“You couldn’t do it before but it’l be more fun this way if you try,” he said against my lips, his hand curling around my breast, his thumb rubbing along the nipple. I closed my eyes and gave a repeat performance of the day before.
When I opened them again, the playful look was gone and the hungry look was there and I realized I’d given him exactly what I wanted.
“I don’t think I like you,” I told him even as my arms wrapped around him (of their own volition, I swear).
He smiled against my mouth.
“You like me,” he said and he kissed me again.
When he lifted his head, I shook mine.
“No, I don’t like you. In fact, I really don’t like you.” Al of a sudden, his hand moved down my bel y and dipped in my underwear and my eyes widened even as my back arched when his fingers pressed in.
“You like me.” His voice had gone gruff and I knew he had his proof.
Just as quickly as it came, his hand was gone and he grabbed my hand and pul ed it between us, pressing it in his boxers and wrapping my fingers around him and I had some proof too.
“And I like you, and just about now, I can say I’d like to be inside you.”
Just about now, I could say I’d like that too.
I moved my hand against him, rol ing my thumb over the tip. He made a sound in his throat that vibrated in my doo-da and he kissed me with an intensity I’d never felt before in al my not so vast experience.
It was far more hot, far more devastating to my mental health and definitely wild.
He rol ed onto his back, taking me with him, his hand on He rol ed onto his back, taking me with him, his hand on my bottom in my underwear, my hand stil wrapped around him and stroking.
“You could get up now,” he said against my ear as I ran my lips along his neck, smel ing Eddie and knowing I’d never forget that smel or the feel of him in my hand, not for the rest of my life.
“I’ve changed my mind.” I told him.
“About f**kin’ time.” he muttered, his hand moved from my bottom to wrap around my wrist, pul ing it away from him. He knifed up and I straddled him, my head bent down, his tilted back and I was kissing him, my hands going in his hair, both his hands pushing my underwear down my bottom.
“Anyone home?” My mother yel ed.
We both froze, mouth-to-mouth, his hands in my pants, mine in his hair.
“You’ve got to be f**kin’ kidding me,” Eddie said through clenched teeth.
“I don’t understand, Jet never sleeps this late and Eddie’s truck is stil down there. Lavonne, you put the coffee on, I’l just check.”
Eddie pul ed up my panties, his hands went to my waist and he half moved, half threw me to the side.
He angled off the bed and grabbed his jeans as we heard Lavonne’s scratchy voice saying, “Sure thing, Nancy.”
I rol ed over, got out of bed, snatched up my nightshirt and tugged it on as a knock came at the door.
“Jet, dol face? You in there?”
“Jet, dol face? You in there?”
“Yeah, Mom. Coming!” I shouted.
I was standing at one side of the bed, Eddie on the other wearing his jeans; three of the five buttons done up. His face looked like thunder.
“Is Eddie in there?” Mom cal ed.
Eddie’s head swung to me and he looked about ready to commit homicide.