Page 50 of Dear Pink

“Oh, Hannah, I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head. “Yeah, it sucks. I haven’t changed anything in the house. I’m immobilized. I donated their clothes, but other than that, it’s exactly as they left it.”

I stay silent, unable to form the best words. There’s nothing worse for a child than to lose both parents. My parents are the center of the world. My sisters and I gather at home once a week.

“It must be difficult to live here after suffering such a terrible loss.”

She peers around the room, her eyes resting on Homer’s terrarium by the window. “I love my parents, and I love this house, but it’s time to make changes in my life.”

She pauses and stares into my eyes. They sparkle brightly. Am I one of the changes? ‘To new friends,’ echoes in my mind. But this is more than a casual hookup. She must get how I feel. Heat rises to my face as I recall the frenzied moment we shared on the floor at PetSmart. Those kisses lit us both on fire. We ached for each other in the same way. I know it.

“My mom and dad would be disappointed I’ve lived among their ghostly possessions for too many years. They would be upset to see me stuck in time.”

I kiss her palm. “Thank you for telling me.” She’s about to say more, but I stop her. “It’s okay. You don’t have to keep explaining. I understand.”

I slide closer to her, my hand tucking a stray pink hair behind her ear. She leans in and kisses me. I’m shocked at first. I didn’t expect the kiss, but I quickly catch up. She tastes like sunshine and the wine we just drank. I fall into her eyes and they’re brighter than ever and in a not-just-friends way. She places her hand under my shirt, and the heat from her touch cranks my desire to level ten. She makes a tiny moaning noise, and I’m lost.

I place my lips on hers, and when I move away, she takes off her shirt. I freeze. Underneath is a lace bra which will officially star in my many Hannah fantasies going forward. The fabric’s light pink and transparent and . . . fuck.

“This okay?” she asks with a wrinkled brow.

“You mean because I’m gawking? Hannah, you’re beautiful, and damn, baby, your bra’s seriously hot.”

Her shoulders relax, and her expression turns playful. “My panties match too. Wanna see?”

Hell, yeah, but no words escape my mouth. She smiles so at least I didn’t scare her away with my weirdness. She stands and grabs my hand. I follow her into the bedroom. My mind races. This is better than my fantasy. I am so damn glad we’re not-just-friends. Shit, do I have a condom in my wallet? I can’t turn my eyes away from Hannah to check.

She peels off her bike shorts, and I try to avoid fainting. Standing before me in a matching pink set of sex, her body curves seductively. “Hannah,” I mutter, close to death. This is sexual torture. She bites her bottom lip, teasing me, and my body burns hot. “Fuck me.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I hope so.” Her one eyebrow raises, and she gestures to my clothes. “You gonna make me do this alone?”

I laugh and trip over my feet. My clothes won’t fall off fast enough. After I undress, I stand rooted in place, and we stare at one another, her in do-me-pink and me in my plain blue boxers.

She steps in front of me, her breasts lightly touching my chest. “Let’s take these off,” she says.

I stretch behind her and unclasp her bra. Lifting the lace off her body, I glimpse her perky breasts. I picture my mouth there, but she bends to slide my boxers off.

“Impressive,” she says, placing her hand on my hard cock. I sigh in relief, her hand caressing me. Her touch is magnetic. I must kiss her everywhere. The urgency has me lifting her off the ground.

“Gabe.” She giggles, and I propel us both onto the bed. She stops laughing when I take her panties off with my mouth. We are naked and intertwined, legs wrapped, hands stroking. Our movements are frantic, and I have to slow down. I want to worship her the whole night, but her hands already stroke me. Her sweet moans make it difficult to contain a sense of preservation. I jerk away for a moment and consider her. Her eyes fill with lust too. She’s here with me, and we are not-just-friends.

“Gabe, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Are you certain you want this?”

“Uhh, yeah. Were you in doubt?”

Every minute I’m with her, I’m in doubt. I never know what she thinks . . . until this magnificent moment. She licks her lips and reaches out to stroke me again. The tension builds to an impossible pace.

“Condom.” I grab my wallet, hoping to find one, and stumble upon three. I congratulate my subconscious for being prepared.

“Let me.” She grabs the wrapper from my hand and rolls it on, stroking and making me even harder.

I coax her lower on the bed and kiss a path over her body. Her skin’s soft everywhere. I kiss until she moans my name. Her lips say exactly what I need to hear before I enter her warm waiting body.

“Ohhhhh, Gabe,” she says.

She fits around me perfectly. Our rhythm picks up. Our bodies seem made for one another. Another thrust and we come together, each moaning and falling into one another. The satisfaction of being inside her is unbelievable. I haven’t experienced this feeling. Ever. Sex always felt great, but with her, it’s beyond comprehension. My entire being wants her on repeat. I crave her body.

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