Ugly Love: A Novel(33)

One of his hands moves to my hip and slides beneath the hem of my underwear. “I want you on your back,” he whispers. He keeps one hand on my back as he seamlessly switches positions, pulling me from his lap to his bed. He’s bent over me now, pulling on my underwear as his tongue dips inside my mouth. My hands immediately fall to the button on his jeans, and I unbutton them, but he pulls away quickly. “I wouldn’t do that yet,” he warns. “Otherwise this will be over faster than it started.”

I kind of don’t care how long it lasts. I just really want his clothes off of him.

He begins to slide my underwear off of me. He bends one of my legs and slips it off my foot, then does the same to the other. He’s definitely not looking me in the eyes anymore.

He allows my legs to fall back to the bed as he stands up straight and backs two feet away from me.

“Wow,” he whispers, staring down on me. He’s just standing here, staring at me as I lie naked on his bed, while he’s still in the comfort of his jeans.

“This feels a little unfair,” I say.

He shakes his head and pulls his fist against his mouth, biting his knuckles. He turns around until his back is to me and takes a long, deep breath. He faces me again, scrolling up the length of my body until he meets my eyes. “It’s too much, Tate.”

I feel the disappointment seep in with his words. He’s still shaking his head, but he’s walking to the nightstand. He picks up the box of condoms and opens it, then pulls one out and puts it between his teeth, ripping it open.

“I’m sorry,” he says, frantically stepping out of his jeans. “I wanted this to be good for you. I wanted it to be memorable, at least.” He’s out of his jeans now. He’s looking me in the eyes, but I’m finding it hard to keep eye contact with him, because now his boxers are off. “But if I’m not inside you in two seconds, this is going to be really embarrassing for me.”

He walks swiftly to me and somehow slides the condom on at the same time as he’s pushing my knees apart with his other hand. “I’ll make it up to you in a few minutes. Promise,” he says, pausing between my legs, waiting for my approval.

“Miles,” I say, “I don’t care about any of that. I just want you inside me.”

“Thank God.” He sighs. He takes my leg behind the knee with his right hand, and then his lips meet mine. He thrusts himself inside me so unexpectedly hard and fast I practically scream into his mouth. He doesn’t stop to ask me if it hurts. He doesn’t slow down. He pushes harder and deeper until there isn’t any way we could possibly get any closer.

It does hurt but in the best possible way.

I’m moaning into his mouth, and he’s groaning against my neck, and his lips are everywhere, along with his hands. It’s rough. It’s carnal and heavy and hot, and it’s not quiet at all. It’s fast, and I can tell by the tensing of his back beneath my hands that he was right. This won’t take him long.

“Tate,” he breathes. “God, Tate.”

The muscles in his legs become tight, and he begins to shake. “Fuck,” he groans. His lips press to mine, hard, and he holds himself still, despite the tremors moving throughout his legs and his back. He pulls his lips from mine and exhales a huge breath, dropping his forehead to the side of my head. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he says, still tense. Still shaking. Still pressed deep inside me.

The second he pulls out of me, his lips are on my neck, moving down until they meet my breasts. He kisses them but only briefly before he’s back at my mouth again. “I want to taste you,” he says. “Is that okay?”

I nod.

I nod vigorously.

He pulls away from the bed, disposes of the condom, and returns to his spot next to me. I watch him the entire time, because—as much as he didn’t want to know how long it’s been since I’ve been with a guy—it’s been almost a year. That’s not anywhere near the six years he’s waited, but it’s been long enough that I don’t want to miss this by keeping my eyes closed. Especially now that I get to stare freely at that V and not have to be embarrassed by the fact that I can’t take my eyes off of him.

He’s watching my body now with the same fascination as his hand glides across my stomach, then moves down until he reaches my thighs. He pushes my legs apart as he watches what he’s doing to me with so much enthrallment I have to keep my eyes open so I can watch him watch me. Seeing what I do to him is enough of a turn-on without him even touching me.

Two of his fingers slide into me, and I suddenly find it a lot more difficult to continue watching him. His thumb remains outside me, teasing every spot it can touch. I moan and let my hands fall to the bed above my head as my eyes close.

I pray he doesn’t stop. I don’t want him to stop.

His mouth meets mine, and he kisses me softly, his lips a stark contrast to the pressure of his hand. His mouth slowly begins to explore its way down my chin until it’s on my neck, the dip in my throat, trailing down my chest, covering my nipple, down my stomach, down, down, holy shit, down.

He settles himself between my legs, leaving his fingers inside me as his tongue meets my skin, separating me, causing my back to arch and my mind to let go.

I just let go.

I don’t care that I’m moaning so loudly I probably just woke up the entire floor.