Halfway Girl (Girl 2.5)

“Why did you talk yourself out of it?”

Oh my God, her skin is like silk. Behind the zipper of my jeans, my body reacts eagerly, hardening in response to Birdie’s softness. To all of her. “I’ve never asked out a girl before, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want some scary-ass giant stomping after you in the dark.”

Head tilted back, she searches my eyes. “Who told you you were scary?”

For some reason, talking to this girl is as easy as breathing. It’s like I’ve received a new set of lungs. “I’ve been playing football since I was a kid. My coaches praised me for being scary. Off the field, being so much bigger made people stay away.” Her mouth turns down at the corners and I’m overwhelmed with the need to reassure her. “Don’t worry. Being called scary doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

“They should be scared by their lack of good judgment.”

And then Birdie’s hands are reaching up to clasp the sides of my head, bringing my face down closer to hers. Christ, she’s going to let me kiss her. There’s already a spike lodged in my belly over her question, but it twists now, pushing deeper, forcing out my uncertainty and turning it into hunger.

“This is crazy, right?” she whispers, a centimeter from my lips. “I don’t hook up at parties. I don’t even usually go to parties.”

“I’ve never hooked up anywhere—” The horrifying truth is out before I can stop it, thanks to my filter going missing as soon as I started talking to Birdie. She seems to be holding her breath waiting for the rest of what I was about to say, giving me no choice but to continue. “Yeah, I’m a senior, but I’ve never done anything like this. Never wanted to this bad.”

The moment crystalizes as she scrutinizes me with a total lack of judgment. It’s only wonder and maybe a drop of sympathy, but I’m too desperate for her mouth to come closer to take any kind of offense.

“Me either,” Birdie murmurs, brushing our lips together, going up on her toes and pressing our bodies together. “Kiss me, Jerimiah.”

I don’t know what comes over me. The control I’m always so careful to keep knitted together around everyone…it unravels and I scoop Birdie up, taking a giant step to flatten her body between mine and the staircase landing wall. Her gasp tells me she’s not expecting the move and I almost move back to reassure her, but our mouths lock, they lock tight, drawing deeply with a groan from both of us. Holy shit. An army of angels sings when her body fits against me and her knees lift to settle on my hips. How does she match me so perfectly when I’m at least a foot taller? Like this, though? Like this, her mouth is on level with mine and her pussy is hot, sweet pressure pushing down on my cock. We’re breathing each other’s names and I don’t hear the party anymore. I’m straining to listen to every word out of her mouth.

“Jerimiah,” she whimpers, shifting her hips. “Please…”

My God, she’s saying my name. Begging for me. Without thinking, I roll my lower body forward into the welcoming juncture of her thighs and capture her cry with a hard kiss. I wasn’t lying when I told Birdie I’ve never hooked up. My mind knows what women need to get satisfaction, but my mouth, hands and body have no experience with the movements. There’s no hesitating now, though. I don’t feel my usual need to second-guess myself when she’s squeezing my hips between her legs, tracking her fingers through my hair. “I want to kiss you with my tongue,” I say, driving my hips upward again, hearing the friction of her tight body dragging back down the wall. “Can I, beautiful? Can I put it in your mouth?”

“Yes.”

Our mouths hover a breath apart and then I savor my tongue’s first entry with a sweeping lick. She jerks against me and digs her nails into my shoulders. Her thighs cinch higher, higher around my hips, squeezing, and instinct tells me she wants faster. Harder. That belief is only confirmed when I trail my palms down her sides, waiting for her nod of encouragement before brushing my thumbs over the peaks of her tits.

“I love that. Don’t stop.” We get lost in a string of teasing kisses, wherein she nips my lips and I try to deepen it. Needing more. I need more of her and she finally gives in, letting me have a thorough taste. “Please,” she says, breaking away. “Please. Don’t stop anything you’re doing.”

“I won’t,” I say hoarsely, dropping my hands to her knees and gripping them from beneath, lifting her higher on the wall, burying my face in her neck and thrusting blindly. “This what you need, beautiful?”