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I’m pacing the entryway because Brody will be here soon and I have to let him in and I don’t understand what we are now. Or how to act. I mean, I didn’t understand before, either. But now I doubly don’t understand. If that is a thing.
I didn’t get much sleep last night after he left. I slept fine while he was there, though. In his arms. Cocooned in his heat and the hard planes of his body. I felt so safe and at peace.
"At peace" is not something a person like me feels very often. Always living in your brain means never really feeling comfortable in your body. And your brain never shuts off. Maybe it was the orgasms, but I suspect it was the orgasms and being held by Brody that allowed my brain to rest.
For that short time, I had nothing to worry about. When Brody told me, “I’ve got this,” right before he rocked my world off its foundation, I let go. For the first time maybe. I knew he would care for me. I knew there was nothing to do or think or worry about. I even felt sure that he wanted me. That he desired me. I’ve never, ever felt that before.
I trusted him.
But now I don’t know how I feel.
I don’t know if he wants me still or again. I suspect that it was a one-time thing brought on by the extenuating circumstances of my epic and humiliating masturbatory show. But after watching him take matters into his own hands, I understand why it was sexually stimulating for him to see me with my hand in my own pussy. We are just animals underneath it all. Being turned on isn’t the same thing as desiring someone.
I spent a lot of time last night reliving the hours he spent in my bedroom. Having an orgasm is the highlight of my college career so far. Having Brody want me like that is the highlight of my life so far.
But how does Brody feel today? He knows my nerdy side, and now he knows me naked. Does he want a repeat? Does he expect a repeat? Does he think we should have sex now?
Do I want to have sex now?
I think about his large penis...no...that sounds clinical... I think about his monster cock...and think yes, very much I want to have sex now. But then again, he was big. Too big perhaps. I fear he’s not a starter penis.
And he’s not a starter boyfriend. Brody’s too intense. Too alpha. Even experienced girls would have trouble not drowning in his testosterone. I’m afraid he’ll swamp me.
I’m also afraid I’ll fall for him. That would be the worst. The hardest. Because he’s got broken heart written all over him. And I know I’d never recover. My heart is not as strong as my brain. I have to be sure when I give it to someone. I’m the kind of person who can only give it once. If I don’t choose wisely, I’ll be damaged forever.
The doorbell rings.
I inhale too deeply, choking on my breath. I’m still coughing a little when I swing the door open.
God, he’s beautiful.
Now I know too much. I can’t unsee how he looks under his clothes. I understand lust now—how it grabs hold and shakes you like a ragdoll.
My clothes feel uncomfortable and restricting. I want to tear them off. Tear his off as well. This would not be logical as we are standing in front of the door. But logic seems to be failing me.
“Are you going to let me in, little girl?” he drawls the double entendre a little too confidently. Like he’s reading my mind. That I’m amusing him again.
I straighten my spine. I don’t want to amuse him. I don’t want to be a joke to him. I want a level playing field, but I don’t know how to get to it. I’m at the bottom of the cliff face and a level field seems a long way up. “I haven’t decided yet.”
He smiles. A real one. I think my heart just doubled in size. “Oh, you’re going to let me in. All the way in. Just a matter of time.”
Well, then. That answers one of my questions. He wants me again.
Maybe.
God. This stuff is so hard.
I take extra time making sure to swing the deadbolt after I let him in so I can breathe a little longer. When I turn, he’s watching me very closely. He takes a step closer, caging my head between his arms and the door. “How are you doing today, sweetheart?”
“I...I’m...”
He’s so close. His eyes are burning with a dark fire. “Have you been thinking of me?”
I nod. “Yes.”
Then his mouth crashes down onto mine. He swallows my gasp, and I clutch his shirt. We didn’t kiss last night. Well, I didn’t kiss him. He kissed me plenty, just not my face. But he is mimicking the things he did to me last night, only this time to my mouth. Plunging his tongue inside, tasting me. It’s too much and not enough, so my hands creep up his rock-hard chest and loop around the back of his neck so I can bring him closer.
A guttural groan escapes his throat as he grasps my hips while he grinds into me like he can’t get close enough. He moves to my neck, sucking and biting. I think he means to leave a mark. I want him to. I want proof when I look in the mirror that this is real. That somehow I made this big man want me this much.
He palms my butt and lifts. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”
As soon as I do, he’s grinding me harder into the door at my back. The tingle in my pussy grows into a throb.
“Did you make yourself come after I left?”
His cock is so hard, and it’s pushing against my clit relentlessly. He asked me something...what was it? “Oh!” I shout as the fireworks start behind my eyelids. He pauses, waiting for me to answer him.
I nod. “Yes. Yes I can do it now. I don’t think I’m broken anymore.” In fact, I think I’m pretty close to having another orgasm right now.
Maybe I shouldn’t have told him. Now he knows he solved my orgasm problem, and maybe he won’t help me out with it anymore.
He pushes into me harder. I’m so close to coming again. I’m like a coming machine after yesterday.
“I’m gonna watch you make yourself come sometime,” he says, then buries his face in my neck, inhaling deeply. “But this one is mine.” He starts using those big hands to manipulate my hips so that I’m rubbing against him again. The tingling sensation starts in my toes and works its way up my body. “Come on me again, nutmeg.”
My fingers dig into his shoulders as I shatter from the inside out. But he doesn’t relent.
“Fuck, that’s so hot. I could watch you come all fucking day.”
Well, that’s good. Because I’m coming again.
After I stop crying out, he kisses my forehead. He’s moved one hand up to cup the back of my neck, the other is still supporting my butt as he pushes us away from the door and carries me to the couch in the living room. He’s murmuring things to me, but I’m only getting broken bits here and there because I’m still out in the stratosphere somewhere. I hear things like, “good girl” and “mine now” but it takes a few more minutes for me to realize we’re sitting on the couch. He’s cradling me in his lap, and he’s alternating his words with kisses to my temple.
He’s holding me. It shouldn’t be such a strange sensation to be held. It’s amazing. I burrow into him more, and he laughs.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” he says after a few more minutes of silence.
I freeze up. He didn’t want it to happen. He hadn’t meant for...wow am I ever lame. I stiffen as much as I can, already missing the smell of his skin. But I need to pull away.
He holds me tighter. “Relax. That’s not what I meant. Come back here.” He pushes my head back down, my nose back into his neck.
“What did you mean then?” Because I might be about to cry and I’ve not had much experience with that either.
“I wanted to ask you out on a real date. Treat you right. But then I looked at you, and all I could think of was making you come. It’s addictive. You’re like my drug, nutmeg.”
I relax. And then tense up. Wait, what? “You want to take me out on a date?”
“Yeah. For starters.”
Starters?
“I’ve never been on a date.”
“I’m going to take care of a lot of your firsts.”
His words fill me with a momentary sense of peace, but then my mind is whirring with all the things I might need to do to get ready for a date. All of my clothes are wrong. My hair is boring. I don’t know how to wear makeup. And God only knows what would happen if I tried to wear the only pair of heels in my closet out of the house. So far, they’ve been a “walk around the bedroom to practice” piece of my wardrobe.
“Relax. I can see the smoke coming out of your ears from all your thinking. It’s just a date. It’s just us.”
“That doesn’t help, Brody. People are going to look at you and wonder what you are doing with me. You don’t have to take me out in public. I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I don’t expect—”
He puts a finger on my mouth to stop my verbal diarrhea. “You should start expecting.” He takes his hand back, and I take a quick breath to start talking again, so he puts it back on my mouth. “For one thing, you care too much about what people think. If they pay any attention at all, they’ll see two people trying to have a normal dinner together. They might notice you are nervous. They might also see that I’m possessive as fuck about you and stay out of our way.”
He pulls his hand away again, but gives me a look that says he’s not above shutting me up again if I start doubting him. “Why would they see that?”
“Because I am.”
“Why?”
“Why is the sky blue? Things just are. I want to take you out because I want you to see that you deserve to be taken out. But I also want to take you out because I want some good lasagna and good company.”
“I actually make a good lasagna,” I tell him. Ignoring the part about the good company.
“You cook?” he asks.
“Quite well. Would you like me to make you a meal here?” Please?
“Next time. Tonight, I’m taking you out. And...if you’re down with it... back to my house.”
“Why?”
“My bed is bigger.”
Oh. Oh. “Um.”
“We don’t have to fuck tonight. But I want to have you in my bed. I want my sheets to smell like you.”
He doesn’t have to do any of this. I think of all the data I’ve accumulated over the years about why I’m undesirable and why a hot guy like Brody doesn’t have to put any work into getting a woman in his bed, but especially one like me, and none of it correlates with what he is telling me. That he wants to wine and dine me. That he wants to cuddle for God’s sake.
“You don’t have to go through all this. You could have had me against the door,” I say. My heart is balancing on a tightrope. This could go so very badly. I want to trust that this is real. I want to feel the way I did last night when he told me he’d take care of everything if I just gave him my trust.
“Baby, I could have had your cherry last night. We both know it. And I want it. And I’ll get it. But I want more than that sweet little pussy, no matter how tempting it is. I want this,” he tapped my head, “and I want this,” he put a hand over my heart. “And before you ask, I don’t know why. Maybe on paper, we’re not a good fit. But the minute I saw you, I wanted to protect you, make you mine. I like it when you tell me the stuff going on in your brain. I like it when I can make that dimple pop out. I like it when your eyes go soft and you come calling out my name. I figure there’s plenty more about you that I’m going to like learning about.”
This couldn’t possibly be my life right now.
“You’re doubting me again,” he says. “Maybe it will take you some time to gather all your scientific evidence and come to a conclusion about me. I’m not worried.”
“What’s it like to have all that confidence?” I ask.
“I’m not arrogant. I mean, I have confidence in my work. But the reason I know it’s right between us is all on you.”
Well, that can’t be possible. “Me?”
“You don’t trust easy. I get that. Neither do I. But you told me about your dreams when we first met. You let a big guy who intimidated you right into your house. You trusted me last night to help you. And you were never afraid of me. Because deep inside, you know that I’m good for you. And you’re good for me.” He picks up my hand and kisses it. “It’s your trust in me that gave me the confidence to ask you out.”
My heart starts racing. “Seriously, we can just stay here.” Because the things he is saying, the way he is looking at me, makes me want to take him upstairs right now.
I’m so afraid I’ll screw this up.
“Nope.” He sighs heavily. “I have work to do in the study now. Be ready at six.”
He rolls up and puts me on my feet.
“Brody, I don’t know how to dress for a date. I’m not good at the girl stuff. I don’t want to embarrass you.”
“Wear what you’re wearing now.” He leans over and whispers into my ear, “Maybe skip the panties.”