“I’d say we have time for at least another couple, if you’re game.”
I grabbed the strip of condoms half-wedged under my lower back and waved them in front of his face. “How many do you think we can make it through before anyone comes back?”
His lips twitched. “I have no idea, but I’m ready to start this race in five.” He took the strip from me.
“Four.” I wiggled out from under him and got onto my knees.
“Three?” He got up onto his and tore open the package.
“Two.” I pushed against his chest and he fell onto his back.
“One.” He straightened his legs.
I threw mine over his and gripped him before lifting up and guiding him inside.
“Blast off.”
16
LJ
Marisa rode me, her hips dropping and rotating. Teeth-grinding pleasure was injected straight into my veins.
I cupped her breasts, toying with her nipples. She found her rhythm and I added my own thrusts timed to draw the moans, gasps and looks of surprise from her.
After so long holding back, I couldn’t anymore. I didn’t want to, not when she felt this good and made noises that tapped into a baser, primal side of me that didn’t want to let her go. Not after we were finally together.
With the right tempo, it wasn’t long before my focus shifted from making this good for her to holding back. It was too good. Watching her made it even harder to keep the reins on.
My silent chant resumed and I squeezed my eyes shut only to snap them open. I didn’t want to miss a second of her parted lips and hooded gaze.
She stared down at me like I was a superhero who’d showed up with a basket of orgasms to hand out. Damn, I wanted to run out onto the roof to see if I could actually fly.
I gripped her hips, pulling her down harder and grinding up into her.
This set her off. Her head dropped back and she screamed my name before falling forward onto my chest.
Sweaty, sex-drunk, and satiated, I held her against my chest and brushed her hair to one side, massaging the dents in her shoulder from her bra.
Coming down from the sex high was happening faster than I wanted. All the reasons and roadblocks lined up in the back of my head, ready to unleash a downpour on our first time.
She kissed my cheek and let out a sigh of contentment.
I didn’t want to move from this spot, but I had to get rid of the condom.
When I slid back into the bed, she had her thinking face on.
The door opened to the reservations, which lined up in a nice orderly fashion.
“Your condoms were expired.”
“Yes.” I’d hoped she’d have forgotten that. And I didn’t have more than a few brain cells left after round two to come up with a good excuse.
“But they’re good for like, five years.”
I dragged the blankets down, my heart beating wildly for totally different reasons than a few minutes ago. She should know. Also, it was a solid cover, if I’d botched it for her.
“Yes.”
“Was it a box you got from someone else?”
“No.” I chuckled. “I bought them myself.”
She moved under the blankets, the wheels turning and gears grinding even louder. “When?”
“Senior year of high school.” I faced her with my head propped up on my arm, wishing I had another distraction cookie to shove in her mouth, but not wanting to hide this from her anymore.
“What?” Her eyebrows furrowed, and then she gasped and stared at me with her mouth slack.
I was tempted to nudge it closed with my finger.
My neck and chest burned with embarrassment. The red was probably a glowing beacon to planes flying overhead.
“You’re a virgin?” When she said the word, it sounded like it was in a foreign language she’d never learned. She shot up, the blanket falling off her body. “Are you fucking serious?”
My face heated with embarrassment, like someone had shoved my mouth full of candles and lit the wicks. “Why not scream it from the rooftops? And not anymore.” I sat up, keeping the blanket over my lap as if the soft sheets could hide my self-consciousness. How obvious had it been? Why’d hadn’t I just come up with a good excuse?
“What about the girl you dated freshman year?” She shifted on my lap, straddling me, wrapped up in her own blanket with her arms draped over my shoulders.
My head rocked back, trying to figure out what alternate life she’d thought I was living. “I didn’t date anyone freshman year.”
Her lips pursed. “You don’t have to lie. I saw the pictures online. She was a cute, super tall brunette with a pixie cut.”
I wracked my brain trying to figure out who this mystery woman might have been, which wasn’t easy with Marisa on my lap. At least there were two blankets between us, or I’d have trouble remembering my own name.
“She was tallish. Was in lots of pictures with you. Every game, even the away games, she was there.”
“Tara?” I laughed before steeling my face at the glare from Marisa. She was being totally serious.
“Fine, Tara. Yes, what about her?”
“We were not having sex. She was the mascot.”
“The mascot.”
“Giant cartoon knight.”
“Was a girl.”
“Yeah. She traveled with the team to games and stuff. She graduated my freshman year.”
Her grip on the sheet loosened and it slipped down her back. “Or the one girl sophomore year with the faux hawk?”
“Class project partner. She crashed here a couple nights because her roommate was insane. She kept stealing her underwear.”
“What about—”
I cut off her list with my finger against her lips. The last thing I wanted was for her to go off on a wild tangent about me and my bedroom activities. Evading wasn’t going to work. I need her to know.
“I haven’t slept with anyone else—ever.” My hands wrapped around her waist, thumbs brushing against the soft skin of her back.
Her face cycled through at least ten different emotions before settling on confusion.
“Why not?” She settled deeper onto my lap.
At least she believed me about that, but did I really want to tell her the whole truth? Would it seem pathetic and stupid? On the other hand, I’d already run the ball in this far, what was a few more yards?
I tilted my head and stared into her eyes, the same chocolatey brown ones that made me want to gorge myself on brownies. “They weren’t you.”
“LJ…” Her head tilted. The question blaring in her eyes. “No one?”
I stifled my smile. “I’m not saying I’ve never been kissed or anything. But it just never seemed right.” The line between her not thinking of me as a manwhore or a nun was a hard one to toe. This was the worst possible place for her to be sitting for this conversation. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. I didn’t want to go through a play-by-play of just how far I had gone, and I didn’t need to think about how her experience eclipsed mine.
Or the guys she’d been with.
Her hands stilled their torturous swirls on my back. Her head ducked and she stared at the same spot in the center of my chest she always looked at whenever she couldn’t look me in the eye.