This Is Falling(69)
When I feel his finger push into me, I pull the pillow from my head, reaching down to grab the strands of his hair, unable to stop the sensation taking over. I’m so full of need and want—I have become someone else entirely. As Nate stands back to his feet, I sit up at the edge of his bed and pull his boxers down completely, not wanting to wait any longer. I wrap my hand around him, and am bold enough to look. I want to know, no, I need to know how large he is, because I’m nervous, but not so scared that I want to stop. I. Never. Want. To. Stop.
“Let me just get something,” Nate says, walking over to his dresser drawer and pulling out the small foil packet. I watch as he puts the condom on, and I shift back in his bed so my head is once again on his pillow. Nate climbs back on top of me quickly, his hand holding himself so he can guide things to just the right position.
“I have to ask, one more time. Are you sure?”
“Nate, for the love of God, if you don’t have sex with me right now, I’m going to take care of myself,” I say, slapping a hand over my mouth I’m so shocked at my boldness.
Nate grins, and dips his head, kissing the top of my breast with his smile and laughter. “While I also wouldn’t mind watching that…I think I’d rather participate,” he says, kissing me gently as he pushes slowly inside me.
The stretch hurts at first. My body isn’t used to this, and I wouldn’t say my last experience was long—or enjoyable—but I want it to be different this time. I want it to be more, to be the way it’s supposed to be when you’re almost nineteen and in college.
Nate is slow and tender, never pushing into me completely. My eyes are closed tightly, and I’m sure I’m not making a pleasant face when he runs his fingers across my cheek, his lips brushing against the side of my face. “Are you okay?” he whispers, his forearms, biceps, shoulders—every muscle in his body fully flexed to hold himself back.
I say, “Yes,” with a short, fast nod, parting my lips, taking in a sharp breath. “Don’t hold back,” I say, cupping his face in my hands and looking deeply into his eyes. “I just need to take things slowly. But I want this, you…all of it.”
Nate’s eyes search mine, waiting for any hint of reservation as he lowers himself into me again, this time moving in deeper, until he reaches a point where he can no longer move inside me. The sensation makes him suck in a quick breath and close his eyes; my body ignites at the power I have over him. When he rocks back slowly and moves forward again, my hips circle with him, forcing him back in just as deep as he was before. “Jesus, Rowe,” he says, his teeth biting lightly at the skin on my shoulder.
We continue to move together, our rhythm slow, but growing with comfort every time we connect, until I finally feel something begin to build—a pressure, the most pleasurable pressure I’ve ever experienced. It’s almost like an itch, and every time Nate moves back from me, I’m overcome with this fear that if I don’t chase it—it will be lost. Need takes over, and I have to satisfy it, so I pull my knees up on either side of him and thrust my hips up to meet him. When I do, Nate pushes his hands deep into my hair and looks at me for approval.
I kiss him so hard the roughness of his stubble scratches my lips raw as he continues to push into me faster. I guide his hand from my face down the side of my body until he reaches my hip and the side of my leg. When our eyes meet, I nod yes again, begging him to be rougher with me, and he digs his fingers into the side of my flesh, pulling my leg up into his body, wrapping me around him completely. That feeling—the feeling of falling—is so close, and I keep stepping over the cliff, wanting to fall into everything, completely. I hold my breath and run my hands down the length of his stomach, then sides and back, until I’m pushing him into me with force, no longer able to contain the small whimpers leaving my lips.
“Please, Nate. I need to…I don’t know, just please. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” I repeat over and over until it’s barely audible, and my eyes are literally rolling back in my head. My grip on him loosens, and I let my arms fall above me—over my head—feeling every nerve ending inside me fire and pulse and squeeze to the point of pure exhaustion. My body is covered in a sheen of sweat as Nate continues to move into me, his hands roaming up the sides of my body, roughly over my breasts and neck until he finds my arms above my head. He holds them together, his fingers woven with mine, and his strength pushing me deeper and deeper into the mattress. I’m unable to move—not that I want to—and I stare at his face until he finally thrusts one last time, letting out the sexiest breath I’ve ever heard.
We’re a pile of arms and legs and chests and bare skin, tangled in a pink Barbie sheet; I’ve never felt more alive. My hair is damp with sweat, and Nate looks like he just walked off the baseball field. He’s so beautiful, and I’m lost looking at the line of muscles and tendons that begin at his neck and run down his body to his inner thigh. My god, I can’t believe this is my boyfriend. The thought makes me giggle inside, and eventually I let it out.
“Hey, you know that being scared thing you don’t like?” I nod, still laughing lightly. “Yeah, well, guys don’t really like laughing after sex.”
I suck my lips in and shrug my shoulders quickly. Oh god! I didn’t mean that. “Sorry, I was just…happy,” I say, letting a full smile take over my face, and I bury it in the crook of his neck to hide, my cheeks once again burning.