my pants down to just above my knees. His
fingers press back at my opening, and I feel a new kind of pressure that forces
me to open my legs a little wider. I realize why – he's using three fingers,
stretching me out. He begins to thrust them in and out, curling them at the
last second so they hit against my g-spot. He's never moved inside of me like
this, and I think it must be the closest thing I've ever felt to sex.
I whimper at the powerful sensation of pleasure that's
pooling in between my hips. Pressed up against the door like this, unable to
express my desire any other way, I feel like my orgasm is more concentrated and
more powerful. My hands strain against his grip, but he is like a steel vice,
not giving a millimeter. Just as I think I need more freedom for an orgasm to
be possible, I feel it slam into me, rippling out from my groin to my tiptoes
and the ends of my hair.
He slows the movement of his fingers inside me until he's
just barely circling them. I feel him pull them out, and open my eyes. He's
looking down at me, licking his lips. He releases my hands, and I lower them,
rolling them around. I silently push my pants all the way to the floor.
"You alright?" he asks.
"Yeah, just thinking," I say, reaching up to trace
my fingers around his abdominal muscles. "I'm not sure how I can possibly
repay you for that, but I'm sure as hell going to try."
Chapter Eighteen
"Miles!" I protest with a laugh, covering my face
with my hands.
"Just a couple more," he says, snapping away on
his camera. "The lighting is perfect here. South-facing windows," he
adds, gesturing behind me. Mercifully, he lets his camera hang around his neck.
"It's wonderful," I agree, looking around. He
moved into his own apartment two days ago, so it's only got a mattress and a
desk so far, but it's peaceful, and has great light. "Who's your
roommate?"
"Former intern of Julian's," he explains.
"But he's out right now." He takes the camera off his neck and lays
it gently on the desk. "I thought maybe you could stay over."
"I'm not sure my mom—"
He shrugs as he walks over toward me and wraps his arms
around my waist. "Tell her you're at a friend's," he urges me.
"I really like you. I thought maybe tonight we could…" He lets the
words go unsaid, and instead bends his neck slightly to kiss me. It's a nice
kiss, really. His technique can't be faulted. But my body doesn't exactly leap
to attention, the way it does with—
"Where's your bathroom?" I ask, pulling away.
"Down the hall on the right," he says pointing to
the door with a slight look of confusion on his face.
"Be right back," I promise, hustling away. I find
the bathroom and shut the door behind me, then close the lid on the toilet and
sit, resting my head in my hands.
I can't ignore it anymore: I don't get the same feeling with
Miles as I do with Jack. My body's response to Jack last night compared to
Miles just now can't compare, especially now that I've experienced them one
after the other in such close succession. In my fantasies about Miles
throughout high school, I always pictured myself tingling at his slightest
touch, the way I do with…Jack. And I know that Miles wants to have sex tonight,
but I honestly don't think that I'd enjoy it, since our kisses don't leave me
wanting more. If anything, I've gotten less turned on the more we've hung out.
He's just not quite the person I thought he was. I pictured
him as more of a rebel, wanting to truly find himself as an artist, and now it
turns out that he's only interested in commercialism and fame. I can't believe
this…am I really thinking about breaking up with him? It's going to seem so out
of the blue. But I suddenly feel so sure that's what I want to do. And it
really wouldn't be fair to him to string him along anyway.
I stand up, take a deep breath, and flush the toilet, for
appearance's sake. I square my shoulders and walk back down the hallway to
Miles's room. He's got his camera in his hands again,
fingers press back at my opening, and I feel a new kind of pressure that forces
me to open my legs a little wider. I realize why – he's using three fingers,
stretching me out. He begins to thrust them in and out, curling them at the
last second so they hit against my g-spot. He's never moved inside of me like
this, and I think it must be the closest thing I've ever felt to sex.
I whimper at the powerful sensation of pleasure that's
pooling in between my hips. Pressed up against the door like this, unable to
express my desire any other way, I feel like my orgasm is more concentrated and
more powerful. My hands strain against his grip, but he is like a steel vice,
not giving a millimeter. Just as I think I need more freedom for an orgasm to
be possible, I feel it slam into me, rippling out from my groin to my tiptoes
and the ends of my hair.
He slows the movement of his fingers inside me until he's
just barely circling them. I feel him pull them out, and open my eyes. He's
looking down at me, licking his lips. He releases my hands, and I lower them,
rolling them around. I silently push my pants all the way to the floor.
"You alright?" he asks.
"Yeah, just thinking," I say, reaching up to trace
my fingers around his abdominal muscles. "I'm not sure how I can possibly
repay you for that, but I'm sure as hell going to try."
Chapter Eighteen
"Miles!" I protest with a laugh, covering my face
with my hands.
"Just a couple more," he says, snapping away on
his camera. "The lighting is perfect here. South-facing windows," he
adds, gesturing behind me. Mercifully, he lets his camera hang around his neck.
"It's wonderful," I agree, looking around. He
moved into his own apartment two days ago, so it's only got a mattress and a
desk so far, but it's peaceful, and has great light. "Who's your
roommate?"
"Former intern of Julian's," he explains.
"But he's out right now." He takes the camera off his neck and lays
it gently on the desk. "I thought maybe you could stay over."
"I'm not sure my mom—"
He shrugs as he walks over toward me and wraps his arms
around my waist. "Tell her you're at a friend's," he urges me.
"I really like you. I thought maybe tonight we could…" He lets the
words go unsaid, and instead bends his neck slightly to kiss me. It's a nice
kiss, really. His technique can't be faulted. But my body doesn't exactly leap
to attention, the way it does with—
"Where's your bathroom?" I ask, pulling away.
"Down the hall on the right," he says pointing to
the door with a slight look of confusion on his face.
"Be right back," I promise, hustling away. I find
the bathroom and shut the door behind me, then close the lid on the toilet and
sit, resting my head in my hands.
I can't ignore it anymore: I don't get the same feeling with
Miles as I do with Jack. My body's response to Jack last night compared to
Miles just now can't compare, especially now that I've experienced them one
after the other in such close succession. In my fantasies about Miles
throughout high school, I always pictured myself tingling at his slightest
touch, the way I do with…Jack. And I know that Miles wants to have sex tonight,
but I honestly don't think that I'd enjoy it, since our kisses don't leave me
wanting more. If anything, I've gotten less turned on the more we've hung out.
He's just not quite the person I thought he was. I pictured
him as more of a rebel, wanting to truly find himself as an artist, and now it
turns out that he's only interested in commercialism and fame. I can't believe
this…am I really thinking about breaking up with him? It's going to seem so out
of the blue. But I suddenly feel so sure that's what I want to do. And it
really wouldn't be fair to him to string him along anyway.
I stand up, take a deep breath, and flush the toilet, for
appearance's sake. I square my shoulders and walk back down the hallway to
Miles's room. He's got his camera in his hands again,
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