Page 85 of Spring Awakening

“Mind your business,” he replies, bunching her T-shirt up. He’s never seen this part of her body for any reason other than checking her bruises, and he feels like the luckiest guy in the world that he’s allowed to be here with her. He tries to ignore her tiny orange lacy pants. Did she wear them for him? Maybe, seeing as she must have known they were going to end up here. Zach counts to three in his head, then he presses his lips against her rib, and she takes a deep breath in.

“Careful,” he whispers. He runs his nose along her skin, kissing her again. “Does that hurt?”

“N-no.” The skip in her words plays in a loop in his mind. When Mali was talking about sex before, he never doubted that if he were lucky enough to sleep with her, he would enjoy her pleasure. But now he’s here, nowhere near sex—he’s just kissing her skin—and he thinks he could rule the world. Bring on the dinosaurs, send in the bears; he could take them all down with the sound of her choppy breaths alone.

Zach hums, repeating the action. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she replies, her fingers working their way into his hair, and he sighs. He runs his fingers lightly against her skin on one side, matching the pattern with his lips on the other. He leaves hearts, and flowers, and he spells out that he loves her. If only he was ever brave enough to tell her that with his words.

Zach’s not stupid—he thinks Mali might fancy him for real. But now, he’s caught whatever she has. The want to please someone he loves. He’s not sure how he’d ever be casual with her. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to go on tomorrow knowing what her stomach feels like under his lips. How is he supposed to wake up and go to work knowing how she sucks in a breath as she tugs on his hair?

She might fancy him now, but will she ever love him the way he craves?

This was a mistake. He can’t bring himself to stop touching her. Every time he presses another kiss to her ribs, her stomach tightens. Every time he squeezes her thigh, she lifts her hips a little. Every time he nips at her skin, he hears the sounds she was making in her room. But he can’t stop and lie next to her again because his erection might make a shadow on the fucking wall.

“Zach,” she whispers, and he resumes his movements. His hand runs along her thigh. She was bruised here too. She widens her legs, and he moves his dick slowly against the mattress.

“Zach.” Her voice is deeper. He glances up at her. Her brows are furrowed, and her hand is resting just under her T-shirt. His entire body tenses at the thought of her touching herself to things that he does. Her hips move again, and he can’t believe she wants him too. Right now, he doesn’t care if she wants it to be casual. He’d do anything she asked for.

“You’re hurt,” he whispers. “Baby, you’re hurt.”

She sighs, her fingers tightening in his hair. “I think about you like this all the time. Sometimes it’s your tongue, sometimes your fingers.”

“Mali,” he warns, his palm against her hip. She rests her other hand against him, and he locks their fingers together. “And you’re so good. You make me feel so good.” He runs his tongue along the band of her pants. “Please,” she mutters. “I’ll be so careful.”

Zach moans, pulling the band of her underwear in his teeth. “It’s not tomorrow,” he replies. It’s barely eleven, but the dark night sky makes it feel like it could be three a.m. Like there’s nothing outside of these walls that he would ever care about.

Mali laughs. “Dickhead.”

Zach reaches a hand up and slides it under her shirt. He runs over her hand, and she moves out of his way. His fingertips lightly graze over her nipple, and she moans, a deep, long moan that he feels in his gut. Zach’s thought about this so many times, and it’s better than he ever imagined. He wonders why he tried when he’s not an artist. He’s not a poet, or a scholar, so how would he ever adequately describe the breathy moans she makes? The way she looks like a painting underneath him?

He presses his lips to her hipbone, moving his way down her body until he hooks her legs over his shoulders. He peers up at her, and she’s already looking at him, leaning up on her elbows, and her hair is fluffy and her eyes are slightly wide, and she’s so fucking delightful he can barely breathe.

“Hi,” she says, a small smile on her face. Zach’s never felt this comfortable with someone before. There’s a pressure that’s new to him. He needs her to feel good, he needs her to have a good time, but he’s not nervous. If he gets something wrong, she’ll tell him, and he won’t be embarrassed. He’ll just switch it up.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers, pressing his lips against her knee. “You want my tongue?”

She pulls her lip between her teeth. “Are you any good with it?”

Zach bites at her thigh lightly, and she laughs, falling back against the pillow.

“You tell me.” Zach kisses along her thigh, to her knee and back. He’s lower this time, and he moves his nose across the wet patch on her pants. He swallows, taking a moment to keep himself in check because he can’t come when he has barely touched her. Zach will just touch her once, and then he’ll stop. They’ll go to sleep, and he won’t risk further injury. He’ll do as she asks this one time.

He runs his fingertip along the material of her pants. “Are you going to be good?”

“I will,” she whispers. “I’ll be so good.” Zach hums. He hooks his fingers under the strap, and Mali lifts her hips to accommodate him. Zach swallows when he leans down again. It’s dark, but there’s enough moonlight to highlight the sharp points of her hipbone. The crease of her thigh touching her hip. The neatly trimmed hair of her pussy. Zach’s in awe of her, as he always is. He traces the indent of her pants until he’s lost to the smell of her. How wet he knows she already is, and he’s barely touched her.

Her voice is quieter when she speaks again. “Just put your tongue on me and I’ll come.”

Zach moans, squeezing his eyes shut. He’s slow with it, and not because he’s scared, but because he never wants this to end. He doesn’t want tomorrow to appear, where he must live anywhere other than between her legs. Mali’s hips buck, and he presses his tongue against her slit, licking her open. She tastes better than he could ever have thought, and he already hopes she wants to do this again, because he knows he’s going to give her whatever she wants and he’s desperate to wind her up properly. To know what makes the breathy moans leave her throat, to know how to touch her nipples so she pulls his hair like she’s doing now.

He was just going to do it once—really, he was—but her hand is tight in his hair, and her moan is guttural. He repeats themotion, deeper this time, and Zach moans against her, pulling her flush against his face with his hands on top of her thighs. He needs her closer. He wants her to be part of him. It’s supposed to be slow, to have any semblance of rhythm, but suddenly, he’s feral with it. His tongue flicks against her, his lips sucking at her clit.

“Oh my God,” she whines. “Please.” He repeats the motion as best he can, but he’s lost in the pleasure of her sounds. She lifts her hips just a little, and he moves his tongue so she doesn’t have to move at all. He’s not supposed to be touching her, but she’s moaning, writhing underneath him, and he’s never been strong around her.

“Like that,” she says, and he’s never been so turned on in his life. He’d willingly never come again if he got to see her like this forever. He flicks his eyes up, and her lip is caught in her teeth. Her brows are furrowed, and she’s rolling her nipple between her fingers. God, he’s thought about her tits longer than he should have. He drops his hold on her thigh, and he runs his thumb over the dark skin, pinching her nipple lightly as he moves her hand. It’s possessive, the way he wants to touch her. To be in control of her pleasure.

“Zach,” she moans, her hips moving in a steadier rhythm. “Fuck, you feel so good. I’ve dreamt about your fucking hands and it’s—God, it’s so much better.”

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