Chapter 26 [M]

Billie clung to his body. After the few quick steps it took to reach the bed she felt a lack of gravity; a sense of falling. His hold on her was strong and completely steady, her back hitting the bed with a light bounce. Things were moving fast. The pace of their breaths made her feel as though they had to continue quickly, to keep up with all they had created. Nothing about the moment felt real. She could hardly understand how or why she had manged to be kissing him, in his arms, now suddenly upon his bed. As vivid as it was she still couldn't help but wonder if she were dreaming. It could have been this sense of fantasy that caused her to continued so urgently- the idea that it was all conjured and not really happening at all.

John found his lack of control and yet sense of awareness an unnatural kind of enigma. To be in any kind of embrace with her felt like an honor, something granted. To be so aware of her feelings, to feel them and know they were honest and true, was a kind of blessing he couldn't understand. Had it been any other moment he would have stopped, or at least slowed, and wondered if his influence was causing her to submit to him. He wanted her, as much as she seemed to want him, and it was the adrenaline of the moment, the surge and progression of it all that muted his hesitation.

When her back reached the bed he was upon the mattress with her, his knees on either side of her billowy skirt. The second their lips had parted he noticed her trying to give attention to something out of her eyesight and her legs began to jerk. She was attempting to remove her shoes, using her toes and her heels. John sat back, a realization dramatically playing across his face that he, too, was fully clothed down to his feet. His obliviousness to such a detail made him feel awkward and embarrassed. He was never lackadaisical when he was with a woman and he never second guessed himself. Now, with Billie, he was anxious not only of himself but for her judgments to his actions.

He began to fumble with his own feet making jerky movements again, tossing laces and shoes and socks aside as fast as possible. He turned back to Billie but before moving toward her began to yank his shirt out of his trousers. She witnessed this and reached her hand out, touching and stopping the pace of his. In that second that she had stilled him he became aware of his racing heartbeat. A sensual but beautiful smile tugged at her lips, she leaning forward so their eyes could gaze at a closer distance. "Slow down," she whispered with a small chuckle, or maybe it was still her own panting breath.

Again feeling nervous, this time at his own hasty style, John managed a shy smile. Her hands were on either side of his face and she kissed him like he a was some precious and sexy artifact. He found himself warmed to the point of melting. Her kiss was slow and savory, forcing him to take his time and relax. If anyone had reason to be nervous it was she and yet she appeared and allured John with her sense of serenity. While they kissed her hands fell from his face and were felt upon his chest. He rested his own on her sides, feeling up and down around her waist.

John almost moaned when he felt the buttons on his shirt being undone. Her delicate hands worked from the top and made its way down, he feeling the light but noticeable change when either side of his shirt went slack and free. For several moments while their tongues worked together Billie slid her hands across his chest, still covered by an undershirt, in the same slow fashion as their mouths. Though physically still under her touch his mind was racing. What else would she do? What was she thinking? He was wrought with insecurities; a feeling he barely even acknowledged in himself.

Surprising him again, or rather stunning him, he felt her hands brush against his flesh as she slipped through the sleeves of his shirt and pushed them lightly off his shoulders. Their lips momentarily ceased as the sleeves were pushed further, her hands sweeping across toned muscle. When the fabric was almost gathered at his wrist he took over, pulling both his arms free and tossing the shirt aside. He wasted no time in reaching for the undershirt and in a fluid motion it was pulled over his head and lazily strewn aside. His hair fell dark and careless in front of his eyes.

Through the darkness her cheeks burned scarlet. Without his shirt John was even more glorious than Billie expected. Defining the areas of his body were tight and vigorous muscles; he was sculpted in majestic masculinity. How many others had gazed upon his fame, even hidden in clothing, and yearned for him in the way she was now able to indulge? He had revealed himself to her; all his beauty was for her- to touch, explore, admire, love.

When they embraced again that was all Billie currently wanted. Her arms wrapped around his neck, feeling his skin under her, even under her chin as she rested her head on his shoulder. She arranged herself, turning so her cheek could feel his warmth and her arms then wrapped around his entire middle. Here the muscle tones were noticeably firm and her palms spread wide across his back, roaming. It was visible, even in the darkness, the drastic difference in the shade of their skin. Hers was but a soft and feminine pale, even though she was the one with Native blood. He held all the warmth, shadow and character.

She noticed his skin chill slightly as if he were cold. Her touch had given him a start and to relish in the giddy feeling John let out a laugh so gentle it was barely heard, his lips beginning to brush against her neck. Billie's eyes fluttered shut, the pleasurable feeling coursing through her body. For the first time he thought he heard her utter a sigh and his skin chilled again. Re-energized now he couldn't help the swiftness that came back to his fingers. His hands were on her back, searching, and then fondling a button that held her dress together behind the neck. He fiddled so much it was no longer a sly move but an intrusion; a rough attempt.

She started pulling away and John was silently cursing himself. What was wrong with him? Her smile was understanding, nonjudgmental, but the blush on her cheeks visible in the shadows made John nervous. Was that his fault? He was being sloppy. If he could somehow regain his confidence would she feel better? She was with a man, he wanted her to know, and not a little boy. Her hands reached around her head to the button as well. He opened his mouth to say something, what that was he didn't know, but thankfully she stepped in first.

"Let me." She moved away from him toward the edge of the bed. Tossing her legs over the side John had a view of her back, watching as she drew her dark hair over a shoulder and slowly, carefully, released the button. Time, maybe just seconds, passed. There was only the slightest bit of anxiety in her as she prepared to undress in front of a man she barely knew. She should have been not only scared but unwilling to bare herself to him, in a way no one else ever had ever witnessed, but the feeling was only an afterthought. If she were going to trust anybody, if she wanted to, it had to be him.

She glanced over her shoulder, not necessarily seeing him but knowing he would listen. "You may help me."

A smirk crossed his face. Billie had managed to unconsciously, in that sweet voice of hers, reassure him of anxieties of which she was probably unaware. On his knees he sat behind her, making out a zipper under the button. This was the easy part but his hand trembled. He pulled down, down, down, feeling himself arouse more and more with each inch. Under her dress she wore a beige, flesh-colored silky slip. She took the opportunity to remove the dress from her shoulders, shimmying out of the sleeves. She had a freckle behind her left shoulder, closer toward her neck, and down several inches in an almost vertical line was another. Enthralled, John touched the highest one and drew his finger down to the lower.

"What are you doing?" she whispered with a giggle, standing. Her back was still towards him, she allowing the dress to fall from her upper body.

"You have stars on your back."

His voice was in a whole different rough octave than she'd ever heard it before. She pushed the dress down from her waist. "Stars?"

"Yeah," he gulped. "Constellations."

The dress fell in a heap around her ankles and she stepped out, turning to face him. Her hair hung over her shoulder like a waterfall of night. Her slip was actually a camisole, something John couldn't define with any difference from any other article of woman's clothing, but was distracted and pleased to find it only reached the very highest height of her thighs. There was only a hint of underwear showing, long and slender legs glowing in the dark underneath.

She had hardly given him a moment to admire her before she was moving back to the bed. Again, John was eager. Her knees had barely reached the mattress before he was grabbing her, his hands colliding with the silky fabric and slipping across her skin every which way. She felt unbearably soft beneath the shirt, formed and taught yet velvety. He needed to touch her. They were kissing again, heatedly, and soon his lips found her neck and shoulders, her hands sweeping over his own. Though he was still kissing her skin she was aware that he had begun tugging at something beneath them. It became too obvious and her eyes opened, glancing down.

John had worked off his belt. His pants were going next and Billie got a glimpse of his boxer shorts hanging low and askew under his hip and the bulge under the flimsy fabric. She held her breath, retracting her head upward and away from the intimate sight. She wasn't sure how far he'd advanced in undressing himself but she continued to look away. In a moment there came a tender touch against her cheek. She closed her eyes to the caress and took several deep breaths.

"Are you scared?" came a rough voice. There was another moment of silence. John watched her throat twitch as she gulped.

"No."

His touch progressed slowly down her neck, across her shoulder where a loose strap fell from its place and dangled on her upper arm, down past her elbow and until he felt her wrist. As he held her hand Billie was breathing deep. She knew he wanted her to touch him; to really touch him. He was almost waiting, and she knew, more than almost, that she would disappoint him if she didn't. There was want, but a strange form of it; one she had never known before.

She brought their hands to his chest, touching his skin again. Slowly, she brought her hand down. Down. He aided her but did not rush. Soon she was feeling a part of him that she knew was utterly personal and then there was nothing left but to...

A collective intake of breath sounded. She was finally grasping him. It was alarming and yet natural. He did not yell out in pain; her sinful hand had not been smited from up above. Bravely she looked down and though she felt the heat in her cheeks more than any other moment she did not pull away. She was surprised in her own self to find what she was doing not to be vulgar but an expression of something within the both of them.

"Don't be scared," he whispered, his voicing sounding different again. She looked up into his eyes, noting the expression he held.

"I'm not." She smiled, hoping to look confident. Leaning forward she kissed him lightly,
bravely moving her hand below. As things progressed Billie found herself watching an unfolding happening within the man. John took a shallow breath again and Billie found herself watching his face intently; captivated. In reaction to her he was becoming sensitive, almost helpless. The strong and unwavering man was suddenly putty. She felt that surely he would think twice before unraveling himself in such an exposed, personal way to just anyone. To be allowed to not only see him this way but to cause the affect made Billie all sorts of exhilarated.

Brave enough to experiment, when her hand moved on its own and without his help he almost buckled, reverted to murmuring noises helplessly.

Suddenly things happened even faster than before. John gasped her name "...Billie..." and she found herself reeling again. He was kissing her, everywhere, and leaning back to the point where she had to follow. Her hand grasped around his neck, trying to keep up with his pace, but she realized soon enough he was more interested in exploring her own body. His kisses started at her neck, roaming down to her chest. As she lay back upon the bed she could only see the top of his head and arched, taut shoulders. His hands slipped under the silken fabric of her camisole and pushed it upward, it gathering under her breasts.

"You're so beautiful," he told her, almost rasping. She could feel his hands roaming her bare midsection, the open air and his tantalizing kisses drawing light goosebumps to rise across her skin. "...your eyes...your arms, your legs...you're so soft!..."

He spoke in powerful whispers. Billie could tell he was more than caught up in the moment and knew the things he said could be chalked up to pure over excitement. Still, she didn't stop him.

"...the way you laugh...the way you smile and your dimples show..."

At this point Billie let out a small, maybe nervous giggle, and John arched up just in time to see the smile he described. "Like that," he grinned, touching her cheek and leaning forward to kiss her quickly.

His kisses started to huddle further down her body. Where once his lips were trailing her collarbone now they adorned the space between her breasts and she was aware of the feeling of his mouth meeting the bare skin of her stomach. As he kissed, even letting his tongue come out to trail lines across her stomach, her midsection quivered up and down under her ragged breath. Suddenly his tongue was felt somewhere near her bellybutton and she gasped.

"Jimmy...," she whispered anxiously, attempting to arch up and not getting very far. She could still only see the top of his head. "Jimmy...I-I've...I've never-"

"I know," he replied, grinning against her skin and continuing to kiss though his shoulders had gone slightly tense at hearing the name.