Page 43 of Reply All
Way too soon, I find myself barreling toward an orgasm, careening wildly towards a place I’d clearly never been to before in my life. Because sex—at least oral sex—has never been like this for me. At once animalistic and perfectly measured, a series of contradictions that leaves me spent and melted and wet and a sticky mess on my mattress as I watch Will helplessly get to his knees on the bed and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand before licking his fingers clean.
“I used to think you’d taste like strawberries and cream. Maybe cherries.” He begins to unbutton his shirt, breathing ragged. Meanwhile, I wonder whether I’m still alive. Wonder how I’m even able to pull in any air. “I should’ve known someone like you, someone with your passion and brightness, would taste more like cinnamon and something floral. Like magnolia.” He peels his shirt off and I lose all sense, sitting up just to run my hands down his perfect, defined, tan chest. I feel the light smattering of hair beneath my fingertips, feel the smoothness of his skin, dewy from exertion.
“I could lick every inch of your chest,” I admit in a whisper.
In one wild movement, he manages to pull my dress over my head, leaving me in my bra. His eyes land on my breasts, pupils widening as I fall back onto the bed and they bounce. “Fucking. Ditto.”
He leans down to kiss me on the lips, his tongue and mine a tangled mess, before moving down to my neck. “I could kiss every single one of these perfect freckles. Like tiny targets of where I know I’m gonna lick and kiss and bite you.” Will moves the cups of my bra over my tits, where he spends a considerable amount of time lavishing them. His tongue plays with my nipples, teeth grazing, giving me just enough pain to make me cry out, but not for it to hurt.
“I used to hate them,” I breathe, my hands in his hair, over his back and shoulders.
“What?” His voice is muffled as he speaks against my skin, face between my tits.
“My freckles. I hated them.”
He looks up suddenly, anger in his eyes. “You’re fucking perfect, Bridget. Every fucking inch of you that I’ve seen is perfect. And I’d bet everything that I am that what I haven’t yet is perfect, too.”
“Really?”
Will’s eyes soften before he reaches up to kiss me slowly, endlessly—so deep I feel myself sink into another world I never want to come back from. “Really,” he whispers when he pulls away. I want to cry because he gets to his feet, and the loss of his body against mine is devastating. But it only takes a second for him to remove his shoes and socks, his pants and underwear, before he’s back on me and the relief of it is immediate.
His hands are around my waist when he suddenly flips us, his fingers working the clasp of my bra with ease. It’s like itwantedto jump off my skin for him. I settle on his thighs, feeling the long hard length of him right beneath my folds. The tip of him touches my clit and if I movejust so?—
I gasp and lean forward, catching myself with my hands on his chest. His hands fly to my hips to keep me stable, to keep my hips from moving. Which is good, because right now, in the fog of pure need, I ache to rock myself on top of him. To feel his cock between my wet folds. To let him make me come just by doing this alone.
“Fuck, you feel incredible. Even just by doing this.” He groans and experimentally moves me back and forward. My head snaps back as I call out his name and beg for him to do it
“Again, Will.Please, please, please—I need it again.”
“Okay, baby. You know I’ll always give you what you want, right?”
I melt like sugar in his hands, but he doesn’t let me fall. Instead, he digs his fingers into my skin and forces me backwards and forwards on his cock. Will’s groans mix with my moans in a beautiful orchestra that bounces off the paper-thin walls of my apartment, my neighbors surely getting a kick out of what’s bound to be one of the best nights of my life.
I come for the second time tonight, collapsing and falling forwards on Will’s damp chest. I kiss his skin, tasting the salty wetness on my lips as I try to catch my breath. But he doesn’t give me time to recover. Before I even know what’s happening, Will rolls us so he’s on his knees and he’s somehow maneuvered me to end up on all fours. Ass up, head down. He slaps my ass once, making me yelp. It’s a surprise, that’s for sure, but not an unwelcome one.
He kneels behind me and takes a hold of my hips, pressing his cock against my ass cheeks without entering me. Will leans over me, kissing up my spine, licking my neck. “Condom. Need condom…” I thought he was in control, but he’s just as lost as I am, struggling to form full sentences, trying to keep his head on his shoulders so we don’t make a stupid mistake.
“Nightstand,” I do my best to say. After all, my face is pressed down onto my pillow.
He pulls away for no longer than fifteen seconds but the ache of his absence is visceral. I feel empty and wound tight, needing to be filled and used once again. I don’t know how I’m still conscious after the two most intense orgasms of my life, but here I am, wanting more. While I wait for him, my brain spirals, despairing because how the hell am I supposed to go on in my life afterthis?
Thankfully, he’s back before I’ve gone too deep down a black hole, the heat of his body behind mine enough to pull me back to the present.
I feel Will line himself up against me, feel the initial push. And though I’m wetter than I think I’ve ever been before, and even though I’ve come more than once at the mercy of his mouth and hands, it’s still a struggle to fit. It takes a series of false starts, of small and measured thrusts, before he’s able to push in to the point where he can move. When he pushes into me to the hilt, my face pressed into the pillow, I grit my teeth as I feel the painful and delicious stretch. His deep, wild groan does something to me I’ve never felt before; it awakens an instinct to claim Will as mine and let him take me wherever he wants, because I will follow.
It’s impossible to keep my eyes open as I breathe through each of his movements once he starts a steady rhythm. It’s not long before Will increases his pace, and I don’t think it’s a conscious decision. Based on the way he holds on to my hips, the way he calls out my name over and over again like a chant that will save his fucking life, Will is on the edge of losing control.
“Can you come again?” he asks, his voice desperate and out of breath. “I need to feel you come again. I want to feel you around my cock.”
I whimper at his words, wanting to give him just that. So I make to slide my hand to my clit, but he stops me, choosing instead to take on that task on his own. “Me.Iwant to be the one making you come.”
It’s the most difficult thing in the world, talking. He’s so deep inside, I feel every inch of him and ithurts. It hurts and yet it is so fucking good.
I feel him shake his head when he moves my hand away, leans his sweaty forehead on my shoulder. “I want to be the one making you come,” he repeats.
His fingers are steady and the pressure is beautiful and perfect, and pure heaven and hell. It isn’t long before I find myself nearing the end of the line, just a moment away from imploding in Will’s arms. His punishing rhythm is back, his coordination skills truly award-worthy. He fucks me so intensely while he touches me so delicately, I can hardly make out the words he breathes against my ear.
“Beautiful, Bridge… Waiting forever.So fucking long… Coming, coming. I’m fuckingcoming.” And when he bares down his teeth on my shoulder, I join him. Together, we fall over as we come, his hips still thrusting, pushing me into the mattress as he empties himself into the condom, in me, as I writhe beneath him.
