by Sarina Bowen
“Yes... That's... Keep going,” I stammer. It’s hard to stay in character when there's so much tension coiled inside me.
I feel my self-control begin to evaporate as Chastity strokes my cock. I'm trying to be patient and go slow, but I just want to push her down on the bed like a beast.
“Good girl,” I say tightly, gathering her hair in my hand again. “You know what comes next, right?” Slowly, I lower her mouth to my cock.
Chastity is an A-plus student already. She slides off the bed, sinking to her knees on the floor. Then she leans forward and takes the tip of my cock between soft lips.
I let out a helpless curse. But this time she doesn’t startle. Instead, she looks up at me with heated eyes that know exactly how much I'm enjoying myself.
Yup. We’re off the textbook again. Yet we’re on the exact same page. “You make me crazy, you know that? I spent the whole week dreaming about your mouth on my cock.”
She whimpers, then flattens her tongue against the head.
“That’s right,” I hiss. “Try that.”
She starts experimenting—testing the feel of my cock against her tongue, and weighing my shaft in her hand. All I can do is breathe through my desire and murmur my appreciation.
Just when I think I have my control back, she finds a rhythm, using her hand to jack the shaft while sucking on the tip. And I can’t shut up. “Fuck. Yes. More.” I don’t even know what all I’m saying. I just know that I have never enjoyed a blowjob as much as I am right now, as Chastity’s blue eyes lift to watch me getting wrecked by her sweet mouth.
“God, your mouth,” I pant. “Stop now. I’m too close.”
She considers this while giving me a slow suck. Like she can’t decide which way she wants this to go.
And that makes me even hotter. “Are you seriously disobeying me right now? I’m about seven seconds away from coming in your mouth. So if you want me to lay you out and fuck you, you better give it a rest.”
That gets the point across. Chastity releases me suddenly, sitting back on the floor, hair mussed, face flushed.
Jesus lord, that view. I don’t even have her clothes off yet, and she’s already the sexiest sight I’ve seen in years.
Trying to cool down, I stand up and remove my jeans and underwear. I kick off my socks. She watches me with big eyes, and it occurs to me that I might be the first naked man she’s seen in real life.
Does it make me an asshole that I like this idea a whole lot? Maybe.
“Come on,” I say gently, holding out a hand to help her up. “Can I undress you?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “If we lock the door.” She crosses the room and drops the hook into the loop on the back of my door. Then she turns off the light, too.
“Hey, now. Am I not allowed to look at you?”
“You don’t have curtains, Dylan.” She points at the windows, which are completely uncovered.
“So? I’m not a modest guy. Nudity is my default setting.” Just to make the point, I grab my erection and wave it around until she puts a hand in front of her smile. “But I guess we can’t all be this ridiculous. So I have a solution.” I cross to the dresser where there’s a candle I keep there for our frequent power outages. I light it and then turn around.
She’s still watching me with big, hungry eyes. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that look on her face. Was it always there? Did I just not see it? “Come here.”
Immediately, she complies.
I tilt her face up to look at mine. “Is it dark enough for you now?”
“Yes. Sorry.”
“Don’t you ever be sorry,” I say quietly, leaning in to give her a quick kiss. “Now what’s on the syllabus tonight?”
“You choose.”
I like the sound of that. Except last time I’d felt like a pushy beast. “Fine. But what’s off the syllabus? Give me some parameters.”
“Nothing is off limits,” she whispers. “Not one thing.”
Yowza. “But you’ll tell me if I do something you don’t like?”
“You won’t,” she says firmly. Then she lifts her sweater and shirt off in one easy motion.
And I lose my train of thought completely.
Thirty
Chastity
Dylan, naked and turned on, is the stuff of my fantasies. Except he also wants to talk? I can hardly form a sentence right now.
Apparently I made my point, though, because he’s unhooking my bra and then unzipping my skirt. He yanks off my tights, too. As soon as my clothes fall away, I back toward the bed until the mattress hits my knees.
Dylan takes a detour to his bedside table, where he grabs a condom out of the drawer and tears the packet open before sliding it down his dick in a speedy, businesslike way.
Oh thank goodness. I pull back the comforter and lie down on the sheet in a big fat hurry.
Dylan follows me, wasting no time in spreading his big body out over mine. And I don’t have to make any more conversation because he immediately begins kissing my neck, and then my breasts.
I sift my fingers through his thick hair and hold back a moan. His tongue on my nipples is very educational. But he presses onward, kissing his way down my stomach. I tense up as his mouth approaches my pussy.
It was me who said that he could do anything he wanted, but I’m just not sure I can enjoy his mouth down there.
But he parts my legs and makes a happy noise. Then he kisses my inner thighs, one at a time. His lips are soft, and the stubble on his chin is just abrasive enough to make the contrast stand out. It’s pleasant. But my muscles clench anyway because I’m bracing for his next move.
“Shh,” he says. “Relax.”
I try. He kisses my mound. When he flattens his tongue against my clit, I practically leap off the bed, because the sensation is so intense.
Dylan actually chuckles against my pussy. He kisses me again, slowly. Then he uses two fingers to spread me open so he can lap at my sensitive flesh.
I let out a little sob of confusion. It feels so good, but everything is too focused and extreme. I feel too exposed and helpless.
He backs off, kissing my thighs, stroking a tender thumb over my core. I miss his mouth already. My nipples are hard, and my pulse is pounding at my throat.
All my cravings hurt so good.
“I could stay here for hours, you realize,” he says quietly, kissing my pussy again.
“No,” I mutter as my thighs clench again.
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s too much,” I whisper. “It’s better when we’re…” I can’t explain it. “Together.”
“Mmm,” he says, kissing my belly again. Then he rises up, sliding his cock inside me without warning.
I take a sharp inhale from surprise. And then I sigh and relax against the mattress. The fullness makes me feel radiant. There’s nothing like it.
Dylan leans down and kisses me on the mouth. “That’s what you needed, isn’t it?”
My only reply is to wrap my legs around him.
He doesn’t move—he just looks down at me, his brown eyes darker in the candlelight, the shadows deepening the muscles on his arms. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.
“You never answered my test question. How many erogenous zones are there?”
“Dylan,” I gasp. Why is he still talking right now? I tighten my muscles and squeeze his girth inside me. I can’t help it.
He closes his eyes and lets out a hum of pleasure. “That’s one, for sure,” he says, as if this were actually a conversation. “There’s also…” He leans down and kisses my nipple. “And…” He kisses my neck. “And the small of your back, which I can’t reach right now. And the soles of your feet.”
“Dylan,” I repeat, lifting my hips to try to get more of him. “Please.”
“And here.” He lifts my hand and places an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of my wrist. It’s so unexpected that I shiver. “See?”
I do see. But still, I’m impatient.
“Last one,” he says. “But it’s a biggie. Right here.” With his broad thumb, he traces a slow line across my lips.
It’s exquisite. And I’m so desperate right now. I open my mouth and suck his thumb inside.
He groans. “You kill me. You know that, right?” Finally, his hips begin to thrust. He removes his thumb from my mouth so he can go about the serious business of bracing himself on the bed and fucking me. “I tried to go slow. I really tried.”
I’m not even listening, because I finally have exactly what I need. I grab his shoulders and take it. My breasts begin to bounce as he picks up the pace.
He drops his head and gives me his mouth. Our kisses are bottomless, and so am I. Because this is the moment when I feel most at peace. The old Chastity was brought up to serve men. The new one is supposed to serve herself.
This is how they merge. This right here—the candlelight and the scent of heated skin and the cool sheets at my back. The rhythm of the bed squeaking in time with Dylan’s thrusts.
“Can’t get enough of your mouth,” he murmurs between kisses. “Or the view.” He raises himself to look down between us, watching the place where we’re joined. He strokes his fingers across my sensitive flesh.
All that attention is making me self-conscious. I try to pull him down on top of me again. And he lets himself be led, leaning down to kiss me. I love the connection. I wrap my arms around him and stroke the long muscles in his back.
Everything is wonderful for a while until he pulls out suddenly. I let out a gasp of despair, but then he rolls me onto my side, lifts my knee and slides back into place behind me.
I arch my back and moan, because I can feel him so deeply now.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “I know.”
A lovely silence descends on us as we both begin to move. He’s holding my knees apart, which ought to feel ridiculous. But I like the sensation of being braced for him. As if he’s arranged my body for his pleasure.
And mine, too, I guess. Because he slides a hand down to stroke me, and this time I’m ready. His touch converges with the steady drumbeat of his cock. And I can’t take it anymore. I lean my head back against his shoulder and moan as the climax rolls through me.
“Yes,” Dylan encourages me. He lets out a joyful curse and pushes me onto my tummy. It isn’t long before he’s groaning my name and shuddering behind me.
Then he collapses onto my back with the most satisfied sigh I’ve ever heard.
I lie there on the sheet, hoping Dylan never gets up and moves. My body feels hot and thoroughly used, in the best possible way.
But after a few minutes, Dylan disengages. He rolls over, grabs the bedclothes from where we’ve thrown them on the floor, and pulls them up over both of us.
“Come here,” he says, tugging me toward his big body. I slide gratefully onto his bare chest. He rests two lazy hands on my back and lets out a happy sigh.
I nuzzle his chest and stay quiet. It’s not every day that you get exactly the thing that you want. I still don’t quite understand how we ended up here. But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it.
We lay there together for a long time, until someone decides to puncture my perfect little world by knocking on the door. “Dyl! Come downstairs and have a beer with me!” I don’t recognize the voice.
“Maybe next time!” he calls.
“Can I come in?”
“No fucking way.”
The voice laughs.
We don’t hear from him again, but it doesn’t matter. He’s pierced the bubble of being alone with Dylan.
“Take a shower with me?” he says.
I glance toward the door. “But there’re people right outside.” I feel very naked all of a sudden.
Dylan runs a finger down my nose. “You are a fascinating combination of dirty and prudish.”
“Aren’t I?” My face is on fire. “Sorry.”
He leans down and kisses me softly. “Figuring you out is pretty fun, though. I’ve learned a few things already.”
“Like what?” After the words come out, I wonder if I really want to know.
“Well…” He drags a finger across the swells of my breasts. “You like a lot of tongue when you kiss. You don’t care so much for foreplay. You’re all about the cock.”
My face heats immediately. But only because it’s true.
“You don’t like to talk during sex—but you’re truly fearless in action.” He leans down and kisses me. “It’s such a turn-on. I’m already inventing new things I want to try with you.”
“You are?” I’m not able to keep the shock out of my voice. Because that implies we’ll be doing it again.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to help myself,” he says. And then he kisses me again.
Thirty-One
Dylan
It’s getting late, and I’m starting to yawn. Eventually, I convince Chastity that the people on the landing are too stoned to notice us tiptoeing past them. I wrap a towel around my waist and give Chastity my bathrobe for the short trip down the hallway to the bathroom I share with Keith.
The poker game is over, from the looks of things. There’s only two people left on the landing, and they’re discussing whether or not their lips are vibrating in tune with the universe.
Needless to say, nobody notices us or even makes a crack about our sex-tousled hair.
After cranking up the hot water in the shower, I guide Chastity under the warm spray. Then I step in after her, taking a handful of shampoo. I amuse myself by lathering up her hair and then mine.
I’m strangely joyful. Maybe it’s just the endorphins, but I feel so much tenderness toward Chastity. Like our friendship has a secret door I finally discovered. A door marked Smoking Hot Chemistry.
And—fine—it strokes my ego that I’m the only guy she went there with. My politically strident sister had convinced me that virginity is just a social construct. She’s probably mostly right. But I’m gratified that Chastity trusted me with some of her “firsts.”
Is it awful that I enjoyed being the one to show her the ropes?
“Tip your head back,” I say when I need to rinse her hair. I’ll bet she’s never showered with anyone before, either. It’s weirdly intimate to wash another person.
I fucking love it, honestly. I’m such a hedonist. And it makes me happy to train her in my self-indulgent ways.
Gently, I rotate her so I can wash us both. Just to be a goof, I lower my hand to soap up her butt.
Right away, I know something’s wrong. Her smooth, water-slicked skin gives way to grooves and ridges. I hastily lean back, so I can see what the hell happened there.
Deep, whitened scars. Dozens of them. Carved right into her sweet body. “What the fuck.” The harsh words just pop out, and a wave of nausea runs through me.
Someone hurt her, and not just a little. They hurt her badly.
Chastity’s hands shoot back to knock mine away, and she turns around so fast she slips a little.
I grab her arm to steady her, and then our gazes lock. “What happened?” But even as I ask the question, I realize that I already know.
“The night Zach and I got in trouble,” she stammers. “We both got the lash. I know it’s hideous. There’s a reason I never wear bathing suits.”
“Holy shit, Chass.” I reach for her again, but she sidesteps me as best she can in the confined space. That’s when I get a clue and raise my hands in submission. “I’m sorry. I won’t touch it if you don’t want me to.”
She crosses her arms in front of her perfect chest. “Maybe we’re done here?”
I wrecked it. I ruined the moment completely. “There’s a towel right on the rack for you. I just need thirty more seconds.”
“Thanks.”
She steps out of the tub, and I quickly rinse myself. When I shut off the water, she’s already gone. I grab a towel and hurry back to my room, where Chastity is donning her skirt.
“Hey, wait half a second,” I say as I drip wa
ter onto the wood floor. “Where are you going?”
“I should go home,” she says, securing her bra.
“No, you really shouldn’t,” I argue, crossing to my dresser. “It’s late. And cold.” I don’t want to take her back to the dorm right now, but it’s not just laziness on my part. I’d never send Chastity packing after what we just shared. Or anyone else for that matter. “Come on. Come to bed. I’ll give you a T-shirt. When’s your first class tomorrow?”
“Ten,” she says, licking her lips uncertainly.
“Perfect. Me too.” I pull a Shipley Farms T-shirt out of the drawer. “You can go if you want. But I’d rather you put this on and come to bed with me.”
“Okay,” she says after another beat. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me to stay.”
“Of course I want you to stay.” But this is the tricky stuff, isn’t it? This is why sleeping with good friends is scary. “Do you have something against cuddling?”
“I wouldn’t know.” She gives me a quick, nervous smile. “But I just assumed that you did.”
“Why? Vermont is a cold state. Cuddling is one of our top five winter sports. Come here.”
Just as before, she does exactly what I say. “Dylan.”
“Yeah?” I take her hips in hand and tug her against my chest.
“What does the textbook say about this part?”
“Well, you wrap your arms around each other like this.” I enfold her in a hug, and kiss her on the neck. Her hair is wet. She can’t go outside right now. That’s madness.
She hugs me back. “You know what I’m asking. With you and me, what comes after the sex? Tomorrow am I supposed to pretend it never happened? Just tell me the rules, and I’ll try to follow. You don’t date. I know this. So what the heck am I supposed to assume?”
Ah well. I guess we’re getting right to the heart of the tricky stuff, then. But I sure don’t mind her speaking up. It’s so much better than dancing around the question. “First things first. We’re still friends, right? That isn’t up for negotiation.”
“Agreed,” she says, squeezing me.