Falling Under (Falling 3)

“Oz?” Now she’s stopped, the sweater lodged on her chest, at the threshold of following through or covering up. “What do you want?”

I have to speak. She deserves to hear it. “You.” It’s whispered, rasped, but she hears it.

Her arms lift, her back straightens, and now the pale purple sweater is up and off and her hair is streaming through the opening, falling to sway against her back. I’m blinking, barely breathing. My hands skate up her sides, roam around to trace her spine. Her head is bowed, her eyes closed, her nerves taking over. She’s trembling. She needs reassurance.

“You’re beautiful, Kylie.” The words barely make it past my lips, but she hunches her shoulders as they pelt her. “So beautiful. The kind of gorgeous that needs words we don’t have.”

She forces her eyes open, and I can see unshed tears glistening. “I’m scared, Oz. Now that I’m here, with my shirt off, I’m scared.”

“Then put your shirt back on, sweetness. There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

She sniffs, shakes her head, and wipes beneath her eyes with her two middle fingers. “No. I’m not scared because I’m topless. I’m scared because…what if we do this, and it’s not what I think it is? What if you’re just…playing me? What if you get what you want from me, and then you leave? What if…what if…so many what-ifs, Oz. I don’t believe any of them, but they’re still there, and they’re scaring me.”

“If I was going to take what I wanted from you and leave, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”

“I know,” she says. “I believe you. It’s just…all these things are in my head suddenly, now that being with you is on the verge of becoming a reality.”

“What else is in your head?”

She lifts one shoulder, a tiny, unsure shrug. “So much. What if I’m no good? What if I don’t know what to do? What if I’m too scared to go through with it? What if you don’t like it with me? I’ve never done any of this before, and you have. With girls who knew what they were doing. I don’t. They probably weren’t so scared they’re shaking, but I am.”

“If you’re that scared, Kylie, then let’s wait. Just…wait.” Wait till you’re eighteen, I think, but don’t say it.

“No. I don’t want to. I’m scared of disappointing you, that’s all.”

I have to laugh at that. “Jesus, Kylie. You couldn’t. And…what we’re doing? It’s not like anything I’ve ever done before. I care about you, and I want to be everything you think I am. And I want…if we’re going to do this, then I want it to be everything you’ve hoped it could be, and I’m not sure how to give you that. So…I’m just as nervous as you.”

“How are you nervous? You know what comes next.”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t. Caring about you, caring how you feel, that’s new for me. I’ve always been…selfish. And so was whoever I was with. It was just…taking. I want to…to give something to you. Give everything to you.” I blink hard and suck in the truth with a deep breath. “I don’t have much to give, but what I do have, I want to give to you.”

This brings a smile to her lips and to her eyes. “That’s all I need, Oz.” She reaches forward and tugs the hem of my shirt up. “That, and to see more of you.”

“I could probably manage that much.” I lift my arms, and my shirt flies across the room.

Her eyes rake over me, as if she can’t get enough of what she sees. I know the feeling. I let my hands slide up her spine, hover over the strap of her bra. I hesitate there, questioning with my expression. Her chin lifts, the corner of her mouth curls up in a smile, and she takes the button of my jeans in her fingers, flicks it open, and then pinches the tab of my zipper between thumb and forefinger. She waits then, and I know this game. I pull the ends of her bra strap together, feel the clasps loosen, and she pulls the zipper down. I feel my c**k going rigid, pressing up against the elastic of my boxers. Her eyes lock on the fabric of my boxers, visibly tented. I swallow hard, and free the first eyelet on her bra. Tug, free the second. Meet her eyes, and let the third and final clasp fall open. The strap hangs at her sides, dangles from her shoulders, and I reach up, brush it off and down her arms. She lets it fall, sets it aside. I can tell she’s fighting the instinct to cross her arms over her chest, but she doesn’t. My c**k goes from rock-hard to painfully hard.

It’s hard to swallow, hard to breathe. So beautiful, so perfect. Round and high and firm, big, Jesus, so big. Dark pink areolae, thick ni**les, begging to be touched. I can’t help but reach up and gingerly, reverently, cup one of her br**sts, drag my thumb across her nipple and feel the way she twitches as the pad of my thumb brushes her sensitive skin. She blinks hard, bites her lip, and then arches her back. Pushing into my touch. Wanting more. I’m leaning against the wall, a pillow scrunched behind my back, and she’s sitting on me, tall and nervous and the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I run my hand over her diaphragm, the “V” between thumb and forefinger sliding under the heavy weight of one of her boobs. I lift it, holding the soft perfect globe in my hand, kneading, pinching her nipple gently.

“God, Oz. I really like that.” She’s barely breathing, eyes closed, lip caught between her teeth.

“Not as much as I do, I can guarantee you that,” I say.

I lean forward, totally giving in now, and I vow to make her feel so good, so free, so perfect, that she’ll never forget this night as long as she lives, that she’ll never forget how good I made her feel. I don’t care if I get nothing out of it, if she goes limp and falls asleep, sated, before she touches me. My lips touch the upper swell of her cle**age, and then I press a series of small, hot kisses to her warm satin flesh. Her hand rests on my shoulder, and her nails dig gently into the muscle as my lips near the peak of her breast. She’s not breathing at all now, and my tongue slides and slips around the circumference of her areola. I can’t make myself wait any longer. I suck her nipple into my mouth and groan at the taste of her, and she’s gasping, clawing at me.

“Shit, Oz. Holy shit.”

I move to the other tit and give it the same attention, hot wet kisses down the slope, tongue flicking out, and draw her erect, diamond-hard nipple into my mouth and taste her perfection.