“That was why,” he says quietly.
I squeeze his hand as he pulls into the parking space. “Thank you.”
We barely make it up to the apartment before our clothes are off and he’s carrying me into the bedroom, sprawling on the bed together. “I want to make sure that this is okay,” he says, “after what happened.”
“Yes,” I say, pulling him to me, wanting his skin on mine. “I don’t want to think about him. I only want to think about you.”
“In that case,” he says, rolling away from me, laughing when I whine, “I have two more questions.”
He pulls a couple things from his bag which he dropped in the hallway. “How much do you trust me?” he asks, coming back over. He has some papers, and something black. Sitting on the side of the bed, he hands me the black thing. I unfold the soft fabric and it takes shape in my hands as a simple black mask, for sleeping. “A blindfold?”
His hand is on the back of my neck and he pulls me in for a kiss, my nipples brushing his chest. “I don’t want you to be distracted by anything, not even what you see me doing.”
“And what will you be doing?”
He laughs. “For tonight, nothing I wouldn’t normally do while you can see. I thought this might be a step toward other things.”
I think about putting on the blindfold, and it doesn’t seem scary, it seems exciting. Especially given what he told me he was going to do this afternoon. “Yeah, I can do that.”
He kisses me again. “I promise you’ll like it.”
“I think I will.”
Handing me the papers, he says, “This is the other thing. Not nearly as sexy. They’re my test results.” I recognize these from my own. My own are older, but I haven’t slept with anybody but him in a long time. “I was hoping—”
“No condom?”
“Yeah.”
The thought of him being inside me, really inside me, makes me suddenly wet, as wet as I’ve been all day, with the exception of the past couple hours. “I want that,” I say. “Yes.”
He sweeps the papers onto the floor and pushes me back onto the bed, capturing my mouth with his own. He doesn’t have to tell me how excited this makes him, because I can feel how hard he is against my stomach. And I want it too. As he kisses me, I begin to fall into that place where I don’t have to think about anything, and I feel blissfully free. My face is cradled in Peter’s hands, the mask soft on my skin where he’s holding it.
When he finally pulls away, I’m melted, ready and content. Peter slips the mask on over my eyes, and for a second, I feel panic that I can’t see him, but I can still feel him, and his kiss feels entirely different when I’m not able to just open my eyes. It feels delicious. Expansive. “Is that comfortable?”
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s really soft.”
“Good.”
His mouth is on my shoulder, and I jump in surprise. He laughs. “I made you wait all day, so you can come whenever you want. As much as you want.”
Anticipation rolls through me in a wave. “Okay.”
And then I can’t speak anymore because he’s using his mouth and tongue to paint lines on me. Across my collarbone and shoulders and around my breasts, not touching my nipples until the last second so I moan with need. I never know where he’s going to touch next and it makes me feel like every nerve is a live wire waiting to be shocked. He’s moving so slowly it’s excruciating. The way he’s sucking on my skin and tracing with his tongue, it feels like hours for him to travel across my stomach and tease around my belly button. And when he reaches my mound, I think he stops completely.
He teases my thighs and the crease that leads to where I want him, but even when I raise my hips closer to his mouth, he just pushes them down and continues on his wandering journey. And he can, because I let him, because I said that it’s his choice. I shiver and savor the sudden vulnerability. There’s no other place where I get to feel this, the sensation of being free and light and complete. It’s perfect.
It starts with his tongue. Barely a flick on the tip of my clit, and even that is enough to make me moan. The pleasure shoots inward and settles in my gut. Every tiny touch gives me more. Then his lips with fluttering kisses on my skin. On my entrance. Right next to my clit.
“Peter,” I say, “you’re teasing me.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Why?”
I can feel his smile. “Because I can.”
God damn it that shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, but it turns me on more, if that’s even possible. He goes back to his teasing, with every round of it adding a little more of his tongue and his lips so that the pleasure is building, but never enough to send me over. I reach for him, try to guide him closer and deeper but he just chuckles and moves my hands aside. “The system, Amber. If I want you to guide me, I’ll let you. Right now, this is mine.” I grab my comforter instead, fisting my hands in it. I grit my teeth because the pleasure is too much and not enough and it’s so good. He’s not just flicking my clit with his tongue now, it’s long, broad strokes across my slickness. He’s slipping it inside my pussy to taste me, and then drawing is across everything before circling my clit again and again. He makes me think that he’s going to stay there, that he’s going to let me go over when he moves.