Feversong
Page 106
Mind neatly compartmentalized with my Jada parts put away and my Dani parts free, I dried my hair, ran my fingers through the tangles, then stepped back and looked at myself. Naked. Clear-eyed. No makeup. No perfume or lotion. Just me.
I’d realized something on the way back to the penthouse. Sex with Ryodan would have been just that, sex. It would have been intense, wild, mind-blowing. Sex with Dancer was much more complicated. It would be making love. It would be sweet, tender, and heart-blowing. But hopefully not literally.
I’d figured out a way to trick myself. Since Dancer taking off my jeans was the moment I kept freezing up, I just wouldn’t put any on. Problem solved.
When I walked naked out of the bathroom, Dancer’s back was to me, but he must have heard me because he turned around, holding the pie and teased, “Mega, I know you definitely want mushrooms on your p-p—PUH.”
The pizza hit the floor and exploded when he dropped it. Crust went flying and sauce splattered across the floorboards and up the cabinets. Not that he noticed.
“Holy fucking fuck!” he said fiercely, then stood with his mouth ajar, saying nothing. After a moment he snapped it shut so hard his teeth clacked together.
He stood there, trying to keep his gaze on my face, like maybe it wouldn’t be polite to stare at my body, and I teased, “Dancer, you big gorgeous geek, I took all my clothes off so you would look at me.”
Permission granted, his gaze dropped like a stone. He looked down, up, down, and up again. I shivered as his gaze moved over me, making me feel hot and cold at the same time.
He stared and stared, and just when I was wondering what I might have to do to move things along, he reached behind his head, yanked off his shirt, unbuckled his belt, dropped his jeans, kicked them away into the pizza sauce, and he was naked, too.
“Couldn’t let you be naked alone,” he murmured.
“No,” I agreed, “that wouldn’t be right.”
“And I want everything to be right. I want it to be perfect for us. For you. You deserve that.” He moved toward me—finally!—still looking me up and down, slow and intense and astonished and gratifyingly awed.
For all my bluster about being epic when I finally had sex, I felt shaky and nervous and not at all composed. Butterflies fluttered from my stomach all the way up my throat. I tested my ability to access the slipstream. It was gone and I was relieved. I didn’t want to hurt him. “I’m pretty sure, since neither of us have done this before, it won’t be perfect.” But he was perfect. I’d seen my share of naked men, and although Dancer got shorted in the heart department, he hadn’t been shorted anywhere else. He was young and hot and sexy and his eyes were brilliant and shining and round with wonder.
“Are you kidding me?” He reached for my hand “With our IQs and hearts, if we can’t make love right, there’s something seriously wrong with us.”
I let him lead me, walking slightly behind him, enjoying the view of his back and ass. His skin was darker than mine but then again pretty much everyone’s is, and I couldn’t wait to touch it everywhere. As he moved, muscles rippled, and I shivered thinking about him stretching naked on top of me, pushing inside, wrapping my legs around him. His name suited him. He moved like a dancer, powerful, controlled, strong.
Stopping at the bed, he turned, stared at me a long moment, then with an explosive exhale said, “Christ, Dani, you’re so beautiful. So, so…”
“Epic?” I said helpfully.
He laughed. “In every possible way. I dreamed about this. Prayed that I’d live long enough and you’d live long enough that you’d grow up and see me as a man. You’re the most fearless, brilliant, incredible woman I’ve ever met. What did I do to deserve you? Are you sure you want me to be your first?” he said, like he couldn’t believe it. “Mega, I’m just a guy and you’re…well, you’re everything.”
His beautiful eyes were so honest and earnest, it melted me. I took his hand and drew it to my body, put his palm against my stomach and slid it up to my breast, shivering when he grazed my nipple with his thumb. “You’re not just anything, and never could be, and you did everything to deserve me. You listen to me and let me breathe and talk and teach me things. You’re brilliant. And you’re kind and good and constant. And you’re epic, too. Yes, I’m definitely absolutely one hundred percent certain I want you to be my first. There’s no one else, Dancer. It’s you.”
Just like that, I banished Ryodan’s ghost from between us.
He inhaled sharply, then his hands were moving on my skin, sliding to cup my breasts gently, then hungrily, and for the first time since I’d met him, he looked at me and did nothing to disguise the lust and desire he felt for me, and I gasped. It was staggering. He wanted me so much! I loved seeing that in his eyes! I felt everything his hands were doing as intensely as I feel all my emotions, like the cells in his body were sinking into the cells of my body, touching me all the way to the place where my soul used to be.
It wasn’t like in movies where everything goes flawlessly and the lighting is all fuzzy soft focus and the music is just right.
That’s illusion. Reality is two people who care deeply about each other, getting to know each other as intimately as possible, and it’s full of sounds and awkward movements and occasional strained laughter. It took us a bit to get past the shaky, nervous part, but when we did, we found that our bodies moved together as easily, hungrily, and passionately as our minds.
When I used to daydream about losing my virginity, I always thought I’d put on a show when I had sex for the first time, be the femme fatale, dazzling, wild, and most definitely on top. I’d rock his world and not think about mine. I’d impress because that’s what I do, I impress because I’m never sure people will like me otherwise.
None of that mattered with Dancer.
He was already impressed with me and I got to be just who I was, and it was slow and easy and beautiful. And it was clumsy at times and so damned personal and vulnerable and he slid his long length over my body and rocked himself into me gently and with exquisite care, cradling my head, staring into my eyes the entire time.
And when we found our rhythm and he moved inside me, I started to cry and couldn’t stop.
Not sloppy.
Just silent tears rolling down my cheeks.
I stared up at him and he looked down and he started to cry, too, and without saying a word, we both understood why the other was crying.
I’d realized something on the way back to the penthouse. Sex with Ryodan would have been just that, sex. It would have been intense, wild, mind-blowing. Sex with Dancer was much more complicated. It would be making love. It would be sweet, tender, and heart-blowing. But hopefully not literally.
I’d figured out a way to trick myself. Since Dancer taking off my jeans was the moment I kept freezing up, I just wouldn’t put any on. Problem solved.
When I walked naked out of the bathroom, Dancer’s back was to me, but he must have heard me because he turned around, holding the pie and teased, “Mega, I know you definitely want mushrooms on your p-p—PUH.”
The pizza hit the floor and exploded when he dropped it. Crust went flying and sauce splattered across the floorboards and up the cabinets. Not that he noticed.
“Holy fucking fuck!” he said fiercely, then stood with his mouth ajar, saying nothing. After a moment he snapped it shut so hard his teeth clacked together.
He stood there, trying to keep his gaze on my face, like maybe it wouldn’t be polite to stare at my body, and I teased, “Dancer, you big gorgeous geek, I took all my clothes off so you would look at me.”
Permission granted, his gaze dropped like a stone. He looked down, up, down, and up again. I shivered as his gaze moved over me, making me feel hot and cold at the same time.
He stared and stared, and just when I was wondering what I might have to do to move things along, he reached behind his head, yanked off his shirt, unbuckled his belt, dropped his jeans, kicked them away into the pizza sauce, and he was naked, too.
“Couldn’t let you be naked alone,” he murmured.
“No,” I agreed, “that wouldn’t be right.”
“And I want everything to be right. I want it to be perfect for us. For you. You deserve that.” He moved toward me—finally!—still looking me up and down, slow and intense and astonished and gratifyingly awed.
For all my bluster about being epic when I finally had sex, I felt shaky and nervous and not at all composed. Butterflies fluttered from my stomach all the way up my throat. I tested my ability to access the slipstream. It was gone and I was relieved. I didn’t want to hurt him. “I’m pretty sure, since neither of us have done this before, it won’t be perfect.” But he was perfect. I’d seen my share of naked men, and although Dancer got shorted in the heart department, he hadn’t been shorted anywhere else. He was young and hot and sexy and his eyes were brilliant and shining and round with wonder.
“Are you kidding me?” He reached for my hand “With our IQs and hearts, if we can’t make love right, there’s something seriously wrong with us.”
I let him lead me, walking slightly behind him, enjoying the view of his back and ass. His skin was darker than mine but then again pretty much everyone’s is, and I couldn’t wait to touch it everywhere. As he moved, muscles rippled, and I shivered thinking about him stretching naked on top of me, pushing inside, wrapping my legs around him. His name suited him. He moved like a dancer, powerful, controlled, strong.
Stopping at the bed, he turned, stared at me a long moment, then with an explosive exhale said, “Christ, Dani, you’re so beautiful. So, so…”
“Epic?” I said helpfully.
He laughed. “In every possible way. I dreamed about this. Prayed that I’d live long enough and you’d live long enough that you’d grow up and see me as a man. You’re the most fearless, brilliant, incredible woman I’ve ever met. What did I do to deserve you? Are you sure you want me to be your first?” he said, like he couldn’t believe it. “Mega, I’m just a guy and you’re…well, you’re everything.”
His beautiful eyes were so honest and earnest, it melted me. I took his hand and drew it to my body, put his palm against my stomach and slid it up to my breast, shivering when he grazed my nipple with his thumb. “You’re not just anything, and never could be, and you did everything to deserve me. You listen to me and let me breathe and talk and teach me things. You’re brilliant. And you’re kind and good and constant. And you’re epic, too. Yes, I’m definitely absolutely one hundred percent certain I want you to be my first. There’s no one else, Dancer. It’s you.”
Just like that, I banished Ryodan’s ghost from between us.
He inhaled sharply, then his hands were moving on my skin, sliding to cup my breasts gently, then hungrily, and for the first time since I’d met him, he looked at me and did nothing to disguise the lust and desire he felt for me, and I gasped. It was staggering. He wanted me so much! I loved seeing that in his eyes! I felt everything his hands were doing as intensely as I feel all my emotions, like the cells in his body were sinking into the cells of my body, touching me all the way to the place where my soul used to be.
It wasn’t like in movies where everything goes flawlessly and the lighting is all fuzzy soft focus and the music is just right.
That’s illusion. Reality is two people who care deeply about each other, getting to know each other as intimately as possible, and it’s full of sounds and awkward movements and occasional strained laughter. It took us a bit to get past the shaky, nervous part, but when we did, we found that our bodies moved together as easily, hungrily, and passionately as our minds.
When I used to daydream about losing my virginity, I always thought I’d put on a show when I had sex for the first time, be the femme fatale, dazzling, wild, and most definitely on top. I’d rock his world and not think about mine. I’d impress because that’s what I do, I impress because I’m never sure people will like me otherwise.
None of that mattered with Dancer.
He was already impressed with me and I got to be just who I was, and it was slow and easy and beautiful. And it was clumsy at times and so damned personal and vulnerable and he slid his long length over my body and rocked himself into me gently and with exquisite care, cradling my head, staring into my eyes the entire time.
And when we found our rhythm and he moved inside me, I started to cry and couldn’t stop.
Not sloppy.
Just silent tears rolling down my cheeks.
I stared up at him and he looked down and he started to cry, too, and without saying a word, we both understood why the other was crying.
