Page 40 of When We Were Younger

When it finally wanes and I release my death grip on his hair, Stephen works his way back up my body until he's hovering over me again–a little clumsily, because he hasn't let go of my hand.

"You come like a fucking daydream, Dorothea. Can I please kiss you?"

When I nod my head yes, he gives me the sweetest half smile before lowering his mouth to mine. I kiss him softly, licking his lips and tasting my own orgasm on his tongue. It's something so painfully intimate that it makes my heart ache in my chest with want. He leans down on me, and his hard cock presses into my belly. Even though the orgasm he just gave me absolutely kicked my ass, the moment I feel his need for me, I ramp back up. I hook my legs around his waist and pull him in tight to my body. Then, with a buck and a shove, I awkwardly roll until he's on his back and I'm pulling my legs out from under him.

"That was a lot hotter in my head," I giggle as we adjust, and he settle me into his lap. He grips my hips and leisurely grinds me against him.

"Mmm, it was plenty hot."

"Do you have a condom?" I ask as I toy with the hem of his t-shirt. He tilts his head and parts his lip.

"Dorothea," he starts, but I grip his hands, pulling them over his head as I lean down and kiss him. My nipples rub against his chest, the fabric still wet from where he sucked on them, and I shiver.

"Stephen, we don't have to. But you just made me feel so good, and I'd really like to feel good together now."

"My–fuck–my pocket. There's a condom in my front pocket." His hips buck, favoring one side, so I reach down and start to fiddle around in that pocket.

I find a foil packet, but before I take my hand from his pants, I reach deeper and brush against his erection. He hisses and I giggle wickedly at him as I pull the condom out. I let go of my hands and lift my hips so he can push his pants down. He nudges them down just enough and his cock springs free, long and proud and pointing up at me with a bead of arousal already bubbled at the tip. I can't help myself, I lean down and run my tongue against the head, lapping up his salty precum.

"Jesus fucking Christ," He calls out as his hands fly to my hair. He pulls me up, gently. "Don't do that. Not unless you want this to be over before it begins."

I smile and bite my lip, loving how ridiculously turned on he is for me. I tear the foil open and wrap my hand around his cock, giving it a nice long stroke before I roll the condom over him. I wiggle forward,positioning myself over him and rubbing the sheathed head of his cock over my clit.

"I need to tell you something," he says, grimacing.

"Now?" I pout, notching him at my entrance. He hisses and digs his fingers into my hips.

"Yes, now. I don't know how long I'll last. It's been a really, really long time for me, and you're so fucking beautiful and I just, I'm hanging on by a thread here already."

My chest warms. He's so fucking cute, trying his best to be good for me and fighting his own needs. It reminds me of our very first time, where he couldn't stop apologizing for how quickly it was over, no matter how many times I said I didn't care, and how he spent the rest of the night making it up to me.

"Don't worry about lasting, baby. You've already made me feel so fucking incredible, and now I want to do the same for you. I just want to feel you. Can you do that for me? Can you be good and let me ride you until you come?" I ask him, running a hand over his cheek as I start to sink down on him.

His breath comes in heavy pants as he mutters incoherently and nods. I grit my teeth as I take him in. Coming on his face got me nice and wet and loosened me up, but it's still been nine years since I've had a man–this man–inside of me. I take my time lowering, breathing and allowing myself to stretch as he fills me. When I'm fully seated, his fingers are gripping me so tight I know I'm going to have bruises tomorrow.

"Relax, baby," I whisper, and then I start to rock. Upand down, up and down. He moans and whimpers, beautifully noisy in the way he expresses his pleasure to me. I lean forward, and when my clit starts to grind on his pelvis and the thatch of hair there, the friction sends me speeding towards another orgasm. He thrusts up into me, and I can feel him thicken as he chases his release.

"Dorothea, fuck, I'm coming," he stutters as his body seizes. He pulls me down onto him as he comes, and a quick swivel of my hips has me hanging over the edge again myself. My clit grinds against his pelvis as his cock pulses inside me, and I unravel. I bury my nails into his chest as I come, shaking and shivering on top of him. He holds me as we tremble through our orgasms together, and when he's caught his breath, he makes quick work of the condom before pulling the blanket back over our bodies. I snuggle into him, and he buries his nose into my hair.

My eyelids grow heavy, and as I start to drift off, I can hear Stephen mumbling.

"Raspberries. My Dorothea always smells like raspberries."

22

STEPHEN

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I wake up to the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze mixed with a humming breath. It’s not quite a snore, not quite a squeak, but more like a contented, sleepy sigh.

The chill of the crisp early morning air contrasts with the warmth of the sun peeking up over the horizon. Dorothea's warm hand splays across my stomach underneath my clothes. I blink my eyes open and am greeted by the blue and golden glow of dawn. Birds chirp melodiously and when I shift, she snuggles in closer and presses her face into my chest.

Memories of the last few hours play like a film reel in my mind. The kissing, the touching, the intimate joining of our bodies. I rub my hands up and down her back as she snoozes on my chest and brush soft kisses to the top of her head. I need to wake her if we're going to sneak back out of here and through my parent's yardbefore we get caught, but anything other than snuggling her close feels like a chore.

Even here on the hard ground, where a few hours of sleep have reminded my back that I am not, in fact, eighteen years old anymore. I will likely be popping ibuprofen like candy for the next few days, but I'm reluctant to move. Lying here with my girl, this field feels like the warmest bed I've ever known.

I could devise a way to leave without alerting my parents to buy us some more time, but that doesn't change the fact that I have a dog waiting for me at my apartment, and she needs to be walked.

Dogs: nature's alarm clock.

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