The Space Between Us(25)
Reeve chuckled and turned to me. “Charlie, you and Asher have been together since fifth grade. Your relationship is only news to you. Everyone else has just been waiting for you guys to figure it out.”
So that’s what we did. Asher and I figured us out. We went to football games, school dances, movies; all the places teenagers should go. We spent most of our time out with groups, but my dad still allowed us to go to the park and the school alone, figuring out in public was safe territory. He was mostly right.
We found private places to kiss. The gazebo, the swings, the tree-covered arch through the alley on the way to the school. There was nothing as exciting as kissing Asher. It was exciting because it was new, at first. Then it became a new kind of exciting. Asher was always, without fail, respectful of me and my body. He never pushed my boundaries and always waited for me to move us forward.
At first, our kisses were sweet. We were so happy to just be kissing each other; that offered enough excitement. But eventually we both realized that a kiss on the neck, or a kiss on the shoulder or the ear, brought on a different kind of excitement. Mouths began to wander, both of ours, and I began to acquaint myself with desire. Slowly, over the year, we explored each other.
One night, about a year into our relationship, an hour before I had to be home, it was dark and we were on a bench far into the park. We hadn’t seen anyone in the park for about an hour as it was getting chilly. Asher had his coat unzipped and I had my arms threaded around him, at first to keep warm, but now body heat wasn’t an issue. Now I was using my arms to hold him close to me as we made out in the darkness. Without thinking much about it, I moved my hand underneath his shirt and felt everything inside me clench as my fingers came into contact with his bare stomach. He gasped at my touch, seemingly just as surprised as I was that I had made the move. Our lips separated, but only enough to breathe, our faces still touching as my hands remained on his body.
“Is this ok?” I asked him. He nodded.
“Don’t stop,” he said quickly, then pressed his lips to mine again. There was a new level of passion moving between us and the high it gave me made me brave. I began to move my hands up his torso, feeling the strong muscles of his abdomen. Every ridge bumped between my fingers and it was a new way to see him. I used my hands to paint a picture in my mind of what his chest looked like, memorized his body with my mind as if to draw it later.
I felt his hands gripping my shirt, tugging on it, and I let my bravery make me bolder and I drew his hands up my stomach, trying to give him the go ahead to do a little exploration of his own. His hands moved hesitantly over my ribcage and I felt his fingertips graze the very edge of my bra. The sheer excitement of knowing his hands were so close to my breasts caused all kinds of things to malfunction and go haywire in my body. My arms and legs began to tremble as if I were cold. My heart seemed to be pumping blood quicker than it ever had before, and my mind kept thinking thoughts like, “His hand is near my boob,” and “He’s going to touch my boob.”
When his hand finally made it over the rim of my bra and that first contact happened, I felt him stop breathing. He stopped kissing. He stopped everything. His hand gently rubbed on the underside of my left breast and the rest of our bodies froze. His hand moved up and over the mound and the vibrations his hand made on the cotton fabric brought new zings of arousal to my body. My mouth opened without permission and I made a noise against his lips that sounded like a whimper.
Our faces were just centimeters from each other and I saw his eyes searching for mine. Our eyes connected, our bodies rigid with the new sensations of excitement coursing through us, Asher moved his hand to fully cup me. Gently squeezing, softly gripping, he seemed to be taking great care in familiarizing himself with my breast. His other hand slipped beneath the fabric of my shirt and slid up along my back, the tips of his fingers sneaking beneath my bra strap.
His thumb brushed over my nipple and the jolts of sensation zipped through my whole body, causing me to gasp.
“Is this ok? Are you ok?” Asher asked, his hands stilling.
“Yes,” I said as I pressed a kiss against his lips. “It just feels, uh, really good.” I instantly felt the heat of my blush creep over my face. His face, however, was overcome with a smug look of satisfaction.
He kissed me again, a little harder than our previous kisses, more insistent. His hands roamed a little more freely, his confidence bolstered by my admission. I felt his hand on my back rubbing against the strap of my bra and I knew he was silently asking for permission to unclasp it. My mind ran at hyper-speed. I loved the way he made my body feel and I wanted him to continue, but I just kept thinking about how I was straddling him on a park bench. Then his thumb did that brush-over-my-nipple thing again and any self-control I thought I had went out the window.
I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra for him, assuming he’d have a hard time with it on his own. My bra hung loosely from my shoulders, only being kept on by the shirt I was still wearing, but he had enough room to sneak his hand beneath the fabric and touch me, skin on skin.
“Are you sure, Bit?”
If my eyes had been open he would have seen me roll them. What kind of girl unclasps her bra and then tells the boy whose lap she’s sitting on not to touch? But my arousal and need at the moment prevented my snarky comment from verbalizing. I just nodded and said, “Please.” My voice sounded strained and deep. I don’t recall ever hearing my voice like that before. He didn’t waste any time and I felt him move his hand beneath the underwire, his soft fingertips slowly moving over the bare skin of my breast. His other hand came from behind my back and moved to tend to the neglected one.