Page 61 of Most Likely to Match
Chloe laughs, burying her face in the pillow next to my ear.
“Is that what we’re doing?” I whisper, smiling so she knows I’m joking. “Saving ourselves for marriage?”
Her laughter fades, her smile shyer than before. “I just…” She closes her eyes, like it’s easier to say without looking at me. “I wanted to feel close to you,” she whispers.
“Hey.” I tug her hair with my free hand so she’ll open her eyes again. “You’re close to me. You know that, right?”
She nods.
“Want to do it this way?” I ask. “You on top?”
She bites her lip, but as I prop myself up against the headboard, she reaches for the condom, for the lube. We start again, until her body is loose, a flush that starts on her chest and spreads everywhere, a map of her arousal for me to follow. She moves slow, the stretch of her body around me infinitesimal at first, then all at once. Her stomach shakes with every breath.
I’ve never done anything like this before: my hands fisted in the sheets so I don’t reach for her; my hips held still almost to the point of pain so I don’t rut into her; each breath deep and intentional so I don’t lose control, not just for myself, but for her.
“I…” She gasps. “I’m going to move now,” she says, steadying herself against my chest.
“Okay, baby.”
Chloe’s body is unreal. The tight hug of her ass, the gentle bounceof her tits, the way that, no matter how I fill her up, no matter where, she feels so good, so right.
But it’s the way she looks at me, eyes blue like the sky, lips parted and pink. It’s how she wanted to feel close to me, how she’ll spread herself wide open for me. How she’ll ask me for everything but give it right back that sends me over the edge.
“Chlo.” I gasp as she rides my cock, one of her hands steady on my shoulder, the other between her legs. “Baby.”
“I’m—” She shakes her head. “I’m so close.”
I put my hand on her ass to feel her there, the stretch and contraction of muscle underneath my palm and around me.
Oh fuck. “Baby, please.” But even as I beg her, the first spasm of my orgasm fills her. I grip her ass, her hip. “Chloe.” I say her name with every new release. “Chlo.”
As I press up into her, she cries out, a sound of half pain, half pleasure, as she contracts around me. And I can’t seem to stop, coming still with short breathless gasps as she collapses against my chest. Even her smallest movements send another shock through me, until, finally, I have nothing left. I’ve emptied myself for her.
The clean-up is slow. Awkward in a way that makes us laugh every time we look at each other. The towel and now cold, damp washcloth come in handy. We take turns in the bathroom, and when I’m finished with the condom and cleaning up, I fill the tub. There’s not a single bottle of bubble bath to be found. Chloe does not possess the kind of whimsy for bubbles, but I pour her body wash in with the water and hope it’s the expensive kind.
“What are you doing?” she asks, lingering in the doorway.
I step into the bath for her answer. “Come on.”
“I don’t really take baths,” she says, slowly, skeptically, even as she steps to the edge of the tub.
“Me neither.” The water covers my lap, though the soap isn’t concentrated enough to hide anything she isn’t already well acquainted with.
“Fine,” she says. “But only because you used my bodywash.”
Oops.
She hisses a little as she lowers herself into the water.
I reach for her, but she lies back against the soaker side of the tub. I turn off the tap so we don’t overflow into the condo below hers.
“Just a little…” She wiggles a bit under the water. “Sore?”
“Let me know,” I say, “if there’s something I can do differently next time. If you want there to be a next time.”
She shakes her head. “You were perfect.” She finds my feet under the water and pulls one toward her. We’re so cramped that, even like this, my knees sit above the waterline.
She looks tired, satisfied. Happy. “How are you so beautiful?” I ask.
