"Why do you keep staring at me? Aren't you gonna help?"
I'm at Peter's house, and we're working on a 500 piece jigsaw puzzle of the Taj Mahal. His mom is on her way to drop off Owen at sleepaway camp, which is a whopping 3 hour's drive away. Peter's mom said it was worth it though, because it was "important to get Owen socializing with other kids". Basically, we have the house to ourselves until 10. I decided to pull out the puzzle in an effort to avoid boredom. At this point though, Peter doesn't seem very interested in finishing the project.
"I'm sorry, Covey, I can't help it. You just look so cute when you're concentrating."
Despite my annoyance, I can't help but smile a little.
"Seriously, it's adorable. Your eyes get all scrunched up. I mean, more than they already are, anyway."
"Peter! That's low-key racist, you jerk!"
"It is racist, Covey, and that's why I'm totally kidding. Kind of."
"PETER KAVINSKY, YOU ASSHOLE!"
I launch my attack. I jump on top of him, pummeling his shoulders and chest with my tiny fists. I'd never be able to truly physically harm him, but I'm still careful anyway, making sure I'm not using the entirety of my strength. He fights back, tickling me anywhere he can reach. He finds my weak spot, my upper ribs.
"Oh my god, Peter, I can't breathe! Stop, please! I'm begging you!"
He keeps going. Just when I'm convinced I'm going to pass out soon from oxygen deprivation, Peter stops.
I catch my breath, still giggling a little. "Jeez, Peter, you were tickling me so hard I thought I was going to pass–"
He interrupts me by bringing his mouth to mine.
My eyes pop open in surprise, but in an instant, they close again as I immediately lose myself in the feeling of his lips pressed against mine, my brain dissolving into mush as I feel his arms wrap around my back. The fact that he still has this effect on me is crazy. I'm completely in awe of him, still. Peter Kavinsky. The handsomest of the handsome boys. All mine.
It's gentle at first, our lips lightly brushing up against one another, his hand making slow circles on my back. Quickly, though, it becomes something different entirely. His hands become more fervent, more eager, as he grabs my waist and pulls me even closer to him. I run my fingers through his hair and down the side of his neck. He's sitting in a chair, and I'm straddling him, just like our time junior year in the hot tub.
At this point, though, I have the urge to go further, much further than we did in the hot tub.
As my heart begins to pound, I feel his tongue slip into my mouth and I revel in the warm, delicious feeling. I explore his mouth with my own tongue, copying some of his movements and doing some of my own. Already, our breaths are coming faster. I feel hot and tingly everywhere.
All of the sudden, he lifts me up, my legs wrapped around his lower back, and we don't break contact once. We are completely consumed with one another. He grabs the sides of my face, kissing me even harder, and I swear every nerve in my body is charged with electricity. He sets me down and I walk backward against the wall, gripping his shirt. Peter plants a kiss on my jawline, and I exhale softly in bliss. He moves downward, kissing my neck. I grip his shirt tighter, unable to think straight.
I feel his kisses moving up and around the upper left side of my neck. Oh, no. Not the spot. Please, Peter, have mercy.
He does it. He kisses my ultimate sweet spot, the soft patch of skin right below my left ear. And I swear to God, I can't help what comes out of my mouth next. It's completely involuntary.
It comes out in a half-whisper, half-moan. "Make love to me, Peter Kavinsky."
I don't realize I've said it until he pulls back. His eyes are wider than saucers.
I freeze. Shit. I just told him to make love to me. It's exactly like what Allie did in The Notebook! I couldn't help it, though! Shit, shit, shit….
But then I realize, I don't regret it. I'm ready. That's exactly what I want. I've thought about it for a while, and I know Peter and I will be together for a long time. I want this.
Slowly, he says, "Are you absolutely sure, Lara Jean?"
I look at him in the eyes and nod reassuringly. "Yes."
And we're kissing again.
I didn't think we could get more fervent than we already were, but somehow we are. Peter's hands are everywhere, caressing my face, my neck, my back, my waist. Without thinking, my hands are already unbuttoning his shirt.
He scoops me up again, bridal style, and I realize he's taking me upstairs. Oh, yeah. That's probably a good idea. I don't think I want my first time to be in Peter's living room. I bury my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, which is a combination of Snuggle detergent, cinnamon, and the "special" cologne he uses. I don't think I've ever smelled anything better; not even my fresh baked cookies can compare.
As he makes his way up the stairs, I realize something and I feel a pit in my stomach. Peter's done this before. I haven't. I'm gonna have no idea what I'm doing. I'm probably going to be horrible at this. What if he compares me to Gen? I'm sure she was so much better than I'll ever be…
I pull away. "Um, Peter?"
He's reached the top of the staircase, and he sets me down. "What's wrong, Covey?" He strokes my cheek, worry in his eyes. He obviously notices my apprehension.
"I, you know, I haven't done this before. And I feel like I'm not gonna know what to do and I might not be good at it and I just don't want you to be disappointed and–"
He kisses me, so sweetly.
"Lara Jean, you could never disappoint me. I'm going to take care of you, don't worry."
My heart swells.
Peter takes my hand and leads me to his room, which is only a few steps away from the staircase. He shuts the door, and I slide off his unbuttoned shirt to reveal his chest and torso. I run my hand along the area, admiring the surprisingly smooth skin.
I glance up at Peter, and he is looking at me with pure desire, unrestricted lust. He intertwines his hands in my hair and kisses me fiercely. I respond eagerly, pressing myself up against him. I want nothing more than to be as close to him as humanly possible, and I long to feel my own bare skin against his. Almost on cue, Peter lifts my shirt over my head in one swift movement. I tilt my head back as he plants kisses on my neck, collarbone, and chest. I stand up on my tippytoes to kiss and bite his ear softly, which I know he likes.
He whispers in my ear, sending chills all over my body. "Trust me, Lara Jean, you're pretty good at this. You drive me nuts."
At this point, I'm getting impatient. I loop my fingers around his shorts and pull them down. He's only in his boxers now, and my God he has never looked so hot.
Gently, Peter pushes me down onto the bed. Lying on my back, I feel his mouth trail across my collarbones and then lower onto my chest until he reaches my bra. He kisses the tops of my breasts, the sensitive skin lying right above my bra line.
A small whimper escapes my mouth. "Peter..." I whisper.
I feel his hands come to my waist. I'm wearing a skirt, and I went without tights today. The only thing underneath is my underwear.
Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Peter pulls my skirt down, his thumbs gliding over my thighs. I shiver against his touch.
Suddenly, I remember that I'm not really dressed for this occasion. My bra and underwear don't match. My bra is plain black, it's not even cute. And my panties are just nude colored. They have a lace trim and they're bikini style, but still...not super sexy.
My worry goes away, though, when I see the way Peter is looking at me, like I'm... art.
"You are absolutely breathtaking, Lara Jean Song Covey."
I feel like I'm going to melt into a big puddle right on Peter's bed.
I smile. "Thank you."
He smiles back and kisses me softly, like he has all the time in the world. I wish we did. I wish I could be with him like this forever.
The kiss intensifies as Peter lowers his body onto mine. I feel the bare skin of his torso, his muscular back, his toned arms. I want to explore every single inch of him.
I also notice something firm pressed up against my leg. Peter's bulge. It's not like I've had experience, but I'm pretty sure he's quite aroused. And knowing that it's because of me makes me feel fluttery.
Peter moves his mouth down to my bra line again, kissing the same spot and making me whine with anticipation. He reaches around for my bra clasp. Thank, God. I can't take this any longer.
I feel the clasp release, and cool air hits my chest as Peter slides my bra off my shoulders. This is the first time Peter's seen my breasts. I feel vulnerable, but not in a bad way. More like a new, exciting way. Like any teenage boy would, Peter gives my breasts a gaze of admiration before kissing me again. Every second I'm feeling more and more aroused, more and more ready to be with him.
Peter lowers his lips to my neck, my collarbone, and then brings his head up as he approaches my chest. A thrill runs through my body when I realize what he's about to do.
I gasp as I feel Peter's mouth close around my breast. He licks and sucks and a few squeaks escape me. I close my eyes as he moves to the other breast, this time biting softly. I moan.
"Peter...don't stop."
And he doesn't. He continues licking, sucking, and biting and I feel the heat in my core getting more and more intense. I want him. I want all of him.
Just when I'm convinced I might be able to eventually reach orgasm just by Peter sucking on my breasts (or just thinking about Peter, honestly), he stops. I let out a whine of longing, but he wastes no time. His mouth is below my breasts now, near my navel. I feel his tongue drag across my belly and my hips buck involuntarily. I feel his hot breath on my skin, his hands running down the sides of my waist. Suddenly, I feel his mouth leave my navel and land again...on my inner thighs.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
I thought I was already turned on, but this is a new level. Every kiss he leaves on skin burns and tingles and sends jolts of electricity through my body. I start running my fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. I breathe faster and faster, thinking about how close he is to the most sensitive spot in my body. He adds his tongue, and my hips buck uncontrollably.
I can't take this any longer.
I'm desperate. "Peter."
He smiles in between kisses. "Hm?"
"Please."
"What, Covey?"
"I want...I need you."
"Is that so?" He kisses the inside of my left thigh, making me squirm.
Oh my, god. He's teasing me now.
"Peter...I..."
"Hmmm?" He kisses the other thigh.
"PETER GRANT KAVINSKY."
He finally looks up at me.
"Yes, Lara Jean?" He whispers, breathlessly.
"I need you. Now."
In a split second, his face is above mine again, and he kisses me. This kiss is different, though. Less fiery and rushed like before, more...tender. Like we both know we are about to share something special. For the second time tonight, I feel like melting into a puddle on Peter's sheets.
The melty feeling goes away, though, when I see Peter taking off his boxers. The melty feeling is now more like a "my entire body is on fire" feeling.
He stands and goes to his bathroom for, presumably, a condom. My assumption is right; he comes back holding a shiny foil packet. I can't help but stare at his manhood, and I actually find myself admiring it. I've always thought of it as gross, but in this context, it's entirely different.
My breathing quickens as he approaches me on the bed. He whispers in my ear, making me shiver. "Lara Jean, if we're going to do this, you're going to have to take your panties off."
"Well...I thought you could take them off for me."
I'm shocked at myself the moment the words come out of my mouth. Was I just...smooth? I'm never smooth!
Peter smiles and bites his lip, turning me on even more. He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of my panties. Slowly, even more excruciatingly slowly than when he pulled off my skirt, he slides off my panties. All five of his fingers trail down the length of my legs. Please, hurry up.
After what seems like an eternity, I feel my panties slide completely off of my ankles. We are both now completely bare.
I thought my first time would be different. I imagined being scared, or hesitant, maybe even a little insecure. But by the grace of Peter's sweetness and hotness, I am ready as I think I'll ever be.
Peter positions himself over me, and I unconsciously spread my legs. He brushes my hair away from my cheek, an adorable gesture for someone who's about to have sex. I close my eyes and wait for him to enter me.
When he does, I am jolted from my content state by a sharp pain. Shit. I didn't realize it would hurt, at least not like this.
Peter looks into my eyes, searching for discomfort. He whispers, "You okay, Covey?". Beads of sweat line his forehead, and I know this isn't painful for him (probably the opposite, actually), but I can tell he's concerned. To be honest with myself, it does hurt, but the prospect of going far enough until it doesn't hurt is making me want to keep going. I kiss him. "Yeah. I'm okay."
He kisses my jawline as he slides out of me. A grunt escapes his mouth, which is somehow the sexiest sound I've ever heard. I whisper, "Keep going."
He enters me again, still slowly, but a little faster than the first time. When he slides back out the second time, the pain is not near as bad. As he starts to adopt a rhythm, the pain is diminished and morphs into something else entirely.
With every one of Peter's thrusts, a heatwave of pleasure pulsates through my body. Before I can realize it, moans are escaping my lips.
"Ahhh..."
We're both panting, and Peter is grunting rhythmically. Every cell in my body is ignited.
"Peter, don't stop."
He plants a sloppy kiss on my ear. "Like I would ever."
My hands are gripping his back muscles. The tingly pleasure coursing through my body suddenly becomes more intense, and I tilt my head back as Peter plants kisses and grunts against my neck.
"Faster," I plead.
He obliges, and the pleasure intensifies even more. Both of us get louder.
I've never had this much feeling in my body at once. It's all-consuming; the only thing my brain can focus on is the pleasure. It feels so good, it almost hurts.
At this point, I know we're both close. It's the only coherent thought I can have besides 'Ohmygodthisfeelssogoodpeterohmygodpeterahhhh'.
"..Peter!" I yell out as my orgasm hits.
It feels like an out-of-body experience. I feel intense, hot waves of pleasure pulsate through my body as my legs shake uncontrollably. Colors dance in my vision. Peter climaxes at the same time, and a guttural sound escapes his throat. I moan against his mouth.
We both collapse onto Peter's bed, sweaty and breathless.
My voice breaks the silence. "That was..."
"Fucking amazing."
I smile at Peter.
"Really? You think I'm as good as..."
He looks at me. "Don't you ever compare yourself to her. Trust me, what we just did was ten thousand times better than anything I did with Gen, and I mean it."
I kiss him for the millionth time that night, but I still feel butterflies flutter in my stomach. The effect this boy has on me, I swear.
He wraps his arms around me, and I rest my head on his chest. I could stay like this forever.
"I love you so much, Lara Jean Song Covey."
"I love you, too, Peter Grant Kavinsky."