Page 48 of Blue Moon Love

“I can’t believe that I waited this long to do that.” She inhaled and held her breath for a few seconds before exhaling. “That was…I don’t even have words. Is it always like this?” she asked as her hands ran up and down my back.

I wanted to tell her that what we’d just shared was atypical. It was not the norm. The act of having sex with a stranger could be hot, but it could also be clumsy and unsatisfying. And it never left me with the glow I was feeling now. Instead of all those things, I simply stated, “No.”

The confusion swimming in her eyes told me that she wanted me to elaborate on my response, but that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, I pushed up and slowly began to pull out of her. As I did, her back arched, and her mouth fell open slightly as a needy sound came from her throat. Her body’s response had me going from half-chub to full salute.

I’d always bounced back fairly quickly post-coitus. I could rebound within a fifteen-minute time frame. But this—sixty seconds—was a new record for me.

Even though I was tempted to just sink back inside of her, I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t want her to be sore tomorrow. Not that I thought I’d laid it down or anything. We’d only done missionary. But since it was her first time and she was so tight, I had a hunch she would be feeling it tomorrow. And it was her parents’ anniversary party tomorrow. I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable when she was out on the dance floor.

With more self-control than I’d ever thought I had, I slid out of her and pushed up and off the bed. I went into her bathroom, turned the faucet to hot, and grabbed a towel from under her sink. When I came back to the bed, I placed my hand on her inner thigh and spread her legs open.

“What are you doing?” she asked, and I sensed she felt shy for the first time.

“This is a full-service experience,” I teased her as I gently wiped the damp cloth between her legs and her inner thighs.

“Oh.” Her eyes twinkled in the light coming from the bathroom as she smiled up at me with so much trust and love.

My heart broke wide open as I felt her gaze on me. I’d always wondered what it would be like between us. I thought it would be good, but this, this was more than good. It was more than great. It was fucking everything. I didn’t know what to do now that we’d experienced everything together.

Once I made sure she was taken care of, I stood and grabbed my sweats, pulling them up. When I did, the look in her eyes changed; they were filled with uncertainty and vulnerability. Without her saying anything, I knew she thought I was leaving.

“I’m going to let Winnie in. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay.” She grinned as if she hadn’t needed the reassurance.

On my way out of the room, I grabbed her Stanley cup so I could fill it when I was in the kitchen. I let Winnie in and filled Kenna’s cup with ice and water. It was strange; even being in her kitchen felt different. Everything felt different. My mind was spinning as I walked back down the hallway toward her bedroom, and Winnie trailed behind me.

I didn’t know what was going to happen tomorrow, or the next day, or next week, or next month, but I did know that tonight I’d made love for the first time. Not only that, but it had been with the love of my life, and I wanted to hold her. I wanted to fall asleep with her in my arms and wake up to her beautiful face. And that’s exactly what I planned on doing.

21

KENNA

“Anyone can fly; it’s the landing that’ll kill ya.” ~ Archie “Witty” Whitlock

My eyelids were heavy, but I forced them to open. Mornings were the worst. The first few hours I was awake, I operated on auto-pilot. I was never actually alert and functional until after noon.

Today, however, was different. As soon as I opened my eyes, the memories of the night before came flooding into my head, and all traces of grogginess evaporated.

I’d had sex. Not only had I had sex, I had sex with Sam. I’d always heard horror stories about first times, but mine had been…perfect. Better than perfect. When I asked him if it was always like that, he said that it wasn’t, so maybe it was special. Or was he just saying that to make me feel better about my situation? He didn’t want me to have sex FOMO, or something.

A grin lifted on my face as flashes of last night filled my head. Obviously, I knew that sex was intimate, but I never expected to feel so connected to another person. And I also never expected anyone to make me feel as good as Sam had. The orgasms he’d given me had been so much more intense, more powerful, than any I’d experienced when I was alone.

Speaking of alone, that’s exactly what I sensed I was. I didn’t hear any sign of life in the room, not from Sam or Winnie. Even though I suspected that was the case, I was still disappointed when I turned over and saw that the bed was empty. My disappointment was short-lived when one of my other senses came to life, and I smelled bacon and coffee.

Sam was still here, and he’d cooked me breakfast. Breakfast was his favorite meal of the day; he’d always maintained that it was the most important. At least once a week, I’d receive a text to join him next door for pancakes, waffles, French toast, or whatever culinary delight he’d whipped up, but I ignored them all. Getting out of bed, even for food, was never my priority.

Today, however, I was wide awake and hungry. Starving, actually.

I sat up and slid my legs off the side of the bed. When I did, my body ached in places I didn’t even know it could ache. My inner thigh muscles and every muscle between them were sore. I felt like an old lady as I bent down and grabbed Sam’s shirt off the floor before retrieving fresh underwear from my top dresser drawer.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, where I pulled my hair up into a bun, brushed my teeth, and stared at my reflection to see if I looked any different (spoiler alert: I did not), I headed down the hallway toward the kitchen.

On the short trip, my palms dampened, and my pulse started beating rapidly. I was nervous to face Sam. Last night had been amazing…to me, but I had no clue how he felt about it. What if he was having morning-after regrets?

Was it going to be awkward between us?

Would we just pretend it never happened?

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