Page 68 of The Friendship Study

She stops laughing, a small tragedy except for the slow curve of her mouth, the way her eyes get big.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

She bites her lip, lifting her hips so I can pull her panties down. Her skin is slick, hot, pink and her hair golden brown. I blow across her skin.

“Jesse,” she growls. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes wide as she props herself up on her elbows.

“What do you like?”

“Just touch me.”

I press my palm to the inside of her thigh.

She flops back on the bed, throwing her arm over her eyes.

“I don’t think you want it bad enough yet,” I say, close to her so she can feel the rumble of my voice. She responds by petting herself with her middle finger and holy fuck, I think I love her. I love that she is sweet and nerdy, the sound of her voice, the way her hair clings to me. I love that she is braver and stronger than she knows. I love that she is smarter than me. She makes me feel like myself again.

I reward her boldness and kiss around her finger, slide my tongue against it and she moans, lifts her hips off the mattress. She grabs at my head as my tongue moves over her. Her heels dig into my shoulder blades, pulling me closer until my nose is squished against her. It’s fine. I don’t need to breathe. I just need to taste more of her salt and sweat, hear her as she says my name, makes those soft sounds, her gasps.

“Don’t stop,” she says.

This doesn’t feel like the first time. I know these sounds, her taste. I know that as her hips lift, her legs saw, she’s getting closer. It’s just a continuation of every time, of the first time when she kissed me against her door and every time after. She pulls me closer, her fingers gentle on my ears but her heels hard against my back. I wish I had hair so she could pull it. She’s so wet, squeezing me so tight. Then everything releases. She pulses against my tongue. Her breath catches again and again. Her fingers slowly let go. Everything is suddenly quiet, except for my pulse. I hear it everywhere.

“Come here,” she mumbles, weakly pulling at my arms. I take off the rest of my clothes, find a condom in the drawer beside the bed. She watches me roll it on with heavy-lidded eyes, her fingers playing at her nipple and between her legs.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you completely naked,” she says.

“What do you think?” I ask. It sounds more vulnerable than I intend. Lulu sits up slowly, her legs hanging off the bed. She bypasses my cock, jutting out almost comically. She massages her thumbs along my hips, following the undefined lines on either side downward. She runs her palms around my body and cups my ass. I adjust my stance, spreading my feet wider.

“Is this OK?” she asks, dragging her hand up my inner thigh.

It feels like stars are bursting under my skin.

“It’s OK,” I say, since I can’t make myself say that.

She kisses me. Her lips leave a sticky imprint from where I haven’t kissed off all of her lip gloss yet.

“I think you’re beautiful, Jesse. I’ve always thought that.” She holds up her hands, framing me between her thumbs and forefingers, closing one eye like she’s squinting through a camera’s viewfinder.

“What are you doing?”

“Remembering this forever,” she says, like it’s obvious.

I love her for this, too. Not just because I am the object of her affection but because somewhere along the way I forgot to enjoy the small things. I forgot to capture perfect moments or have a favorite tree and I wonder how much better my life would be if I had never forgotten.

I’m grateful for the chance to learn, again.

She lies back and I lie beside her. I run my palm over her heated skin, her breasts that I can freely touch, the soft curve of her stomach. I kiss her shoulder, the scrape on her wrist from her fall earlier today, her hairline. Her hands move over me, scratching down my chest, her nails dragging along the seam of my ass. My cock pulses with my heartbeat. I can feel my arousal in the back of my teeth, my balls, my lower back. There’s just so much I want to do with her, I don’t know where to start. Finally, she makes the decision for me.

Lulu rolls onto her side away from me, bringing my arm with her so that I’m wrapped around her, her back to my front. From this angle, it’s easy to bend her knee, to slide my cock between her lips, slick and wet. To pump into her with short strokes. To be engulfed in her heat, the warm fist of her pussy. I lever up on my other arm to watch the blush roll across her skin as we move and I slide my leg between hers to open her up so I can pet and stroke her clit with the same leisurely rhythm.

I want this to last forever but it will probably end sooner than I hope. We fit together too well. Like a matched set.

“Touch me here,” she whispers. She moves my hand up her body. We cup her breast together. She squeezes, shows me how hard she wants it—harder than I expected. She reaches behind her to guide my mouth down to the long column of her exposed neck. Her pulse beats against my tongue.

“Can I leave marks?” I ask, my lips ghosting over her skin.

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