E. Blair - Falling

I pull her shirt out from her bra and lower it back down, covering her again before I lean over her, bracing my hands on the bed.

“Thanks,” I whisper, and she rolls to her side as I lower myself next to her.

I move in and lightly graze my lips across hers, just wanting the feel of her before I cover her mouth with mine. She tangles her hands in my hair, and everything about her touch makes me want her. And even if this is all she’ll give me right now, it’s more than the meaningless sex I’ve had with all of those other women. Everything is so much more with her, and I can’t help but think about what it will be like when we finally get there. If just kissing her feels like this, I can’t even imagine what I’m in for.

I roll her onto her back, finding it hard to control myself. I run my kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. She grips my arms, and her hold is tight on me when I reach down and grab on to her thigh, needing more of her as I run my hand slowly up her leg. Burying my head in her neck, she clamps her hand around my wrist, stopping my hand from moving between her legs.

Pulling back, I look over her face, but she keeps her eyes down and then whispers, “Sorry.” But there is nothing about this that she needs to be sorry for because I can feel her trying, and that’s all I need from her.

“You don’t ever have to be sorry,” I tell her as she looks up at me. “God, you’re beautiful.”

She doesn’t respond when I tell her this, but it’s okay. I’ve never ached for anyone like this. I’ve never ached to touch someone so badly before. So to hold back with her hurts because it’s the last thing I want to do. But I know I’m falling in love, so I do it.

Taking her hand in mine, I hold it as I run my other hand through her hair.

“Stay with me,” I tell her, not wanting to spend the night without her.

“I told you, I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t,” I respond. She’s spent the past two nights here with me and told me this morning that she was going to go home tonight. I get that she doesn’t feel comfortable being here every night, but I don’t want her to go either.

“Ryan,” she breathes out. “Don’t make me feel bad.”

“I don’t want to make you feel bad; I just want to keep you in my bed,” I say with a sly grin to lighten the mood because I really don’t want to make her feel bad for wanting a night in her own bed.

She shakes her head at me, then pulls me down to her and kisses me, holding me close. We continue like this for a while and it makes the anticipation so much worse when I keep thinking about what it would be like if she would just let me touch her. So when she finally does leave, I take that anticipation to the shower.

Turning the water on hot, I let it wash over me as I allow my mind to run free. God, I want her, and the more time I have with her, the harder it is to control myself. Having her stop me when all I wanted was to keep running my hand up her thigh. To know what she feels like. To let myself go with her.

I can’t hold back when I fist myself in my hand, imagining her soft skin against me. Fantasizing about having her naked in my bed and how she would look. My mind begins to lose itself in a myriad of thoughts when I finally zone in and see her so clearly.

She lies underneath me, running her hands along my chest, with a sated look on her face while I move inside of her.

The intense vision causes me to catch my breath, and I have to brace my hand on the tile wall, dropping my head.

Her legs wrap around my hips, pulling me in deeper, gripping my hair in her hands. Her body is warm against mine while she moves with me. She’s into it, losing herself.

The hot water runs down my back, and my shoulders tense as I begin stroking myself faster.

I drag my tongue over her nipple and suck it into my mouth, making her breathe my name for more.

Tightening my grip, I work myself through my heady breaths.

Sitting back on my knees, she rocks her hips into me, bowing her back off the bed as I run my hands up her torso and between her breasts. She’s completely exposed to me. Her naked flesh, smooth, damp with sweat.

My muscles tighten, and I feel myself swell as I’m about to go.

She’s moaning.

I’m panting.

Running my hands inside of her thighs, I slide my thumb over her wet core as she throws her head back into the pillow.

“Uhh, fuck,” I moan out when I finally feel the pulses of release I’ve been needing from the eagerness that’s been building up inside of me. I let it go as my head falls back while I ride out the images that are still reeling in my mind. The air is thick with steam, and when I’m able to stand without the support of the wall, I turn the heat down on the water to cool off before I get out.

After my shower, I get ready for bed and slide under the covers, replaying our evening together. Thinking about how she looked when I was photographing her. Realizing, that in her own way, she was finally opening herself up to me with her trust. It wasn’t obvious, but I saw it anyway.

I grab a pillow from her side of the bed, and smile at the thought that I’ve allowed a girl to claim a side of my bed. But I have and I like it. Rolling onto my side, I wrap my arm around her pillow and can smell her on the fabric. She smells so good; I know I’ll never grow tired of it, so I lie there as she finds a way to flood my mind again.

Fuck, I need another shower.

Candace stopped by a few days ago to pick up the photo after I finished enhancing it. I think she was surprised to see herself like that. Even if it was just the sway of her back, the photo was beyond sensual. For some reason, she’s really uncomfortable with exposing herself. She’s confident in her body—it would be odd if she wasn’t, being a dancer and all—but being comfortable with herself in a sexual way doesn’t seem to come easily for her. It could just be that she’s never been that way with a man, but I see her starting to try with me.

The whole thing got me thinking about how I spend my time. Candace keeps herself busy with work and school, but mostly with dance. She loves it; it’s her passion in life, and I admire her focus. I don’t have a focus like that in my life, and although she takes it a step beyond most people, I feel like I need to find something outside of work and Candace to do with my time. I talked to her about this yesterday on the phone, and she encouraged me to spend more of my time working on my photography.

I’ve always enjoyed the editing aspect of it, but never took a whole lot of pleasure in the actual shoots until last weekend when she let me shoot her. She made me a very loose promise that she would let me photograph her again, and I plan on holding her to her word.

I hear my phone chime in the next room, and I’m surprised to see Gavin’s name when I open his text.

You at work?

Home. What’s up?

In the area. Mind if I stop by for a while?

Come on over.

After the random run-in that Candace and I had with him the other week, I didn’t think I would actually hear from him when he said he would be in touch. But when he gets here, he says he just wanted to stop by and catch up. So we crack open a couple of beers and flip on ESPN, hanging out like we used to do, simply killing time.

“So I ran into Max and his girlfriend the other night,” he tells me.

“Oh yeah, where at?”

“Lakeside,” he says and then takes a pull of his beer before adding, “Did you know she’s pregnant?”

“Yeah, man. I knew.”

Shaking his head, he says, “I couldn’t believe it when he told me that shit. We used to have so much fun before he got tied down with that chick. Speaking of chicks, who was that girl you were with the other day?”