Page 14 of Under the Weatherman
“Can I…?” With a tug at my sweater, he lifted it over my head. His fingers ran along the edge of my bra, snapping the front latch, then he trailed kisses down my chest, taking one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking gently and licking roughly. I groaned.
I forced Evan to sit up so I could get his shirt off and stopped dead to take him in. Tight muscles—not showy, just right—etched his torso. I ran my fingers across his lightly dusted chest and down his smooth abs, enjoying how his skin rippled. “You’re ticklish.”
“A little. But it’s nice. You feel amazing.”
I did feel amazing, but part of my brain kept trying to derail the train flying brakeless down the tracks. I needed him now. But what about tomorrow?
Where had I come up with the idea to let tomorrow take care of tomorrow? I was terrible at that.
There was a reason I didn’t usually do this. It was as foolish as drinking too much, but knowing I’d have a hangover had never stopped me. I was going to hurt when he was gone.
There’d be shame of course, but I’d sort that. I didn’t believe sex was wrong, despite social conditioning. Shame was like a vestigial impulse, bred into me through osmosis and rampant misogyny. I consciously rejected those beliefs as patriarchal bullshit, but even knowing shame was mostly imaginary, I had years of internalized messaging to overcome, so it hit me, unbidden. The price of being a woman.
I’d also feel the loss of a part of myself I was giving over. But mainly the loneliness of my everyday would sharpen in the absence of this connection, however brief. I’d touch the sun tonight, but tomorrow would be cold and dark.
Nothing new. Loneliness was my lot in life. Nights like this only made me temporarily forget. Not that I often sought mindless oblivion because I wanted alifewith someone. I wanted forever. But tomorrow, I’d be in this bed alone, memories of this delicious pleasure fueling a thousand fantasies.
Fears evaporated as Evan kissed me again with even more conviction. I relaxed, experiencing the moment. After all, that was the promise we’d made. And in the moment, his groin ground into me, hard evidence of his attraction against my thigh, as we rutted like high school teens cheating at sex.
I reached for the button on his pants and unzipped him. His cock sprang forward behind his flimsy boxer fabric, and I slid my hand under his waistband to touch his rock-hard erection.
“Ah, Lizzy.”
I froze for a half a beat. But the slip only reminded me this was fleeting. It didn’t matter. There was no point correcting him. Tomorrow, he’d be gone.
I ran my thumb under the ridge on his cock, loving the tortured sounds escaping his lips.
His hands shook as he worked my pants off, and as his hit the floor, he reached down to retrieve a condom from his wallet. A normal non-polka-dotted condom. “These don’t expire, do they?”
I almost laughed, but he tossed it onto the pillow and lay beside me, utterly nude, and there was nothing funny about how beautiful he was. And that beauty wanted me.
“You’re delicious, Evan.”
He rolled so our noses met, our chests nearly brushing, his extended cock pressing right above my throbbing need. This must have been how Eve felt after she’d tasted the fruit of knowledge—aware of the forbidden, taking it anyway.
A smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. “You’re an absolute dream.” His fingertips lit on my shoulder, gently. “I want to touch you.”
Like he hadn’t already sucked on my nipple. Shamelessness rode shotgun to my self-consciousness.
“Touch me.”
His awkwardness now banished, his hands roamed everywhere, making my skin electric. I was all potential energy, like a static charge. A balloon would have stuck to me. He touched my cheek, my neck, my shoulder, my arm, my hand, my fingers, my fingertips. These last he lifted to his lips and kissed one by one.
Freed of any inhibition, I let myself explore every inch of his arms, abs, back, ass, hips, until need grew irrepressible, and my hips moved of their own accord, rocking against his thigh, wanting wanting wanting.
He reached for the condom and looked into my eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He rolled it on, and finally, finally, finally, ran a finger along my clit. I moaned, and he did it again, kissing me as he heightened my need. After so much foreplay, it felt incredible, and I would have let him stroke me until I came, but that was a feat I could accomplish on my own. I wanted to reach that climax with him inside me.
“Please.” I tugged him toward me, urging him to settle between my legs. He entered, slowly, so slowly, with a sigh of a groan. Stroking me, sliding in me. “Oh, God. Evan.”
I let my knees cant to accommodate him. His eyes closed, and his lower lip sucked between his teeth, as he stretched me, until our hips met. He looked like sin, skin flush, mouth swollen from kisses, peering down at me through those long eyelashes, like he was just as entranced by me.
This right here was the kind of connection I longed for. I knew it was fleeting, not even real. Just the sugar hiding the bitterness of my real life, but I wanted to pretend, wanted to make myself believe this would last forever.
And then he dragged his hips up, and my back arched from the undeniable bliss of the ebb and flow of our bodies in unison.
