Page 16 of The Art of Dying

I sighed.Ignoring my desires left me lying here alone instead of inviting Kitsch in and under my covers and spend the rest of the night feeling his skin on mine.

I slipped my hand between the fabric of my panties and into the warm wetness of the apex of my thighs. I imagined his fingers on me instead, his lips quick to follow, and my knees on each side of his head. This wasn’t a porn flick. My back wasn’t arched, my knees weren’t up, my lips were absent of seven layers of gloss. Ankles crossed, my hips working in circles, I worked myself up, releasing within five minutes… just to begin again. The first climax would’ve relaxed me enough to sleep, but the second, after my mind had time to concoct an entire fantasy about Kitsch, his hands and fingers, his lips on mine, envisioning his bare ass tightening as he thrust himself inside me… I was seconds away from edging my insides toward pulsing and spasming in an orgasm that would put me into a coma.

Knock, knock

I sat up abruptly, my hand still in my panties. “Hello?”

“It’s uh… it’s me,” Kitsch said from the other side of the door.

I stood up quick, pulling my T-shirt down as I walked to the door. I yanked it open, seeing him standing a step down, looking up at me with an apologetic grin. He was in different clothes, his hair still damp from a recent shower.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, still a little breathless. But before he could answer, I shook my head. “Never mind, I don’t care.”

I grabbed his shirt and yanked him toward me, instantly planting my lips on his. He wrapped one arm around me, closing the door behind him with the other, and took baby steps with me as I walked him toward my bed. Once the back of my knees touched the mattress, I reached down to pull up the hem of his hoodie, then went for the button of his jeans. I undressed him in record time, and it wasn’t until I was on my back and naked from the waist down that he slowed down.

“Hold on… hold on…” Kitsch said, breathing hard. “You okay?”

I nodded, kissing him again.

He let me kiss him for just a moment before pulling back to look into my eyes. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Once he was convinced, he slipped his hands down my body to the sensitive parts between my thighs.

His eyebrows shot up. “Holy hell. Are you always this…”

I grinned. “Wet?”

“Oh my God, I love it,” he said, kissing me again while sliding his fingers inside.

I moaned. It had been a long time since a man had touched me in that way, and even longer since I’d felt good about it. I pushed the memories of Mason from my mind and concentrated on the present moment, on the fact that Kitsch’s fingers were amazingly gifted, and what would come after.

Kitsch lifted his fingers to his mouth and tasted them, humming before positioning himself over my body.

He paused. “I didn’t uh… come prepared.”

“Oh,” I said. I reached up and behind me to my nightstand drawer, grabbing the only condom I had: a gag gift from Alecia. I was hoping he wouldn’t pay attention to the wrapper that saidIn Case of Miracle.

He didn’t. Kitsch ripped it with his teeth, kissing me while he took care of business. His tip touched my skin, and I moaned against his lips. He hooked my leg at his hip with one hand, using his other to steady himself over me. I melted as he slowly worked his way in, patient, but obviously using incredible restraint. I had never felt so wanted and so respected at the same time. He was in control, but also let me steer, and my mind was warring between processing what was happening and surrendering to the overwhelming sense of pleasure his movements created.

He took up every inch of me and then pulled back, rocking into me again, pausing when he was fully inside. He looked into my eyes, his lips close, both of us breathing hard before we’d even really begun.

“Oh. My. God,” I breathed, digging my fingers into the thick muscles of his back.

“You okay?” he asked again in a whisper.

I nodded, and he bent down to kiss me again, tenderly, the same way he was making love to me. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but Kitsch was taking his time, cherishing every moment, every part of my body.

“I didn’t come over here to…”

I shushed him with my mouth before rolling onto my side. He took the cue, rolling with me until I was straddling him from above. I reached down and pulled my T-shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. His eyes scanned my body, and he shook his head. “My God, you’re beautiful.”

I smiled, then pressed up from my knees, rolling my hips at the same time. Every time I moved, I could see Kitsch’s restraint, feel his fingers sink into my back side, and the more he seemed to be losing the battle, the closer to the edge I became.

I’d always wondered if I was alone in feeling like a different person during sex. The sounds, the movements, the sleepy eyes. Naked, twisted, and connected so intimately with someone else and thenpoof. It’s over and you’re back to reality. No longer a sexual goddess focused on movements that feel good and pleasing my partner, I was now just naked lying next to a man I barely knew. In my house. In my bed.

Kitsch was still breathing hard. He reached over and intertwined his fingers in mine. “You’re… amazing.”

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