In Summertime Saga

She turned over at two in the morning and I was awake.

I'd been awake the whole time. An hour of her breathing against my chest, deep and steady, her bruised wrist pressed to my sternum. An hour of running the walkthrough in my head and getting nowhere. An hour of staring at the ceiling in the dark while the streetlight through the curtain put a stripe of light across the foot of the bed.

She turned and we were face to face.

Her eyes were open. The streetlight caught the grey of them, pale and liquid in the dark. Her hair was loose on the pillow and her face was creased from the fabric and she was looking at me and she knew I was awake because she'd been lying against my chest and my breathing had been too even.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi."

She put her hands on my jaw. Both hands. Her fingers were warm and her thumbs were on my cheekbones and her bruised wrist was against my neck and she pulled me in and kissed me.

This wasn't the shower. The shower had been fast and slippery and half-panicked and she'd left afterward and called me sweetie over eggs. This was slow. Her mouth was soft and tasted like sleep and she kissed me like she'd been thinking about it for the hour she was pretending to be asleep. Her tongue found mine and a sound came out of her, low, almost a hum, and her hands slid from my jaw into my hair and she pulled me closer.

I pulled her tight against me. Her body came flush with mine, the bathrobe bunching between us, her breasts pressing through the fabric against my bare chest. My hand went to the small of her back and her body pressed against mine and her hips shifted and my cock was hard against her thigh through my boxers and she felt it and her breath caught but she didn't pull away. She pressed closer.

I kissed her neck. Below her ear, where her pulse was fast, and down the tendon to her collarbone. She tilted her head back and the bathrobe's collar fell open wider and her chest was bare from the collarbones down and I kissed the hollow at the base of her throat. Salt. Warm skin. The faint trace of her shampoo from hours ago.

My hand found the belt of the robe. Untied it. The robe fell open.

She was naked underneath. She'd been naked under the robe this whole time, asleep against me, and the streetlight stripe caught the curve of her stomach and the underside of her breast and she was looking at me while I looked at her and she was shaking. Her lips pressed together and her chin lifted and she let me look.

Her body was a woman's body. Full breasts, heavy, the nipples dark and already hard. Her stomach was soft, warm, and her hips were wide and her thighs were full and there was a scar low on her left side, small, a faded white line.

"Appendix," she said. "Twenty years ago."

I kissed the scar. She laughed, quiet, and her hand went to my hair.

I kissed up from the scar to the underside of her left breast. Her breathing changed. My mouth found her nipple and her fingers tightened in my hair and a sound came out of her, small, her back arching to press into my mouth. I ran my tongue across the peak and she sucked air through her teeth.

"Nn-"

I moved to the other one. Took it between my lips, gentle, then harder when her hand pressed the back of my head. The taste of her skin was warm and the nipple was hard under my tongue and she was squirming under me, her hips lifting off the mattress, grinding against nothing because I was beside her, not between her legs. I put my hand on her hip and held her still and she made a frustrated sound through her nose.

I kissed lower. Across her stomach, the muscles twitching under my lips. Down past her navel. Her breathing went shallow and fast and her thighs opened without her telling them to and I moved between them and her hand in my hair tightened.

"Arthur, you don't have to-"

I put my mouth on her.

"Ah-"

She was wet. The taste of her was salt and musk and warm and her clit was swollen and sensitive and she jerked when my tongue found it. I circled it. Slow. The same left-side pressure she liked, the same pace I'd learned in the shower, and her hips rocked up toward my mouth.

"Oh- oh god-"

I pressed my hands against her inner thighs, holding them apart. Her skin was hot under my palms. She was trying to close them, the reflexive fight between her body wanting more and her body wanting to hide, and I held them open and kept my mouth on her.

I licked her in long strokes, bottom to top, and she was getting wetter with each one. The taste changed, got thicker, and the wet sounds of my mouth on her were audible in the quiet room and her face went red. She grabbed the sheet with her left hand and twisted.

"Right- right there- don't- ah-"

My cock was aching. Hard against the mattress, pressing into the sheets, and every sound she made went straight through me. I wanted to be inside her and I couldn't because her thighs were shaking around my head and she was getting close and this came first.

I sealed my lips around her clit and sucked gently and worked the tip of my tongue in a circle and her back arched off the mattress. I slid two fingers inside her and she was soaking, the wetness running down my knuckles, and I curled up and found the spot and her hand went from the sheet to my hair and pulled.

"Arthur- please- I can't- nn- ah-"

Her words were breaking apart. She started something and lost it. Her hips had a rhythm against my mouth that she wasn't controlling, grinding, and the wet sounds were loud and she heard them because her free hand came up to cover her eyes, embarrassed by the noise her own body was making.

I looked up at her face from between her legs. In the stripe of streetlight her mouth was open and her eyes were behind her hand and her head was turned to the side and the flush had spread from her cheeks down her neck to her chest.

Her right hand went flat against the mattress. Palm down. Pressing hard.

I curled my fingers. Kept my tongue moving.

She came with her back lifting off the bed. Her thighs clamped against my head and her stomach went rigid and a sound tore out of her that started as my name and ended as nothing, her voice cutting out, her body clenching around my fingers in hard pulses. I held on. Kept my mouth soft on her through the aftershocks, each one making her flinch and gasp, her hand pressing harder into the mattress until the sheets pulled tight beneath it.

I eased off. Kissed her inner thigh. Let her breathe.

She was staring at the ceiling. Her chest was heaving, nipples dark and hard, her stomach jumping with each breath, and her hair was spread across the pillow and her face was wet and flushed. She reached for me.

"Come here."

I crawled up over her. She pulled me down and kissed me and she could taste herself and she didn't care. Her hands went to my boxers. She pushed them down my hips and my cock sprang free and she wrapped her hand around it and I dropped my forehead against her shoulder.

"I want you inside me," she said. Against my mouth. Raw and quiet and the words cost her.

I positioned myself between her legs. Her thighs were slick and her pussy was swollen and wet from coming and I pressed the head against her and held still. She was looking at me. Grey eyes in the dark, wet at the corners.

"Look at me," I said.

She held my gaze. I pushed in.

The first inch was tight. She hadn't had anyone inside her in years and her body fought it for a second and then opened and I slid deeper and her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide and then shut and then open again because I'd told her to look at me.

I went slow. Inch by inch. Watching her face as I filled her. Her mouth opened and closed and her brow pulled tight and when I bottomed out and my hips were flat against hers she made a sound that was almost a word and her arms came around my back and her legs wrapped around my waist and she held on.

Tight. She held on tight, her arms locked behind my shoulders, her heels digging into the backs of my thighs, her face in my neck.

"Stay with me," I said.

"I'm here."

I pulled back and pushed in again. Slow. The full length, the drag of her walls gripping me on the outstroke, the slick heat of re-entry. She gasped against my neck on every stroke. Her body was adjusting, opening around me, getting wetter with each thrust, and the small slick sound of me inside her was getting louder in the quiet room.

Her breasts were pressed against my chest, soft and full, her nipples dragging against my skin on each stroke. My weight was on my elbows, my forearms on either side of her head, and her hair was caught under my left arm and neither of us moved it. The bed was warm where our bodies had been lying and the sheets were tangled around our legs and her skin was starting to get damp where mine pressed against it.

She was crying.

Tears running from the corners of her eyes into her hair, silent, her face pressed against my shoulder and her body still rocking with me and the tears were warm on my skin where they landed. She was crying and her hips were lifting to meet me and her arms were tight around my back. The tears weren't grief. They were release. Months of it, coming out all at once.

I wiped her cheek with my thumb. She turned her face into my palm and kissed it, her lips wet, and I kept moving. Slow. Deep. My cock sliding in and out of her with the steady rhythm she needed.

"Debbie."

Her name. She opened her eyes. Tears still coming but she was looking at me and she was present.

"Don't stop," she whispered. "Please don't stop."

I didn't stop. Slow. Deep. My cock sliding in and out of her, the steady pace she needed. Her sounds went quieter, past the loud part, each one a small "ah" matching my thrusts against my neck. "Ah- ah- ah-" Soft and broken and matching my pace.

Her pussy was getting tighter around me, the slow build, and the wet sounds between us were louder and sweat was forming where my chest pressed against hers and the heat of the bed was rising and my arms were burning from holding my weight and I didn't care because her face was inches from mine and I was watching her fall apart in slow motion.

Her hand went flat against the mattress again. Palm down. Fingers spread. The tell.

She was close. Tightening around me, rhythmic, gripping and releasing, her breathing going shallow, held.

I pushed in and stayed deep. Ground forward. My pelvic bone against her clit. Held there. Her whole body went taut and I stayed and she broke.

The second orgasm was quiet. A full-body clench, her arms and legs locking around me, her pussy gripping me so tight I couldn't move, her face buried against my neck and a single long exhale that carried a sustained sound of release that went on and on while her body pulsed around me. The tightness was everywhere, her thighs locked on my hips, her arms crushing my shoulders, her walls gripping in waves, and the heat and the pressure and her voice against my throat pushed me to the edge.

I came inside her.

My hips drove forward, three hard uneven thrusts, and I buried my face in her hair and the release tore through me and I finished deep inside her and the heat of it spread between us. Her arms held me through it, her legs still wrapped around me, and she made a small sound when she felt it, a quiet "oh" against my shoulder, her body clenching once more around me.

We stayed like that.

Connected. Breathing. Her arms loosening by degrees. Her legs slowly unwrapping. My weight on my elbows, most of it on the mattress, some on her. Her heartbeat against my chest, slowing. Her breathing against my neck, evening out.

I was still inside her. Softening. Her warmth around me.

She moved her hand from the mattress. Brought it to my face. Her fingers traced my jaw, my cheekbone, the line of my mouth. Her eyes were red and wet and clear.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi."

She almost smiled. A real one. Small and tired and raw and her thumb was on my lower lip and the streetlight stripe had moved across the bed and it was on her shoulder now and the rest of her was in shadow and she didn't look away and she didn't reach for the sheet.

"Arthur," she said. Just my name.

I kissed her thumb. Pulled out slowly. She shivered when I left her and I rolled onto my side next to her and she turned into me and pressed her forehead against my chest and her arm came across my stomach and we lay there.

Her bruised wrist was on my ribs. The tears were drying on her cheeks. The room was dark and still and she was breathing against me and the house was quiet.

"Stay," she said.

I stayed.