Page 134 of Tell Me When It's Over

He sits up and surprises me with a kiss, this one hard like he’s trying to prove a point. His teeth pull at the same lip he was just touching before sweeping his tongue inside my mouth and sucking mine until I’m moaning again. He pulls away only far enough to say, “Never doubt that. But we’ve already done a lot today, and I never want you to feel obligated. If you want to, I want to. There are condoms in the nightstand. If you don’t, that’s okay too.”

I let out a tiny breath before kissing him lightly, nowhere near as skilled as him, but reach over to the nightstand in question and open the top drawer. My hands shake slightly as I take out a foil packet and stare for a moment, watching him take it from me and peel it open.

“Want to help me put it on?” he asks softly, pecking my lips again. I nod and let him show me what to do, guiding the latex over his length and covering it completely. It isn’t until he presses a kiss to my jaw and says, “Lie down,” when the nerves kick in.

Not because I don’t want to do this, because I do. I really do. More than anything I’ve ever wanted to do before. It’s a

bout if he’ll feel good, or if I’ll do something wrong. What if I don’t make enough noise? Or move the wrong way? Or tell him the wrong thing?

“Hey.” His eyes lock with mine as he settles between my legs, hand combing through my hair in gentle, comforting strokes. “Get out of your head. We don’t have to do this. We can stop anytime you want. Feel me?”

“Okay.” I lean up and meet him halfway for a kiss, winding my arms around his shoulders and massaging the back of his neck with one of my hands. One of his reaches between us and plays with my clit, leisurely stroking me until I’m breathing heavy into his mouth. “Please?” I all but beg against his lips, feeling him align himself to my opening.

“I’ve got you, Lenny. Always will.” He slowly, slowly, slowly sinks into me. Just a little, until the feeling of being stretched more than his fingers can offer has me tensing, my legs locking at his side as my body tries expelling him. “Relax. Breathe. You doing okay?”

I nod against his neck where I bury my head, peppering kisses up and down his throat. “I am. I’m okay. You can keep going.”

His pause is only minor before he continues working his way in, stroking me with one hand, brushing the side of my leg in a coaxing manner with his other. It hurts. God it hurts. In the moment, I’m not sure why people like doing this so much. But then he kisses me, and suddenly his lips and his teeth and his tongue and his fingers are all I can focus on.

Same with his, “I love you” and his “You and me, Leighton” and the “never felt like this before” that gets me to loosen my muscles until he’s finally seated fully inside of me. He stops moving, letting me adjust to the fullness. My eyes are clenched as I wiggle my hips, feeling the bite of pain and extra wetness that wasn’t there a moment ago. I lost my virginity. Not to Chase or some random guy who hit on me late at night after one of my many diner shifts.

With Kyler.

Kyler Bishop.

Maybe I should be ashamed, embarrassed, or something else, but I’m not. I’m happy it’s with him—with someone I care about and trust more than anything in this world. And when I give him a single nod, a gentle kiss, he begins moving and making the pain turn into something else. It’s still there, faint, a bit uncomfortable, but the burning that accompanies this huge milestone fades into heavy breathing and creaking bed springs and two slick bodies coming together over and over and over.

My lips part and his tongue sweeps in and his grunts and groans are mixed with my moans and pleas. Fingernails dig into flesh. Slick wetness sounds from where our two bodies meet with each slow thrust, and eventually we’re holding hands and holding onto each other as his movements become harder, more frantic when I beg him to keep going, to love me harder, to show me how much he cares and wants this and wants me. His growl is deep and low and needy as his cock fills me, one of my legs wrapping around his waist, my heel pushing against his butt that makes him go deeper than before.

“Oh God,” I whimper as his hips meet mine in an unrelenting rhythm, squeezing his hand so hard it may break. “OhGodohGod. K-Kyler? I think I’m—” The bruising kiss he gives me swallows the orgasm that follows him pinching my clit and jackknifing into me harder until my body shifts closer toward the headboard as it smacks against the wall once, twice, a third time to match his rhythm. If there were other people in the house, there’s no doubt they’d hear the bed squeaking and our heavy panting and know exactly what’s going on between us.

“You are squeezing the fucking life out of my cock, Leighton,” his hoarse voice states right before he wraps an arm around my waist and holds our lower halves together before he enters me one last time and stays there until he spills into the condom.

I’m sweaty and sticky and sore and a bunch of other things when he gently lowers himself down and kisses me with so much sweetness that I don’t know what to do with myself.

Spent, I feel my eyelids lower as he withdraws. I wince a little at the last sting of pain from the action, which he soothes with a wet cloth he brings back from the bathroom after disposing the condom into the waste basket. The cloth has smears of blood on it after he’s done cleaning me up, and my cheeks redden a little when he tosses it into the laundry bin in the corner of the room.

“You okay?” he asks, settling in beside me again before pulling me onto his chest.

“Perfect,” I whisper tiredly.

We lay like that for a while, letting our breathing even out before his lips press against my temple. “Get some sleep. I can make us breakfast afterward.”

I find myself nodding, already halfway to unconsciousness when I murmur, “I love you.”

Right before I slip into sleep, I hear his husky voice answer, “Me too, Lenny. This is only the beginning.”

I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Kyler / Present Day

Gordy is waiting for me when I get back from my run Monday morning, perched at the kitchen island with a drink and laptop in front of him like usual when we set up time to talk. He nods at me while typing something as I go to the fridge and grab a water, downing half of it before wiping off my face and turning to him.

“Run ran late,” I apologize, peeling off the band holding my phone on my arm and dropping it onto the counter. “Give me ten to go grab a quick shower.”

Finally looking up at me, his brows raise after a quick glance of me. “You’ve got something on your face.”

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