that I had a few minutes ago when I attacked him after he spoke ‘80s to me.
“There is no way I’m bloody losing it and coming after a one-minute head job. That is not how this will go down in history,” he says, which makes me laugh hard. I let go of his dick and continue to laugh with tears running down my face. I’ve never in my life made a guy come—well, I never in my life made Jeff come from just a blowjob—and if Liam were to come from this simple act alone, my ego and I would be incredibly grateful to him and his impatient dick.
When I stop rolling on the bed laughing, I say to him, “God, Liam, I wish you would come in my mouth. I’ve never made Jeff come just from oral before.”
His eyebrow turns up at my comment and then he pulls me up on top of him. “What am I going to do with you? I’ve never come from oral, either, so it could be a first for both of us.” He gives me a kiss—it’s slow and sweet. He pulls away and adds, “Don’t talk about him when we’re naked. You can tell me anything and everything about your life, but not yet.”
After gazing into his eyes for as long as I have, I could probably describe every magnificent flake and different shade of blue that make up the most beautiful eyes—besides Emily’s—I’ve ever seen. I run my hands through his hair and that, too, is made of different shades of blond. Fuck, I hope I don’t grow fond of him, because he makes it too easy to like him. We’re getting as physically close as two people can and it’s perfect. Shouldn’t I feel wrong about being with him? No, it can’t be wrong. With each touch, nothing about us feels wrong. I don’t know this feeling of being with someone and not feeling disgraceful about it. I will always look for a reason why I shouldn’t be with someone, thanks to my history. Wouldn’t it be nice if I could just enjoy a moment like this with a stranger for what it is?
It’s peaceful just being by his side in a quiet room, nestled inside a private retreat atop a New York City landmark. My heart beats faster than it has in a very long time and yet it’s a calm kind of chaos; I’m at peace. I think of how we pass hundreds of people every day and each one of them has a story. I have a story, Liam has a story, and we know close to nothing about each other, and yet I feel that he gets me better than all my friends and family combined. I haven’t told him anything, but he’s the only person in the world that I want to.
He looks at me and yet I don’t feel ashamed for looking back. I haven’t lied to him about my life, and that alone makes me want to live, to keep going, to start again. I haven’t wanted that in forever. He doesn’t even comprehend what he’s doing for me and I’m not sure I will ever be able to repay him for this, but Liam is saving me—one look at a time.
“Thank you, for this,” I say, and feel like a moron the second the words are out of my mouth. I blush at my stupidity and can’t believe I’ve said thank you to a dude for agreeing to fuck me. This has to be a new low, even for me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. It’s like I’m thanking you for being my fuck buddy.”
“You don’t need to thank me, or apologize, or even say another word. I’m trying to figure out what’s happening between us and I’m…I’m…I’m all right with not fully understanding. You’re lovely and I’m grateful you’re here with me, and it’s bloody insane because I didn’t even know you existed before yesterday.”
I love hearing him talk; his words are just right. If he knew what his words do to me, he would probably run for his life. I want him, and it’s surreal being here with him, both of us wanting the same thing—sex! He smiles and I can’t help but mirror it with my own lips. Boys could make you smile; boys should make you smile! I think I may have found a British boy that can make me smile for a