Chapter Thirteen : Toeing the Line
I've had a lot of boyfriends. I've had a lot of flings. And I've had sex. I've had a lot of sex. I wish I could say it always meant something. I wish I could say it wasn't with empty names and blank faces. But most the time, it was. They were just people. People I never knew. People I never wanted. People I thought I loved. People I knew I was pretending to love. People I don't even remember.
And tonight, in this moment, I have an overwhelming feeling I’m about to do something that is going to change all of that. This is going to change everything.
Tonight is going to change me. It already has.
We're only kissing. We've only been kissing. For maybe five or ten minutes. But really it could have been only five seconds. Five seconds and it’d still feel like forever. The ethereal kind of forever. The forever that makes you wonder if you’re even still alive because what’s happening to you is too good to be true.
And this is too good to be true. One kiss and I’m dead. I’m a goner. I’m falling, man, falling so fast and so far.
I’m so lost and so far gone inside her mouth that I don’t even care if I never leave it. I’m actually starting to believe I never will. That’s how removed I am. However, I’m not so removed to not understand where the next minutes are heading. I’m not so absorbed in Ashley's taste to miss what that taste actually is. I don’t miss the distinct taste of sex inside Ashley's mouth. I don’t miss the exact same taste of intimacy reflected in my own.
And I don’t want to let go of it. Ever.
Suddenly, Ashley pushes me back into the door, hands never unclasping from behind my neck, and I let out a gasp. From the contact. From the forwardness. From the want I feel permeating through my body; starting from my core and spreading to every limb like molasses. And I know, more clearly than anything I could possibly understand in this moment, we're not going to stop. We're not going to stop until it's only time to begin again.
And we will begin again.
Because, even in this haze, I know more than I know my own name, this is not a one time thing.
Right now, this more-than-a-one-time thing is starting. Ashley and I are only a few unzipped and unbuttoned clothes from going where we've never gone before. From where we’ve always needed to go. From where we should maybe never go.
But I don’t care. I couldn't care less. Because it just feels right. Feels so right. Because I’ve never wanted anything more than the body pressed against mine. And somehow, with all the meaningless guys from my past. With all my "love" making. With all my one night stands. With all my experience in sex.
I know tonight will be my first time.
Ashley's hands fumble all over my body, trembling and hesitant, like she’s so unbelievably inexperienced.
I know tonight I am a virgin.
Shivers slide through my bones, tingling my skin as Ashley moans straight into my mouth, rolling and echoing over my tongue.
I know tonight I will have sex like I've never had it before.
One whimpered "Oh God" pierces through the heavy air, from one of us or both of us, I have no idea.
And tonight, I am terrified.
Things are happening so fast. My eyes haven't opened in what feels like forever, and all I want to do is open them. I want to see her. I want to see her as I feel her in all the ways I've only dreamt about. In all the ways I've feared. In all the ways that tell me she's real. That everything is real. That all of this is really happening.
We're actually doing this.
Ashleys tongue draws a masterpiece from my lips down to my neck, pushing her body further into mine, impossibly further, stapling us to the door. Her hands are everywhere, absolutely everywhere, and I’d probably wonder how she can touch me everywhere all at once, if I wasn’t already doing the same thing to her. If I wasn’t touching her everywhere at once.
And then reality slams into me. It rains and pelts down on me in the hardest coldest droplets.
Holy fuck, we're actually doing this.
Suddenly, my eyes fly open. Suddenly, I’m gasping for air.
"Wait." Harshly rasps from my already swollen lips, and it kind sets us both back. It kind of jumps Ashley away from me, fingers instantly covering her mouth, as the most rushed "I'm sorry" spills out of it. More apologies pour from her wet lips, and it becomes horribly awkward because she suddenly seems so far away from me. So far, like we weren’t just so close to each other we could have shared a body.
“Oh God, I am an idiot. I’m so sorry, Spence, I got…I…”
She nods her head, shaking it off, shaking away her words. Maybe even shaking away what she believes is a mistake. And all I can do is look at her. Seeing this beautiful girl before me with such disbelief.
I just kissed her? Her? The girl who can get a drink, in any bar, in less than 5 seconds? The girl who doesn’t even realize half the number of people who hit on her daily? The girl I’ve wanted to kiss since the first second I laid my coward eyes on her?
It’s enough to make something flutter between my ribs. Something I’ve never felt before.
And I just keep staring. Breathless and shivering, leaning back against my door, I finally look into her eyes. Finding the apprehension there. Finding the fear of a mistake. But more so, I see something I've never seen before. In those dark dark eyes lies a mixture of fog and clarity. Somehow those eyes, now boring through mine, look glazed over and focused at the same time. I've never seen more clear intent in those eyes, than I do now. And what makes my breath catch in my throat?
I know that intent spells my name. I know that intent crawls all over my body.
And somehow, I'm not as afraid as I should be.
And maybe that's what’s really terrifying.
"I shouldn’t have - I mean, we, maybe," She starts, full of insecurity. “We shouldn't have done that.”
She finishes in a whisper that would have shot through my heart if I believed a word it. If I believed she meant it at all, even in the smallest percentage. But she doesn’t, and I don’t either. We should have done this. We so should have done this.
We just should have done it a long time ago. So so long ago.
“I mean, right?” Now she’s looking at me quizzically; expectantly. Pleadingly. She needs me to tell her no. She needs me to reassure her that this was only right. She needs me to take us away from the reality of the situation.
She needs me to bring her where I need to go just as much.
So I do.
Walking with slow, almost shuffled, steps, I crawl closer to her. Her breath hitches as I lift a very heavy tentative hand up to her face, fingers softly, loosely, unnecessarily brushing a curl further behind her ear. I can feel her breaths stuttering inside her throat with each gentle graze my fingertips make along her neck. Touching her in every way I never imagined I’d touch anyone. Touching her so brazenly and openly, that I have no clue where I got the courage. I have no clue where I’ve earned this boldness. But maybe it’s because its her standing before me. Maybe it’s because I’ve never felt my life making more sense.
Or maybe it’s her eyes still questioning mine. Still begging and pleading for something she’s too afraid to ask for. Something we’re both so afraid to ask for, but something we both want the answer to more than anything.
So I answer.
I answer with my lips barely brushing over hers. So soft like liquid. Like the air you breathe. Like everything we’re doing is ok because we can barely feel it. Everything we’re doing isn't wrong because the way we come together is so right. Because we fit.
We just fit.
And I think she agrees, by the way she whimpers into my mouth, like she’s already done so many times tonight. But, in truth, it doesn’t matter how many times she does it because every time feels like the first. Every time shoots a rush of something I’ve never felt straight into my belly. Dwelling itself a nice turned on hole inside me.
Her hands quickly cradle my neck, thumbs brushing over my jawline, and I love it. I love how the simplest touch is the most complicated and passionate one I’ve ever experienced. For the briefest moment, to switch angles, she pulls away and when she does, a breath so heavy leaves my lips. I breathe straight into her mouth with everything I’ve held inside of me for so long. Giving it to her. Giving her all my secrets and wants and desires.
So, really, I’m giving her everything that was already hers to begin with. Giving her everything that already had her name on it.
“Spence…” She mumbles as our lips wetly peck short kisses, feeling each other out. Feeling out every inch of our small mouths, that suddenly feel like the biggest newest world. So big and new, we’ll never stop feeling them out.
I finally register that she’s actually said my name and pull away. Inching just a fraction from her, I know how disoriented my eyes are. I know how clouded and hazy they must look. Because I can feel it. Because I feel like I’m drunk. I’m so drunk, on her body, on those lips, on those eyes that are so heavy lidded.
Those eyes that reflect mine, because we’re both drinking in every inch of each other in this moment. And we’re both sinking out of sobriety right into belligerence. We’re sinking so fast, we may never come back up for air.
“Yeah?” I whisper, inches from her mouth, letting her feel the words more than hear them.
“I, um…” She’s looking down on my lips, and I’ve only just realized that her hands are still on my neck, holding me right in place, right next to her. “I, uh…” She chuckles, anxiously and nervously, “I don’t remember what I was going to say.”
I don’t believe her. I know she needed to say something, anything, to break the moment. To find clarity and meaning inside this overflowing mess we’re about to swim in. So I laugh nervously with her. Realizing I need it just as much. Realizing I needed something to break whatever was going on in this room. I needed a break to figure it all out.
And, suddenly, it breaks everything more than I thought it would. More than I needed it to. Because now we’re standing apart, inches that feel like miles, panting out breaths that are starting to feel troubled, maybe even regretful. And they just keep tumbling from our swollen lips, and with each new one, heavier than the last, I feel it punch me a little harder.
Punching reality and our mistakes into my guilty conscience.
But it’s not punching so much as ripping. Ripping, grabbing and stealing away all the things I just had. All the things I want so badly.
All the things I feel drifting away from me, with every word we're not saying.
“Is this...” Now I’m wearing Ashley’s begging unsure shoes, testing this situation. "I mean, should we stop?”
I’m so afraid. Too afraid of the answer, I can’t even look at her.
“I don’t know." A breath of honesty fills the ocean of space between us, her breath, “But I do know...” A voice of honesty slams into the nonexistent space between us, “...that I don’t want to stop.”
Her voice. It’s her voice, and it pulls my eyes right back to hers. She looks confused, she looks somewhere between sure and unsure and it’s kind of funny, in a strange way, how a person can look that way. So unsure and so sure at the same time. And then I only feel sad. Terribly sad at how a person can have all they’ve ever wanted right between their trembling hands, but not have it at all at the same time.
“I don’t either.”
But even through my sadness, through my disbelief, and fear, I can still find my voice to speak the truth. Because all I taste is sex from Ashley’s mouth and kiss. All I feel is my overwhelming need for sex damply between my legs. And I still want that sex more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
So I’m not going to give up.
And it looks like maybe she’s not either. Because she’s not really doing anything. With all our vague confessions, we’re just standing here. Frozen. Paused. Staring.
Waiting.
Yeah, we’re waiting, I’ve realized. Waiting for who’s going to make the next move. For who’s going to take the next step, undoubtedly the final one. Who’s going to plunge us into the bad idea we can’t take back, but it’s the only idea we can think of. It’s the only idea I have in my mind, and it’s all I see in her eyes.
So I go with it.
We both go for it.
We inch closer to each other, no words needed this time. And we both know there’ll be no more words. We both know the only words we’ll hear will come in the form of mere sounds from our soon to be bruised lips.
We both know we’re not going back. We both know we're only going forward.
So we keep going.
Painfully slow, we lean our lips together, still giving the other the option of turning away. Of stopping this.
But it’s too late, we're not going anywhere but for each other now. Because our moist mouths just connected, in just the right way. Breaths, gasps, moans, and whimpers slipping between, somehow all coming out at once as we come together from opposite angles, lips slanting and gliding perfectly; languidly. Slow and teasing. There’s no turning back with kisses like these. There’s no stopping something that tastes this good. That feels this divine.
Her hands drift up my torso, barely grazing over my t-shirt, as mine gently cup her face between them. We’re slowly divulging ourselves. We’re eating ice cream from the tub. We’re just testing, tasting, pretending we’re not going to eat the whole damn thing with the freezer door wide open before us.
Pretending this isn’t really going to happen. That we still have the ability to stop.
But we don’t have that ability to stop. The moments of stopping ended with one scorching kiss. One kiss that starts a storm inside our mouths. A storm of tongues and lips and teeth, hands roaming like they’ve never felt another.
Like they’re searching for the one thing to keep them alive.
And as she pushes me back onto my bed, falling on top of me in such a way that is perfectly imperfect; legs slipping between legs in all the right ways. I suck her lips harder between mine. I wrap my arms tighter around her tiny torso, pulling her close. Gasping out her name.
Gasping out the one name I’ve been searching for to keep me alive.
Gasping out the name of the one person I’ve always wanted. I’ve always loved. And I’ll always remember.
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Chapter Fourteen :: Tainted Sunday Dinner