Page 102 of Things I Overshared
“And she enjoyed your amazing body,” I say before I can stop myself. He laughs again. “And you enjoyed hers, I’m sure,” I mutter.
“It was . . . helpful.”
“Was, past tense?”
He holds my eyes for a second. “Oui,passé.”
________
“Dress. Off,” he commands in between urgent kisses as we stumble through our hotel room door.
“Did you get condoms?” I ask while I fidget at the back top button of my dress.
“No.”
“What!” I squeak.
“Not yet.”
“Are you serious right now?!”
“Yes.” He’s still kissing all over my neck and face as I try to talk to him.
“Emerson.”
“You said you want to save it.”
“I said Ididwant to save it. Before! Not now!”
“Too bad.”
“UGHHHH!” I yell and stomp away from him, but he grabs me from behind.
“You don’t want me to ravage you, then?” His mouth is on my ear, and his hand is sliding up over my shoulder and down into my cleavage. His fingers play there, not going underneath my bra, softly murdering all my thoughts.
“Let me,” he whispers.
I whimper out some sort of yes. He quickly undoes the rest of my dress and tugs it down. He turns me around to kiss him, and I take off his clothes too, with his help, as our mouths devour each other. Again, it’s frenzied, like both of us might die if we’re not touching. I never want it to end.
When he’s out of everything but his boxers, he carries me to the bed. He looks at my cleavage again, and I quickly take off my bra before I’m laid all the way down. He sits back and looks down over me, his eyes scanning every inch of my nakedness, except for a tiny red string thong.
“Incroyable,” he whispers in French.
“What?” I whisper, trying to read his face.
“Incredible,” he says, and his voice cracks. “I could do this for ages, just look at you.”
“Please don’t,” I say with a smile, pulling his mouth back down. He kisses me fiercely, like a man possessed. Then his tongue slows, his hands lighten. He pulls away, and then his mouth is moving down my jaw. His lips and tongue go everywhere slowly: my neck, down my sternum, over each nipple, along my stomach. He keeps kissing and licking, moaning his way down, muttering in French. He slows even more as his mouth moves past my belly button.
Wait.
I’ve never done this.
“Wait.”
He freezes and looks up at me.
“I’ve never . . . no one’s ever donethat.”
