“They aren’t that tight.”
I propped myself up on my elbows to watch the show and implore him to hurry with my greedy eyes.
“Yes they are, and right now they are in the way.”
He stopped messing with his zipper for a second to stare at me, but I was shimmying out of my yoga pants and that was enough to spurn him back into action. The denim and leather hit the floor with a clatter and I blinked in surprise when I was face-to-face with not only an impressive erection and ripped abs, but another hoop that I hadn’t been expecting. Since Shaw and I talked about everything, I knew that this group of guys was into this kind of thing, but I had never seen it before, let alone had one anywhere near me. I licked my bottom lip and twirled a finger in the air in front of him.
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
He laughed a little and pushed his hair back from his face. “Enjoy it?”
I shook my head a little as he grabbed my ankle and pulled me to the edge of the bed so that I was way closer to it and to him than I was ready for. Anticipation was building and steaming under the surface, but the fear of the unknown was still lurking, and the metal in the unexpected place was a welcome distraction. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
He laughed again and I wanted to touch it. I was reaching out tentatively, worried that it would hurt him, worried that I was going to do something wrong. He grabbed my hand and wrapped the whole thing around the shaft and gave it a squeeze. “I’ve had it forever. I don’t even think about it. You can touch it, you can lick it—in fact why don’t you do both of those things on a regular basis?”
I slid my hand back and forth and felt him shudder a little under my light touch. I let go and used my index finger to gently brush the metal. It was hot from being pressed against his skin and the little ball in the center of the ring was smooth. I could only imagine what it felt like when he did his thing. It was as hot as it was intimidating.
“This should be interesting.”
He winked at me and leaned over to grab a condom out of the nightstand next to his bed. I was sure the anticipation was going to kill me. He handed me the little foil package and shoved me back on the bed. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders and looked up into eyes that held everything I ever wanted in them.
“We have to get you to step outside the box, Ayd. None of the best stuff is found in the mainstream.”
He was right. But the mainstream was safe, and no one ever got hurt or judged or ostracized in the mainstream. Now wasn’t the time for that argument, because he was kissing me again and doing things to my puckered nipples that only a guy who played the guitar like he did could do. There was something in the way he touched me, the way his fingers pressed into my skin, the way his teeth left marks, and the way the metal scattered here and there sent goose bumps chasing after it, that erased any and all others who had ever tried to get to me. He was hard and he was soft; his mouth was all velvet and steel, and I wondered if there was no going back from this point with him.
Only Jet made that happen. Only Jet had me forgetting that I wasn’t a girl who simply gave herself over to passion and mindless oblivion, and only Jet made me scream his name when he pushed my legs apart and touched me, stroked me, did all the things he did to me in that bathroom the other night. Only this time, it ended with me seeing stars and pushing him over onto his back so that I could climb on top of him. This boy could play a woman as well as he could play a guitar; there was no doubt about it.
I looked down at him lying beneath me and something inside me shifted. I had wanted him for so long. He was impressive, talented in a way that hurt, and undeniably gorgeous in a way that spoke to something primitive and instinctual inside me. I didn’t care about the future when I looked at him, didn’t care that his plans did not go beyond a guitar and a pretty song. All I cared about was that he never stopped looking at me the way he was right now, and that when he said my name in that beautiful voice, he said it like it was the lyric to his favorite song.
I used both hands to cover him in the latex, because I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure what to do with that ring at the tip, and frankly I was nervous. Sex was just a thing I had done before. Sometimes it was good, sometimes it wasn’t, but whatever was happening here was on another level. I knew that once the bridge was crossed, that whoever came after him was never going to stand a chance. I could feel it as I breathed him in and watched him watch me. This had been a long time coming and now the actuality of it was as potent as the act itself.
There was something in the way he touched me just a little harder, the way he kissed me a little longer, the way he pushed me a little farther than I normally wanted to go that made this different. It was like every place he touched, every place his lips landed, became extra sensitized and overstimulated. I felt like I was going to come right out of my skin.
No part of me escaped his thorough and attentive ministrations; no one had ever been as attentive to my body. I think he even managed to discover new spots, parts of me that I didn’t even know turned me on, like the back of my neck and the inside of my wrist. Everywhere his hands landed—the curve of the underside of my breast, my rib cage—his mouth followed, and it felt like he was trying to leave his mark on every inch of my skin so that no one else could ever be there. There was just something about the startling contrast between the soft caress of the tip of his tongue and the hard metal ball in the center that was more erotic than anything I had ever experienced before. There wasn’t a place on any part of me that didn’t get a nip of teeth, and by the time I couldn’t take anymore, by the time I was past wet and wanting, it was all I could do to keep it together when he pulled me up and over him.