate circles as I tightened my grip around Adam’s hard length with my free hand, pulling quicker. My hips bucked slightly against my own fingers, and I moaned with pleasure at the touch and the sight of Adam’s dick sliding through my clenched fist.

Adam’s eyes stayed down as he watched me bring both of us closer to orgasm.
Instead of feeling embarrassed that I was doing this in front of him, I felt liberated that he enjoyed watching me. My pace quickened, and I no longer cared about having Adam inside me. I just needed to find the release I’d been craving, and I would take it any way I could get it. Again Adam leaned down to kiss me as I worked us both with my hands. “Lily, I really can’t wait if you keep doing that.” His hand moved to mine to push it away. That’s when I knew if I didn’t stop, he would come on me.

And I wanted nothing more.
So I kept my hand firmly on his shaft as I pumped him faster, urging him to let go as I felt his deep moans against my mouth. He struggled to concentrate on kissing me as his warm cock twitched in my hand. The rapid bursts of hot semen that shot onto my stomach matched the pace of his rough, quick breaths. I milked him slowly, draining him of every last drop he had to offer as I enjoyed the feeling of his climax on my skin.

Finally able to concentrate on my own, I quickened the speed of my hand, gearing up for my much-needed release.
Adam leaned back to watch me, his cock still semi-erect. “Make yourself come for me, Lily.”

His words were all I needed to push myself over the edge,
and I relished the feel of my own orgasm as it tore through me, making me shake below him until I brought myself down gradually. I lay there for a few moments, admiring the sight of him above me and feeling the warm sensation of the trail of cum on my abdomen.

“I’ll get you a tissue,” he said.
"Sorry. Though seeing me all over you is a huge fucking turn on.”

“Don’t be sorry.
That was seriously one of the hottest things you’ve ever done.”

His eyebrows raised in excitement.
“Really?” he asked playfully, his cock twitching slightly. “How about I wash you off in the shower instead?” He extended his hand to me to pull me to my feet.

“I don’t think I’m dirty enough yet.”

He pulled me toward him, sliding two fingers down the cum on my stomach before slipping them inside me. “How’s that for dirty?”

Holy hell, this is gonna be a great fuckin’ day.

***

I’d been spot on with my prediction.
Once we were appropriately cleaned up, Adam and I relaxed in our sweats and enjoyed a lazy day of Chinese takeout and movies. A week ago I’d made the mistake of admitting that I’d never seen
Animal House
,
Field of Dreams
, or
Heat
. I thought I’d actually seen the last one until he informed me that I was thinking of
The Heat
with Sandra Bullock and “that manly chick from
Bridesmaids
,” as he so kindly referred to her. I guess he thought Valentine’s day was the appropriate time to rectify my limited knowledge of classic guy films, so he’d come prepared with all of them.

Despite the fact that watching three back-to-back movies of your boyfriend’s choosing is not the romantic night every girl hopes for on Valentine’s Day, I couldn’t help thinking that the gesture was sweet.
Not to mention I found a certain enjoyment in letting Adam feed me lo mien with chopsticks. Every now and then he’d recite a line or two from one of the movies, and I could appreciate the excitement he felt when he watched his favorite parts. It was the same enthusiasm I had when I watched the riff off in
Pitch Perfect
for the thirtieth time.
Those bitches can sing.

Finally, when the last movie ended, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“I wanna give you your gift,” I whined.

He let out a loud laugh in response and pulled me closer to him on the couch to stroke my hair.
“
You
wanna give me
my
gift? I thought it was the other way around. I thought you wanted to get
yours
?”

“I do,” I said, “but I really
am
looking forward to seeing you open yours. Maybe there’s some truth to that whole ‘giving’ thing.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, feigning apathy about our upcoming gift exchange.
“I guess we can do gifts now. Wait right here. I gotta go get it.”

I watched him walk down the hall and into one of the two bedrooms at the end.
Once he was out of sight, I got up to grab his gift from my purse on the kitchen counter and plopped myself back down on the plush off-white couch, concealing his present behind me.

A few moments later, Adam returned to hand me a red envelope.
“You go first,” he said, a wide smile sweeping across his face. He seemed excited for me to open it.

In the seconds I had before I opened the card, my mind involuntarily guessed at its contents.
Tickets to a concert or comedy show maybe?

I couldn’t contain my
enthusiasm, so I tore open the envelope, barely stopping long enough to read the card: some light-hearted poem with two cartoon bears on the front. Inside was a gift certificate for a spa near my house.
Three hundred dollars.
“Wow, Adam. Thank you. "But," I bit on my lower lip, "it's too much.”

“It’s not too much,” he said with a shrug.
“I thought you could take off from work and spend the day there sometime. Get a massage or pedicure or something. Do whatever girls do when they wanna relax.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him into me to give him an innocent kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks, Adam. Really, I can’t wait.”