My lips touch his.
And I swear, I swear I felt something foreign brush my cheek.
Maybe his breath, maybe the tremor of his control slipping.
It's this feeling, like you are slowly shedding something old and familiar and blooming into something terrifyingly new.
Like the person you were a second ago doesn't exist anymore.
His lips are so soft, and he tastes like… like home.
Yes, I'm sure of it, he tastes like home.
Like something you didn't know you needed until it's right there, until it presses into you, and then suddenly it's all you can think about.
I kiss him once.
I kiss him twice.
I pull back just enough to see him, and I see that cord of control pull taut inside him, stretching, trembling… and then snapping.
Before I can even register it, he's kissing me again, his lips back on mine.
He traces my lips with his tongue first, slow and teasing, slightly licking them before he slips his tongue into my mouth.
It makes my knees go weak.
He brings me closer, his hands everywhere and not nearly there at the same time, like he doesn't know where to touch first.
He sucks on the tip of my tongue, like he doesn't want to let it go, like he wants more than he's allowing himself.
The pull of his mouth steals my breath completely, makes my stomach drop, makes heat rush through me so fast I feel unsteady, like the world tilts violently and I'd fall apart if he wasn't holding me there.
Warmth spreads across my body in slow, inevitable waves, blooming under my skin and settling deep, curling through my chest and down my spine, until I'm flushed and aching with it, the cold Chicago rain soaking into my clothes and skin but doing absolutely nothing to touch the heat he's lit inside me.
He tugs on my lip, slow and deliberate, then bites it gently, just enough to make my breath catch.
I feel his hands fully around me now, firm and possessive, like he's grounding himself through my body, like if he loosens his grip even for a second I might slip away from him entirely.
And then he pulls back.
He presses his forehead to mine.
"You are perfect," he says.
"I have thought about this so many times," he barely whispers, sounding breathless.
He thinks about… kissing me?
What else does he think about?
"And yet it's better than all of it." He says.
"What else do you think about?" I ask, my lips brushing his as I speak, barely there.
He looks at me then, really looks at me, and something flashes in his eyes.
Something darker. Heavier. More.
Like hunger settling in, unmistakable and patient, waiting for permission to take everything I'm offering.
"I think about this neck of yours," he says.
I move without thinking, tilting my head, giving him better access.
"I think about licking it," he continues softly, "and biting it."
And then his warm mouth is on my neck. His tongue laps at my skin before his teeth nip at the same spot, gentle but possessive.
The sensation makes my breath hitch, and that warmth pools low in my belly, heavy and aching.
"Danny," I say, but it doesn't sound like my voice.
It comes out small, needy.
A mewl.
"Fuck," he breathes. "The sounds you make."
That's all it takes.
He picks me up suddenly, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as his arms support me easily. The world narrows down to him, to us.
He kisses me again, harder now, more urgent, more desperate. He bites my lip, steals my breath. His mouth moves to my neck, my throat, my bare shoulders.
My tank top is soaked through from the rain, plastered to my skin, clinging to every curve like it's betraying me on purpose, doing absolutely nothing to hide my boobs.
The fabric is thin, heavy with water, and my pink bra is completely on display beneath it.
I can feel his attention settle there instantly, hot and unguarded, like his gaze alone is touching me, burning slow and steady, making me acutely aware of my body and how badly he wants it.
He kisses me down to the edge of my top, making me dizzy with every press of his mouth.
And then he stops.
"Rain, baby, we should stop," he pleads, but his voice betrays him.
He doesn't sound like he wants to.
I don't want him to stop.
I want him to keep going.
I want him to tell me everything he's thought about me.
What did he do when he thought about me?
Has he done this before?
Something ugly and sharp snaps inside me, jealousy flaring hot and sudden.
"Have you… have you done this before?" I ask, not looking at him.
He chuckles softly.
"Rain, I wanted you to be my first. My every first," he says, before dipping down to kiss the skin just above my chest.
For some reason, that gives me courage.
"Show me," I say, meeting his eyes.
"Show me what you think of me."
I guide his hands, place them on my boobs.
"Rain…" he breathes, like a warning.
But he doesn't move his hands away.
I cover his hands with mine, gently squeezing, and that's all it takes.
"Fuck it," he mutters, snapping.
He puts me down, and his hands immediately find me, squeezing my boobs with purpose, his fingers spreading wide like he wants to feel all of me at once.
The suddenness of it sends a sharp jolt straight down my spine, steals the air from my lungs, and I gasp helplessly, my body responding before I can even think, melting into his touch like it's been waiting for it.
"Fuck, they're so soft," he says, kneading them, kissing them through the wet fabric at the same time.
"Did you think about them?" I ask, the question slipping out brazenly.
"Rain, I have thought about them. Yes," he admits.
"When you come home, the way your T-shirt fits you. I've tried so hard not to look, not to stare. I really have. But then you laugh, and I'm torn… do I look at that laugh, or the way your boobs move when you laugh?"
His head comes to rest against my chest, like he can't bear to look at me while admitting it.
"What do you want to do?" I ask, my breathing heavier by the second.
I push his head away gently and bring his hands back to my boobs.
"What did you want to do when you tried not to look at them?"
"Baby…" he warns again.
"No. Show me," I say stubbornly.
"I wanted to see them," he admits quietly.
"What they look like. What they'd feel like. If…"
His throat bobs.
"If they're as big as they look. What you'd look like when I kiss your nipples."
He doesn't look at me as he says it, like he's already seeing it in his head.
"Do it," I tell him.
I've wanted this boy for so long.
And now he's mine. He's my first, and I'm his first in every way that matters.
From the moment I saw him at the door, the way he held my hand and showed me his house… all of it leads to this.
This thing we can never go back from.
This thing I never want to go back from.
I pull off my T-shirt, the cold air rushing over my bare skin, raising goosebumps, but I don't feel cold at all.
Heat curls through me instead, deep and insistent, spreading everywhere, pooling low and heavy.
"Rain, are you crazy? What if someone sees you?" he asks, glancing around.
"Do it, Danny," I command.
He pushes me back gently. I hear the soft click of the clasp coming undone, and my breath catches as the straps of my bra loosen, sliding slowly down my shoulders, exposing more of me inch by inch.
Neither of us looks away.
The eye contact alone feels intimate, charged, like we're both daring the other to stop and neither of us will.
He pushes my bra down, not completely taking it off.
Then his mouth is on me, everywhere at once, kisses pressed hot and lingering, teeth grazing just enough to make me shiver, his mouth closing around my nipple with unmistakable hunger.
"Danny, that feels so good," I whimper.
He sucks on it again, his tongue twirling around my nipple before pulling it gently with his teeth and letting it go with a soft pop.
"Yeah? And how does this feel ?"he murmurs against my skin.
He blows cool air on it, making it harden instantly, then sucks it back into his mouth. He repeats the same delicious torture on my other nipple, and I feel like I might shatter.
"I need more, Danny," I plead, my hips moving restlessly, searching.
"Jesus," he breathes, before bringing his mouth back to mine.
He kisses me deeply, relentlessly, like he's starving for it, like every second without my mouth on his is a mistake.
His hands slide down with purpose now, no longer wandering, skimming my skin as if he's claiming ground he's imagined a hundred times. When his fingers reach the hem of my pants, they linger there, gripping lightly, testing, teasing, like he's savoring the wait, like the anticipation itself is driving him just as wild as the touch.
"Let me," he breathes, already halfway there.
My knees nearly melt just looking at him, at the way he's watching me .
I nod frantically, unable to form words, yes, yes, yes spilling out of me in every small movement.
" I'm going to need words Rain." He half chuckles.
Time seems to slow, each heartbeat dragging, each breath too loud.
Every second stretches endlessly as I wait for him to finally touch me again.
" Yes Danny"
His thick fingers skim over my panties, and the contact sends a sharp awareness through me, sudden and grounding.
I stop him for just a moment, my hand closing around his wrist, not pushing him away but holding him there, caught between want and the reality of what we're stepping into.
He stills instantly.
"Rain, I'll stop," he says quickly.
"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
"No, no, I'm okay," I rush out, my voice too fast, too thin, like if I don't say it quickly enough I might lose him.
I swallow, my chest tight, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.
"I'm just… scared."
" What if you don't like me after this? " I tell him, the very thought already blurring my eyes with unshed tears.
"Rain, baby, there's never going to be a day," he says firmly.
"Not one day. I would never do that to you.
I would never feel that way."
"How are you so sure?" I ask.
"Because it's you." He instantly replies.
And with that, I let go.