Commencement (13 page)

“My turn,” I said, rising to my knees. I steadied myself, hands on his shoulders and smiled. “I want to unwrap you, too.”

“By all means.” He set his hands at my waist and pulled me into him.

I pressed soft kisses along his jaw as I unbuttoned his shirt and spread it open, down over his shoulders, to his forearms.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I said, admiring his body as he took over for me, removing the shirt completely and throwing it to the side.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I do,” I breathed. “I really
really
think so.” My hands ghosted over his chest, exploring, my fingers tingling at the contact. It was thrilling, his body so warm and hard under my touch. He watched me, inhaling sharply as my hands lowered to his abdomen.

“Uh-uh,” He captured my wrists and threw my arms around his neck. “My turn again,” he said, and sweeping my hair away from my nape, he tugged at the zipper of my dress and pulled it down.

He slipped the straps off of my shoulders and the bodice fell free, gathering at my waist. Thunder crashed outside, and I gasped as cool air hit my skin, my nipples hardening under the thin fabric of my bra. His hands cupped my breasts as mine found his waistband. I kissed him, hard and deep, unbuckled his belt, and whipped the leather from its loops with a crack, then sent the belt flying across the room.

His eyes darted to where his belt had flown, and he smiled at me, a menacing look that sent a flood of wetness to my core. He crushed me to him then, his tongue punishing my mouth, as my hands stroked over his hips, finding the hard length of him straining behind the fabric of his trousers. I slipped my hand inside, my fingers curling around his bare skin. He groaned against my lips.

“I want you in my mouth,” I said, and he groaned again. I pushed his trousers down, and watched as he removed them fully, kicking them off his bare feet and away. I licked my lips as his cock sprang free, thick and hot and jutting lewdly. I lowered myself to my hands and knees and kissed the blunt head, then flattened my tongue along the base and licked, root to tip, one long, hot, wet swipe before I sucked him into my mouth. His hands flew up, one tangling in my hair as the other gripped my jaw, tilting me so that he could see my face. I glanced up at him and smiled around his cock, swirled my tongue violently over the tip and then hollowed my cheeks on one hard pull before releasing him with a wet pop.

“Jesus Christ,” he growled.

“I haven’t begun to court you,” I said. I winked and flipped over onto my back, my head hanging off of the table. I grasped his ass and pulled him to me, fisting his cock to my lips. I guided his movements with my hands, back and forth, urging him to fuck my mouth as I sucked him inside.

He leaned over me, his hands braced against the table, hips thrusting slowly, slipping the engorged head of his cock over the wet skin of my lips, then pushing inside, to slide over my tongue, long, deep strokes, then back out again.

His hands moved over my arms and pushed the lace of my bra away roughly, my swollen breasts springing free, and he groped them, kneading my flesh with eager fingers, his hips still thrusting into my mouth.

I sucked on him, my lips stretching to accommodate his delicious girth. I whimpered and raised my knees, my hands sliding down over my thighs to touch myself. His hands caught mine, and he lifted them up over my head, then pulled back, slipping his cock from my mouth. He lowered his body, his face hovering just inches from mine.

“My turn,” he growled, then kissed me, brutally, before spinning my body on the table, the satin of my dress turning easily on the slippery surface. He caught my knees, and yanked me to the edge of the table. His fingers slid up under my dress where he unhooked the garter belt and flung it to the side, then returned his hands to my dress and lifted it, exposing my thighs and my stomach. He walked along the side of the table, peeling the dress up over my arms and off of my body. He dropped it there above my head, a black satin puddle on the table, then retraced his steps, one finger extended, gliding along the length of my body as he moved.

“What was it I said to you?” he asked, trailing his finger along my cheek to my neck.

“What?” I stammered. “When?”

“In the laundromat. I promised you something.” He smiled at me. “Oh, yes. I said I would have you, your thighs spread wide, your body displayed for my pleasure.” His finger traced over the pink tip of my breast, pausing to roll my nipple.

I gasped and trembled at his touch, his finger painting ecstatic ribbons everywhere.

“I said I would see,” he said, his hand tickling across my stomach to my waist, “that pretty little cunt of yours,” he settled between my knees again, and hooking a finger into the band of panties, ripped them from me with one powerful movement, “glistening with hunger.”

He lowered his body, pulled a dining chair behind him for support, placed his hands on my knees and pushed them apart, and up, so that my sex was open to him, waiting. His face hovered low over my pussy. I could feel warm, wet breath against my skin. I reached for him, wanting to touch him, searching for connection. He caught my hands and knotted our fingers together, holding my hands to the side as he lowered his mouth, his gaze holding mine. He licked his lips and smiled, a slow, smug grin that sent a thrill up my spine.

I bucked when his mouth closed over me, and he squeezed my hand, pressing soft kisses to my skin in reassurance. His tongue slicked into my folds, swirling over my clit and down to probe gently into my core. My whole body shuddered and I ripped one hand from his, my fingers clawing at his hair as his mouth clamped down on me powerfully now, sucking and licking, mercilessly massaging the hard bud of my arousal with his tongue until I cried out, melting against his mouth, my thighs shaking violently with release.

“Oh God!” I said as he rose and climbed over me. “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

“That was glorious.” He grinned down at me.

I didn’t speak, I just pulled his face to mine and kissed him. He owned me, his tongue thrusting inside, mimicking the same movements he’d used below.

“I want you completely naked,” he said as his hands roamed to my breasts, pulling the bra away.

“Yes,” I said, nodding. His tone had changed, going from playful to controlled in the span of a few short seconds.

“All of you, just for me.” His eyes were grave and shadowed with lust.

“Yes,” I said again. I was mesmerized by his voice, lost in his eyes, and desperate for more of him.

He jumped off the table and gathered me into his arms. My legs circled his hips and my arms gripped his shoulders as he carried me that way, back into the smaller room, to the benches just under the windows.

“As soon as I saw this room,” he said, caressing my cheek, pushing me back against the cushions, “I knew I’d have you here. In the rain, with the moonlight on your skin.”

I felt drunk, high on his kisses, addicted to the feel of him under my hands, craving the sound of his voice. My eyes scanned over his body, desperate to see all of him, to etch his face, his form, into my mind forever. Thunder crashed outside once more, and I felt it in my chest, reverberating through every nerve in my body. He hung over me, and drawing my thighs up on either side of his legs, he settled his hips to mine, and I arched into him.

I crushed him to me, clawing at his shoulders as his arm circled behind my back and cradled my head. He pulled one of my hands away and pressed it in his own, holding it above me, as his eyes locked on mine, pinning me with that dark gaze. His hips rolled and I felt the head of his cock slick between my folds and notch against my opening.

I was panting, my breath labored with arousal. My eyes closed and I relaxed my head into his hand. His lips moved along the line of my jaw, and pressed against mine, sweet, soft kisses, teasing my lips open with his own.

“Open your eyes,” he breathed. “I want to see your eyes when I enter you.”

My body thrilled at his words, a shock of electricity bolting through me so strongly that for a split second I thought I’d been hit by lightning and had succumbed to the storm. I opened my eyes and saw the truth—that was exactly what had happened. But the storm was Thomas’s eyes.

He pressed his hips forward as his hands tightened their grip, clutching me to him as he pushed into me slowly, short probing strokes that stretched me and drove me wild. He paused, his cock resting for a moment, just inside, teasing. A new wave of wetness flooded my center as my cunt spasmed hungrily, taut muscles quivering, hungry for more.

“Please,” I whimpered as I struggled to maintain eye contact, lust and pleasure clouding my vision. He kissed me back to life, and angled his hand under my head, pressing my forehead to his, still holding me in his gaze.

He plunged forward again, and my cunt sucked him deep, slick walls kissing his cock as he sheathed himself to the hilt. I gasped at the feel of him, his presence filling me so completely, stretching me wholly. It was more than simply flesh in flesh. He haunted me, his eyes piercing mine, possessing me, body and soul.

“Thomas?” I whispered, feeling hot tears welling behind my eyes. I felt consumed, overcome with that same emotional force that had been tormenting me for days. I hadn’t dared to name it, not to him, not even to myself.

“I know,” he said as he thrust gently, his cock slipping slowly in and out. “Shhh, I know, my darling. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He lowered his head to my breasts and sucked one nipple into his mouth, laving with his tongue until it swelled and hardened almost painfully. He thrust harder now, his cock pistoning into me faster and faster. I felt my orgasm coiling in my belly, the walls of my cunt tightening around his cock like a hot, wet fist. He pounded into me, fucking me into the cushions, hard squelching thrusts that slapped against my clit and raked over my G-spot ruthlessly.

The room felt electric, crackling around us, as if the storm outside had come in. I cried out, and he lifted his head from my breast, dragging both my hands above my head as his eyes locked on mine. I knew what he wanted, to see me, as I saw him. To touch the deepest corners of each other, the rawest edges, those that are only exposed in this moment, only visible to those who can see. I wanted that too, even if it was reckless, even if it might cost me everything. I didn’t care. I needed him to see me. I wanted to see him.

He crushed his mouth to mine, his tongue thrusting into me in time with his hips. I wrapped my legs around him and felt the first waves of orgasm break over my body. He broke the kiss and pressed a hand to my forehead, capturing my eyes with his, holding me safe as I fell and broke around him.

“Thomas.” I gasped his name, my eyes ensnared in his gaze.

“I know,” he said again, and this time, I understood what he knew, saw it, reflected in his eyes. My heart wept as my body reveled. I trembled and shook, my orgasm spiraling through me, arching my back as I erupted. Still he pounded into me, lifting me higher, my body soaring, ecstasy claiming me, as my muscles contracted around his cock, every nerve convulsing with pleasure.

“I…I…” he said, his voice faltering. He held my face in his hands as he came inside me, his eyes searching mine, glistening and raw, as my cunt fisted around him, pumping his cock until he shattered, emptying into me until he was felled. We lay there, euphoric in each other’s arms, his cheek pressed against my hair, the last tremors of orgasm quaking through us as the storm outside raged and thundered.

“I…” he said again.

“I know,” I said, clutching him to me, echoing the words he’d given me just moments before. “Shhhh, I know.” I kissed his eyes, his cheeks and the vein that pulsed in his forehead as he strained against emotion.

Dear God, don’t let him say it,
I thought.
Not now, not like this. Every non-virgin past the age of sixteen knows you never ever say “I love you” during sex. You just don’t. Not if you’re sane.

But I wasn’t sure I had any sanity left. I didn’t think he did either.

“I just…I…” he said.

“I know,” I said again, my eyes finding his.

“I wondered,” he said, stroking my hair. “I wondered if maybe, but I didn’t want to hope. And then…”

“Don’t say it,” I whispered. “Please, don’t say anything.”

I couldn’t bear it if he did. I would burst into flames if he did—spontaneously combust from this inferno of emotion that was ravaging my heart and my soul.

“Okay,” he said, and even in the dim candlelight I could see his eyes glistening. “Okay, I won’t. You’re right.” He rolled and pulled me with him, our bodies still joined, our hearts still in danger. He brushed the hair away from my cheek and kissed me, all the wonder and strength of this unexpected discovery apparent in the force of his kiss.

I laid my head on his chest and hugged him to me, feeling his muscles stiffen, almost imperceptibly, beneath my cheek.

He doesn’t know,
I realized.
He thinks I cut him off because I don’t feel the same.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, his tone distant and formal. “I, uh—”

“Thomas?” I said, cutting him off.

“Yes?”

“Me too,” I whispered. “Okay? Me too.”

His arms wrapped around me like steel bands as understanding and relief coursed through him. He pulled me up, his mouth finding mine, and he rolled me back under him, his cock growing hard inside me again.

“Thank God,” he groaned against my lips. “Oh, my dear, sweet Jane. No more welcome words were ever spoken, no sweeter prose ever conceived of, than those two words. Say them again.”

“Me too,” I said and laughed as he pressed his hips into mine, his cock slipping deeper inside me.

“Again,” he said, thrusting harder, one hand rising to knead my breast.

“Me too,” I said.

“Again.” His teeth found my neck and nipped, his lips tickling my skin with kisses until I squealed.

“Me too!” I shouted, my laughter fading to moans as his mouth found my nipple and his hips worked in earnest against mine.

“Oh, Thomas,” I sighed.

“Me too, Jane. Me too.”

T
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Becoming Jane – Commencement
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