Page 58 of A Crazy Kind of Love
His eyes closed and he groaned. “Oh, my God.”
When he reached down and lifted my shirt up and off, his hand brushed against the insulin pump attached to my shorts. “What’s this?”
I detached the tube and laid the device onto the nightstand. “That’s my insulin pump.” If I hoped he might just ignore it, I wasn’t so lucky.
“What’s it for?” He returned to the exploration, touching the adhesive disk covering the needle insertion point.
“Basically, it keeps me alive.”
He stopped and glanced over at the pump. “Shouldn’t you be wearing it?”
“Relax. It’s okay.” I took his hand and put it back on the adhesive disk. “Are you weirded out?”
He tapped the plastic connector. “Does it hurt?”
“Not really. Only sometimes when I put it in.”
His eye drifted to the device on the nightstand. “Are you part robot?”
“I guess so.”
“Cool.” He ran his fingers around the edge of the white fabric circle. “Sexy robot.”
Every time he touched me, my skin responded with tingles, and I wanted to see his body and touch him, too. I slipped my hands under his shirt and peeled it off, then helped him with the insanity of my sports bra.
His fingers moved across every inch of exposed skin, bringing me to such a state of arousal, I needed him more and more until I couldn’t wait any longer. But when I reached for his waistline, he put a hand on mine. “Are you sure?”
My answer came in the form of a guttural moan.
He jumped up and left me lying on the bed, wondering if he’d taken “Argh yeeees,” as an ambiguous invitation. But he came back and tossed a square packet onto my nightstand next to my pump. Good thing one of us was thinking.
As soon as he lay down, I ran my finger down his side and along the waistband of his shorts.
He stopped my hand with his and twined our fingers. “Slow down. I want to make the moment last.”
I laughed. “Youwant to slow down?”
He laughed, too. “Yeah. I don’t want to just have sex. I want to get to know you. I want to take our time.”
“Micah? Do you think we could take our timenexttime?”
“You sure?”
“Micah, I need you right now. Please. I am dying.”
“Well, I don’t want you to die.” For all that, he took forever sliding my shorts off and then touching me until my back arched, and I begged him to stop toying with me.
I clutched at his ridiculous shorts and dragged them off. And then I made sure he’d want to seal the deal sooner than later by touching him in delicate places to heighten his arousal.
He groaned as I stroked him slowly. “You sure you don’t want to go to your step aerobics class instead?”
“Yeah. Let’s go to aerobics.” I pretended to sit up, calling his bluff.
But he caught my arm. “Come back here.”
And we lay on our sides, driving each other more and more insane with need. It was like a game of chicken. Who would blink first? I didn’t honestly know what the toll of this much excitement was going to be on my blood glucose and hated that I had to stop and wonder. So I threw my leg over him and rocked him onto his back. He stretched his arm over to the nightstand and tore the condom open with his teeth. I straddled him and let him guide himself into me.
I’d had sex before—frenetic dorm room sex in college mostly. Never had I been made to wait so long. Never had I been so near the edge at the moment of impact. So almost as soon as I felt him deep inside me, a sharp explosion of pleasure shook me, and I collapsed onto him. Then horrified, I realized he was still hard as a rock, still in me. I lifted my head and looked into his eyes. They glittered as he smirked.
