AN: This is, technically, a continuation of chapter "C" of What's in a Word. You don't have to read that to understand it though. This jumps ahead in our timeline quite a bit.
Before this she was unaccustomed to the tease. With Michael things had always been so cut and dry. No real foreplay, no taunting, no moments of grand passion. Before her first time with Steven she hadn't really known what she was missing. Now she knew. She knew that with the flick of his fingers he could make her whimper. She knew that with one word he could send her reeling.
Friday, 8:05 AM
That is exactly why she finds herself in this predicament. Steven has taken it upon himself to educate her on some of the finer points of pleasure. And this week's lesson is on anticipation. He has refused to really touch her all week—a peck on the lips, a gentle hand on her hip—but nothing that she has come to expect from him. There is no sneaking out of study halls to make-out in a closet, no clandestine meetings in his back bedroom. He is acting like a twelve-year-old who is afraid of cooties. But she knows. She knows that he wants it just as bad as she does.
She can sense it in the way his eyes devour the flesh exposed by her boat-neck top. At this point in his little experiment she has grown desperate for any type of touch, and her desperation shows in her increasingly slutty choices of wardrobe. The shirt is red with a low slung ruffled neckline. It is draped just barely on the wings of her shoulders and leaves just enough to the imagination. She admits it is a low blow.
His eyes light up when she enters his line of sight, and they immediately dip to look at what is just concealed from them. He smirks at her, and it stirs a certain warmth in her stomach that immediately drops to reside firmly between her legs. With one smirk he has left her wanting. "Nice outfit."
"What, this? I've had it for years." She tries to ignore the way his eyes have darkened. She really does try, but ultimately loses her fight as she looks up at him. He leans down so that his face is between her shoulder and ear.
His tongue darts out and traces a teasing circle against her exposed flesh before his lips hover millimeters from her ear, "Tonight. Wear this shirt." The breath of his words is directed straight below her ear and it sends a shudder through her entire body. She nods, and he slowly pulls his head back before kissing her once on the lips—just long enough to leave her wanting more, which, she is sure, is part of his plan.
Like that he is gone, and she is left standing there trying to gain control of her burgeoning lust. The only thing that helps is his word that tonight she will finally get the satisfaction she has craved.
She spends the rest of her day in a dream world—a very dirty dream world. Most of her fantasies involve a very naked and very willing Steven doing unmentionable things to her in none-too-private places. The only period that she is not totally lost to is Spanish. Because he sits right behind her in Spanish. She can smell him as he traces careful patterns on her neck and shoulders, and it drives her nearly mad with lust. She rushes out of that class as soon as the bell rings intent on getting home and showering before she goes to meet Steven.
She dresses in autopilot because she is too excited about what tonight might entail. She pulls on a black skirt with lace detail and decides to skip panties tonight—hopefully he won't think she's too desperate. Next she pulls the red shirt over her head and adjusts the edges so they rest just-so on her shoulders. This top leaves no doubt about her lack of bra. Red lipstick, a little black eyeliner, a spritz of her favorite perfume, and she is ready for whatever he decides to throw at her.
The walk to the Forman's seems to take longer than usual, but she is finally able to get there and walk in the basement door to be greeted with a familiar sight. Her boyfriend is sitting on his chair watching the television seemingly enamored with whatever he is watching. She clears her throat to announce her presence. He just looks at her and smirks.
There is no telling where he wants to take this so she simply sits on the couch and waits. After half an hour, she has had too much with his little game, "What the hell are you waiting for?" Her voice is both harsh and whiny showing equal parts anger and fragility.
"You have to tell me you want it," his response is curt, but he says is with a nearly quixotic smirk—she is damn tired of his smirks so she decides to tease him back.
"I want it so bad I didn't wear panties." These past few months with him she has become bolder, but this is a new level of "bad" for her.
His response is visceral as he swallows the lump that forms in his throat at her words. In an instant, he is on her all hands and lips and teeth—it is just enough to hurt—the minutest please/pain.
She moans into his mouth as his hands make short work of her top to spill out her breasts. He quickly palms one while working his other hand into her hair. She is kissing him like his mouth is her only source of oxygen, and oh God how she has missed this, even after a week it feels so right to be like this again. In the fog of how good this all feels, she remembers that they are in the middle of the basement and mumbles something that sounds like "bedroom" against his frenzied lips.
He obliges and wraps her legs around him to carry her to his room. Throwing her on his cot unceremoniously he removes his own shirt before joining her. Their mouths collide again with even greater for and his hands work their way down to her chest. He starts with a gentle pressure squeezing both of them lightly before narrowing in on her nipples with a light pinch. Her breathy moan tells him how much she has missed this.
The next thing to go is her skirt which he peels down her legs slowing, still trying to keep the illusion of a tease. His face comes to rest just between her legs and she shakes her head no—because as much as she loves it when he does that what she really wants is him. All of him.
She makes her intentions clear when she pulls him up for another kiss, and her hands drift south to undo his fly. She pushes his pants down the rest of the way with her feet, and they rest like that for a few moments naked as two jaybirds. Jackie pushes her hips upward, a clear invitation of what she wants. He, of course, obliges because it may have been his idea to go a week without this, but now that it's over he wants it just as bad as she does.
He lines himself up and looks at her eager face before making the first thrust. They both groan, and he leans down for a kiss before he finds a rhythm. "God, Jackie, you're so tight."
Her response is meant to be "I've gone a week without sex what do you expect?" It comes out more like a flustered moan. She leans forward into him and begins to suck on the ball of his shoulder to muffle her moans. His skin is slick with sweat, but has a faint hint of sweetness.
After a week without this feeling, she is nearly in heaven. Stroke after stroke he brings her closer and closer to ecstasy all while kissing her into oblivion. If she ever has to go a week without this again, she will die. He finds that sweet spot one more time before she falls apart. She is aware that she has just had the best orgasm of her life (and quite possibly the best fucking she's ever received) but most of it is in a fog. He says something, but it is lost on her exactly what.
He removes himself from her, and she feels like she has just lost something—not that he has taken something back that is his, but that he has taken something that is hers. He spins her around so that her back is to him and wraps his strong arms around her body draping a leg over her calf. When she finally regains control of herself, Jackie realizes that she's crying, and he is simply holding her and placing gentle kisses against her neck. "Are you ok, Doll?"
"I'm great." She doesn't know why she's crying. "These are happy tears." She tilts her head back to place a kiss on his lips making her arousal clear. "Now who's up for another round?" He groans.
AN: Ok, now it's your turn. Please leave a review and tell me how I did. (Also if you're interested check out What's in a Word—it's only a collection of drabbles so it shouldn't take too long :))
