Page 58 of I Hear You

That’s the last thing I want to do. I notice I can feel Henry's breath on my back now, just below my neck. It’s faint, but I feel a rhythmic warmth. It’s sending shivers down my entire spine.

“I really don’t. I will, though, not right now,” I tell him.

The room is quiet again, but I can feel the bed shift. Henry’s breath on my back gets more noticeable, warmer. He’s movedcloserto me. I shift just a little, moving closer to him, wanting to feel more.

“Madison,” he whispers.

I respond to him with ahmmnot able to form any coherent words at the moment.

“Turn over.”

His voice is deep and rough, his tone demanding. I don’t even hesitate for a second. I turn over and face him, finding him practically in the middle of the bed now–where the pillow barrier used to be. My arms are curled up, clasped under my head as I lay on my side facing him. He’s on his side facing me, one hand cushioned under his pillow, the other splayed flat on the bed in the small space between us. The sheets are pulled up only halfway on his torso so I can see his bare chest now, the curve of his muscles in his shoulders and the dips and divots surrounding the muscles. I can only make out part of his tattoo, but what I thought I saw before is definitely a bird. Not just a bird, but asparrow.

I gasp when I see it and strain my eyes, trying to read the text that falls lazily across his chest, meeting with the bird over his heart. I meet his gaze and I can see fire burning in his eyes; longing, desire. I scoot a little closer and Henry takes in a steady, deep breath. Slowly, I stretch out my hand toward his chest, my eyes darting back and forth between looking at him and looking at the tattoo. He never takes his eyes off mine.

My hand finally meets his smooth skin. Henry lets out the faintest moan, and my entire body reacts to the sounds. My toes curl at their own volition, goosebumps spread across my skin and a pleasurable burning starts low in my stomach. I begin trailing my fingertips across the words–my words, my poem.

“When?” I ask him, still staring at the tattoo, still running my fingers lightly across it.

“My eighteenth birthday.”

That was at the end of February, which means he got itafterI stopped responding to his emails. I haven’t stopped running my hands over the tattoo and Henry brings his hand up and lays it gently over mine. He follows my lead and traces along the words and the sparrow with me. We’re staring right into each other's eyes, our breaths syncing up. They escape our lips lazily, in and out. Henry grips my hand a little tighter, holding it still over the sparrow, over his heart, and pushes it flat against his chest. He pulls his hand away from on top of mine and I instantly miss it, miss his touch.

Hesitantly, he reaches across the small gap between us and runs a strand of my hair between his fingers, letting his hand linger next to my face. My breath picks up as he moves his hand down painfully slow, barely touching me with the very tip of his fingertips. First my cheek, now down my neck–I tilt my chin up. Giving him more access, more freedom to touch me.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice laced with desire.

“Yes!”

I’m barely able to get the words out, but when I do, my voice is pleading. I’m practically begging him for more. To move faster.

He makes it to my shoulder, hooks the strap of my top and drags it down with his fingers as they keep making their descent. A whimper escapes my mouth as the side of his hand brushes the silk nightie covering my breast.

The whimper is a catalyst–his hand has moved behind my back in mere fractions of a second and he’s dragging me across what space is left between us. Our bodies collide in the center of the bed. Our noses are touching now and our breaths intermingle between us. Neither of us moves. We’re both lying here with our eyes closed and our chests pressed against each other.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

He’s not asking me, but I give him permission anyway.

“Please.”

His lips are pressed against mine before I could even get the word out completely. His hand grips at the back of my shirt. This time, I’m the one to deepen the kiss. I part my lips and slip my tongue between them. Eager to gain access to his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate to let me in and meets my tongue with his. A low primal growl escapes his mouth, mine muffling it. I hitch my leg up and over his hip and his hand moves from my back to my ass, grabbing full fistfuls of my flesh peeking out of the bottom of the silk shorts I’m wearing.

I cautiously roll my hips into him, needing to ease the desire building between my legs. His hand gripping my ass helps to push me into him. Laying on our sides this way, I can’t feel all of him, but I feel enough through his thin cotton pants to feel his cock straining against the fabric. I don’t have to wonder what all of him feels like for long because his other hand slides under me on the bed and he rolls to his back, bringing me with him and positioning my throbbing clit perfectly over his erect shaft. It’s thick and hard and takes me longer than I expected to slide from the base to the tip.

I continue rolling my hips over him, quiet moans escaping both of us between kisses. I think we’re both trying to control ourselves, but I don’t want to control myself. I want to rip all of our clothes off and let him bury himself in me. I need him to. His hands are on my hips and he grips them tighter, pressing me down harder onto him. I gasp and arch my back, coming up to fully sit on his dick now and pressing my hands to his chest.

He stops moving underneath me and stills my hips with his hands.

“Madison, we need to stop or I might not be able to stop.”

“What!?” I almost scream, looking down at him. “You want to stop?”

“Mads, no, I don’t want to stop. Ever. But I don’t know if you’re doing this because of the day you’ve had or–”

I choose to interrupt him by covering his mouth with mine, sucking in his bottom lip and nibbling on it. I earn myself a low moan from him in response. I sit back up and lift the silk night shirt over my head, his eyes widening as I do.

“I want this. I want you, Ender.”

---