The Girl He Used to Know(36)

He looked up, brows knitted together. “I’m going down on you,” he said.

“Why would you do that?”

He grinned. “Because I think you’re really gonna like it.”

I pushed his face away. “No, I won’t.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said.

Why would I be embarrassed? “I’m not. It’s just too much for me.” There was no way I could handle that much stimulation.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“So you don’t want me to do that?”

“No.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just do what you were doing before.”

“You mean with my fingers?”

“Yes. That felt good.”

He started over for the third time, and he did everything exactly the way I needed him to. As he touched me, lightly and then more firmly, I felt my arousal building again. I didn’t think it would, but Jonathan touching me felt ten times better than when I touched myself. My orgasm was imminent, but I didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to announce its impending arrival or just let it happen? Janice had forgotten to mention this part. But in the ten seconds or so before I came I stopped worrying if the way I felt or acted was right or wrong, because the sensations Jonathan’s touch elicited were not only manageable, they were incredible. I stopped thinking entirely, and I put my hand over Jonathan’s, holding it tighter against me. When my orgasm arrived I cried out, not caring if it was loud. The sheer pleasure of it washed over me in waves, leaving me boneless and feeling like I was sinking into the mattress.

Jonathan leaned over and kissed me. “I need to be inside you right now, Annika.” He got out of the bed and I heard the sound of a drawer opening.

“What are you doing?’ I asked.

“I’m getting a condom.” I watched with clinical interest as Jonathan took off his jeans and underwear and rolled the condom on. When he got back in bed he settled his body between my legs. Holding himself up on his arms, he started to push into me in infinitesimal increments. He was careful, and gentle, but there was an urgency I could hear in his breathing. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Am I hurting you?”

It wasn’t unpleasant, but I felt stretched in a way I never had before. “It stings a little. It’s okay. Keep going.”

A minute or so later he began to thrust into me faster, going deeper, and then his body began to shudder and shake. He groaned loudly and then collapsed on top of me, his cheek resting on my chest. I could feel the pounding of his heart, his warm skin. He was still inside me, and I wondered how long he planned on staying there. “That was incredible,” he said.

“Did I do it right?” I asked.

Jonathan made a sound. Sort of like another groan, but softer this time. “You did it exactly right.”

“Do you think you’ll want to do it again?”

“Definitely,” he said, pressing a kiss to my neck. “Do you want to do it again?”

“Could we rest for a little while first?” In order to handle more touching, I would need a break.

“Absolutely. Whatever you want.” He withdrew from my body, which was an incredibly odd sensation, and got out of bed. As he walked toward the bathroom he said, “I’m going to need a few minutes anyway.”

When Jonathan returned he slid back under the covers and pulled me into his arms, tucking me into the space under his chin, with his arms wrapped around me. He sighed, stroked my cheek, and rubbed his foot along my leg.

It felt like being trapped in a hot steel cage. I would have rather thrown off the covers and stretched out on the bed, moving my arms and legs as if I were making a snow angel, than be held.

But I’d seen this in movies and read about it in books.

This was cuddling.

Cuddling occurred after sex.

So I stayed put, letting him rub my shoulder and kiss my ear. He seemed drowsy, yawning like he might want to take a nap.

After fifteen minutes of this I started to get out of bed. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“It feels sticky between my legs.”

“But I used a con— Oh. Stay here. I’ll get a towel.”

When he returned I pulled down the covers and spread my legs. Jonathan leaned down to examine me. “There’s a little blood,” he said. “That’s probably what you felt.” He must have run the towel under the faucet, because it was warm and damp. I lay back as he ran it lightly over my inner thighs and then between my legs.

“Annika, I think I’m ready again.”





19


Annika


CHICAGO

AUGUST 2001



I’m eager to meet with Tina today. I feel like there are so many things I can share that I’m proud of, and I want her to be proud of them, too. Plus Audrey was out sick today, so I had a great day at work.

“Jonathan took me to a work function,” I say after Tina leads me into her office and we’ve sat down. “I didn’t say anything stupid, at least I don’t think I did. I met his boss and most of his coworkers. It was exhausting and I had a splitting headache afterward, but I did it.”

Tina knows that one of my coping mechanisms is to mimic the behaviors of others. She said it’s a useful tool and that I should do whatever helps me the most.