Page 43 of Slots & Sticks
The room is utterly dark. I’m almost painfully aware of the sound of Dot rolling closer to me. My skin prickles as one of her hands settles on my cheek, tracing my jawline.
Her lips meet mine a moment later, slightly off-center, but we course-correct almost instantly. I’m already half hard with anticipation. I slide one arm around Dot’s waist and drag her against me. The sound of surprise she makes when her thigh settles between my legs makes my dick ache. I rub my hand along her back, down to the generous curve of her ass.
Dot pants and squirms against me. Her lips part, and without stopping to think, I flick the tip of my tongue into her mouth.
What to do next? I’ve imagined this night so many times, in so many different variations.
I pull back, far enough so that I can ask, “Can I take off your shirt?” My voice is low and raspy. A stranger’s voice.
“Please.” Dot wriggles out of my grasp and yanks her shirt over her head immediately. Then—God—she’s before me in nothing but her bra, flushed and eager, and I freeze.
Not from doubt. From wonder.
She starts to come back to me, all wild hands and want, but I catch her wrists and hold her steady as the moonlight streams in through the cracks between the old curtains.
“Wait.” My voice cracks. I swallow hard. “Just—let me look.”
Her chest rises, breath shallow, eyes searching mine.
I run my hands up slowly, tracing the curve of her waist, the swell of her ribs, until my thumbs brush the underside of her breasts through the fabric.
I’ve pictured this for years, but nothing prepared me.
“Jesus, Dot…” I murmur, brushing my fingers over her nipples until they pebble through her bra. “You’re gonna ruin me slow.”
Then she moans and arches, and it snaps something in me.
She tugs my arm until I realize what she wants. I’m more than happy to roll on top of her, to press her down into the mattress and grind my hips against hers.
As much as I want to be inside her, I’m in no rush. “You’ve got some kind of magic powers, don’t you?” I ask.
She giggles. “Is that a line? Do you say that to everyone you take to bed?”
Technically, yes.“Only in rooms that look like a sexy log cabin.” I kiss her again, slow and deep. “But I’m serious. When you touch me, my brain gets quiet.”
“Is that a good thing?”
I lower my head to rest my forehead against her collarbone. “It’s really nice. My ADHD is off the charts. Usually, I have fifteen thoughts at a time.”
“You have ADHD?” Dot sounds surprised.
“You didn’t know? I thought it was obvious?”
She hums to herself and runs one hand absentmindedly through my hair. I buck and shiver against her. “It makes sense. Especially with some of the conversations we had in school. We’ve never talked about it, though.”
“I got my diagnosis in college.” I kiss her neck. It’s Dot’s turn to squirm. “We weren’t talking as much then.”
She’s breathless when she stammers, “And here I thought I kn-knew everything ab-bout…oh, fuck.” I lick her earlobe. Seems like she enjoys that. I want to put my mouth all over her, to lick and nibble and devour her. I run my hand up her torso.
“What do you want?” I whisper.
“This.” Her voice trembles.
“But what do you like?” I press. “What would make you feel good?”
Dot stills beneath me. I lift myself up on my arms. I don’t know what just happened, but I could feel her shut down.
For a second, I think I’ve broken something. She goes quiet, and every nerve in me starts buzzing. I’m the one who’s supposed to know what he’s doing, but the truth is I’ve never done this either. Not really. There were chances, sure, I’ve done certain things, but none that ever felt like this—like it mattered.
