Page 96 of Waking Olivia

“Oh,” I gasp. It’s so insufficient, that word. It doesn’t begin to explain to him that this is completely uncharted territory for me. That if sex were running, I’d be the girl who makes such slow progress you can barely tell she’s moved at all, yet right now I’m moving at a pace that defies logic.

But instead of telling him these things, I only utter these nonsensical words, sounds that tear from my throat involuntarily. And then his fingers push unexpectedly inside of me and I explode with a cry of pleasure and surprise, arching against his mouth.

He doesn’t pull back, but instead slides his hands beneath my legs and tugs me closer, buries his face to create wave after wave of something I never thought would happen in the first place.

When it finally begins to recede, when the small of my back rests on the table once more and I’m capable of speech, he finally stands, his face contorted with longing and triumphant at the same time.

“Holy shit,” I breathe. I’d like to be more eloquent right now, but I’ve got nothing.

He leans over to kiss me and when he does I wrap my legs around his waist, bringing him against me so suddenly that he gasps in my mouth. “Olivia,” he groans.

“Please,” I whisper. It seems impossible for anyone to be more satisfied than I am right now, yet I still need the very thing he wants most, the thing he is so certain he shouldn’t give.

He looks tortured and pulls back but I tighten around him, pressing him against me. “Don’t even think about stopping right now.”

He shifts his hips just enough that he is pressing right there, not inside me but mere seconds away from it. In a single pulse, he could be buried inside me. “Is this okay?” he asks, his voice tight. “Do we need …”

“No,” I beg. “Just do it.”

He pushes in, barely. He’s so thick that already I’m stretched to the point of pain.

“Oh God, Liv,” he flinches. “God, that’s so good.” I squirm impatiently, overwhelmed and yet needing more all at the same time. He bites his lip. “Just give me a minute,” he rasps. “Or this is going to be over before it starts.”

Finally, he begins again, going slowly, a low noise deep in his chest as he finally shoves all the way in. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice strained.

I nod as I lay there adjusting to the size of him, pain still outweighing the pleasure. It’s when he starts to withdraw that the margin shifts, that the pain recedes as a burst of pleasure crawls up my spine, sucking the air from my lungs. It feelstoogood, something so vast and all-consuming it can’t possibly end well. Ineverfinish this way butoh my God…

If it were ever going to happen …

His next thrust is faster, more certain, but he stops entirely at my sharp inhale. “Did I hurt you?” he asks.

“No.” I’d laugh if I were capable. He didn’t hurt me. Hestunnedme. His strokes come slow and rhythmic then, as he leans over, finding my mouth with the table bracing his weight, his arms taut.

“I’ve wanted this for so fucking long,” he says, holding still inside me.

“Keep going,” I beg. “Don’t stop.”

“Patience,” he croons. “You have no idea how hard it is not to come right now.”

I grab his ass and push upward, ignoring his warning, thrilling at the low grunt he makes as he bottoms out. “Liv,” he growls, “goddammit.” His hips jerk back and then forward, almost involuntarily. It’s all I need.

I cry out, my neck craning back as it happens again, everything inside me bursting into color. He thrusts quick and hard, desperate now, and then stiffens with a single guttural noise as he pushes in one final time.

He takes a few last slow thrusts after he’s come, bending low to kiss me, to bury his mouth in my neck. It’s only when he removes his weight that I open my eyes, feeling dazed and sated anddizzywith happiness, to find him staring down at me.

And he looks horrified.

65

Will

When I finally open myeyes, it’s a little like waking from a dream. I imagine it’s a little like when Olivia wakes from hers, a moment of wonder followed by a much more sickening moment ofwhat the fuck have I done?She’s still stretched out before me, and I know that I’ve messed up before I’ve even pulled out, yet I already can feel that twinge, the growing impulse to do it all over again.

The best sex I’ve ever had and the biggest mistake I’ve ever made just occurred simultaneously. The guilt and astonishment twine around each other, leaving me unsure what I think or feel about anything. It was wrong. No matter what other considerations there are, I just slept with a student. I slept with someone who looked to me for guidance and protection, even if she’d never admit it was the case. She would argue that it was okay because she has feelings for me, but how can she possibly know? As fucked up as her life has been, and with all the ways she’s needed to lean on someone this semester, how can she tell the difference between love and need, or between love and gratitude? She can’t. Somewhere inside I knew that, and because I wanted her and I was jealous, I chose to ignore it.

She looks up at me and something changes on her face. “What are you thinking?” she asks, with a small note of dread in her voice.

“That was the most amazing, most intense sex I’ve ever had,” I tell her, “and I can’t believe it happened.”

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