Page 132 of Collision
When he gently removes my hands from my face, his surprised look pierces me. “Did you want to get my attention?” he asks in a sweet whisper.
“I wasn’t entirely aware of it,” I babble, trying to underplay it.
“Did you think you had to dress sexy for me to look at you?” He traces the outline of my lips with a finger, and I can feel his renewed erection pressing against my crotch. That skin-to-skin contact makes me shiver. “Don’t get me wrong, you succeeded. I have spent the last two days imagining myself sinking between your thighs, and fucking not only this”—he touches the still heated folds of my vagina with one hand—“but also this.” His hand drifts mischievously to my butt and grasps it firmly, causing me to lift my pelvis slightly. “But you always have my attention. Even when you’re wearing terrible teddy bear pajamas and questionable unicorn-shaped slippers.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to the tip of my nose. It always amazes me the way he can utter the dirtiest stuff and accompany it with affectionate gestures like that.
“Hey, don’t malign my pajamas and slippers, they’re beautiful.” I pat him tenderly on the chest, hoping I’m not blushing too hard. “I have to take a shower,” I add quickly.
“Me too, let’s go.” He starts to get up, but I shake my head. Thomas must have sensed my embarrassment because, for once, he doesn’t say anything. He leans over the crook of my neck and kisses it slowly. I shiver and close my eyes. I cannot get enough of his kisses, his touch. I wonder if it is normal, this addiction that I have to him? And will it only grow stronger and stronger?
“You’ll let me fuck you but you don’t want me to look at you…”
And there it is, the comeback I was hoping to avoid. He raises his head, waiting for an answer that won’t come. I realize that this is silly. That, for the most part, people showering together is normal, especially if you’ve already shared the most intimate part of yourself with someone. But for me it’s not like that. I shrug. “You know I don’t feel comfortable with that idea.”
He snorts. “How many more times do I have to tell you before you get it into your little head?” He bends down and kisses my breast; a shudder moves through my entire body. “You…” he murmurs, continuing to kiss down my belly as my back arches involuntarily. “Are…” He slips further down, spreads my legs, sticks his head between them and blows on my clit. “Perfect.” His tongue caresses me slowly, and I find myself growing hot again, clawing at the sheets as if I hadn’t just come twice and wasn’t still weathering the excruciating and all-consuming sensations of climax. Can my body actually handle a third orgasm in a row? The answer seems to be “yes,” especially when Thomas focuses all his attention on my most sensitive area, giving me a feeling of ecstasy that makes me bend my head back and bite my lip.
“Oh…God,” I gasp.
The movements of his tongue send nearly unbearable shocks through me that quickly bring me to the edge. When my legs start shaking, Thomas grabs me by the thighs and holds me still, continuing to lick me even more intensely.
I writhe underneath him, threading my hands through his hair, pushing his head against my center. With my vision blurred and my heart in my throat, I half-sob, half-scream. I am overwhelmed by waves of sensation at once agonizing and satiating. Thomas keeps up thistorture through my last pulse, drawing out this agony that sends me adrift for as long as possible.
While I am still spasming uncontrollably, he crawls on top of me and takes my mouth in a vise-like grip. He smiles, cheeky and yet tremendously sensual. “You have no idea how much I enjoy watching you come on me.” He bites my lip and I rub the back of his neck with weak little movements. I struggle to reply, but I’m too exhausted. My body is still shaking wildly, and I don’t have the strength to move, or to speak, or to think.
“You’ve destroyed me,” is all I can manage, with the hint of a worn-out, yet satisfied smile on my face.
“I could keep fucking you all night. But you need to rest.” He gets up and, with his erection still clearly visible, he pulls his sweatpants back on. “Come on, I’ll take you to the shower.” He lifts me up and I loop my arms around his neck, squeezing myself against him. In front of the tub, he gestures for me to get down and, for a moment, I feel so sapped of strength that I worry I’ll just collapse to the ground. Thomas supports me with an arm around my waist. He helps me get my skirt off, leaving a trail of gentle kisses on both thighs and my pubic mound. After turning on the hot water, he presses his mouth to mine one last time and goes, leaving me with the calm that I need.
Thirty-Two
I get out of the shower, wrap a towel around my breasts, and inhale the fresh scent of Thomas’s soap all over me. My body is sore, and my lower abdomen is roiling. In front of the slightly fogged mirror, I flex my arm and touch my shoulder blade. The pain is still there, but it’s much more bearable. The rest of my body, however, is covered with red marks left by my tattooed man.
My… No, that’s probably not the right way to think about him. Still, he does feel a little bit more mine after tonight. And I always feel a little more his whenever he looks at me with those intense green eyes and I forget about the whole world, or when he touches me with that feverish passion of his. A passion that, tonight, he fully unleashed on me. Yet I did not miss the way he made every part of my body his own, except for my shoulder. He placed one soft kiss on it before diving into me with a thrust so powerful it bent my back. It felt like he was staking a claim on me. At the mere memory, I shudder and bring a hand to my belly, savoring those pain-and-pleasure twinges that only he can give me. I smile to myself, sinking my teeth into my lip, like a little girl with her first crush.
How stupid…
I shake myself out of these thoughts and in the absence of a brush, I detangle my wet hair with my fingers. Passing through the living room on my way to Thomas’s room, I hear the sound of a key in the lockbefore the front door opens and Larry appears before me. Seeing me, he drops the books he was holding to the floor.
“H-hi,” I mutter, caught off guard. I clutch the towel more tightly against my chest.
He stares at me with his mouth open, not saying anything, and I start to wonder why Thomas doesn’t come out of his room and put a merciful end to this awkward encounter. At that exact moment, he walks through the front door with a bag in his hands.
“Went down to the gas station to get you a toothbrush,” he says simply. He passes Larry as though he didn’t even notice his presence, and hands me the toothbrush. I smile and thank him, surprised by the thoughtfulness of the gesture.
“You’re not the girl who showed up here a few weeks ago in your slippers and pajamas, are you?” Larry asks, his eyes reduced to two slits, as if trying to focus on the memory.
Thomas gives me a crooked smile and whispers in my ear, “You came here in your pajamas?” He teases me, making my cheeks burn. I want to disappear. Now he and his enormous ego can have a good gloat.
I clear my throat and lean toward Larry. “Um, yeah. That’s me.” I extend a hand to introduce myself. “I’m Vanessa.”
“Larry, pleasure,” He takes my hand to shake and, as he does so, I realize his hand is completely coated in sweat. The moist feeling disgusts me, and I want to run back to the bathroom and wash myself all over again but I manage to restrain myself out of politeness. Thomas chuckles under his breath, as if he can clearly see my internal discomfort.
“Are you sleeping here tonight?” Larry asks, just a hint of annoyance in his voice as he loosens his grip. Then he bends down to pick up the books with awkward movements.
“Yes, she’s staying,” Thomas answers for me, sounding resolute. Does he want me to stay here with him? My heart does a somersault. I hadn’t planned on staying, and I certainly didn’t think he was going to request it.
“You know I sleep poorly when I know girls are here.” Larry turns to Thomas as he places his books on a shelf in the kitchen.
“And you know that if you keep fucking with me, I’ll make you sleep in the hallway,” threatens the surly tattooed grump standing next to me.
