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going anywhere.”
    And then we were
on each other, our hands rubbing, grabbing, fondling with complete abandon. We
shucked our clothes with a speed born of need. I moaned when his bare skin
touched mine, my breasts crushed against his chest as we kissed. He bent down
and took one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, and I arched my back and rubbed
my fingers along his scalp, urging him on. He moved to the other breast, laving
it with the same attention as the one before. I squeaked when he bit down,
causing an instant rush of moisture in my crotch.
    He licked the
valley between my breasts then moved lower, pressing kisses on my stomach, my
belly button, and the insides of my thighs. A grin flashed across his face a
moment before he disappeared between my legs.
    I’d received oral
from a man before, knew what a tongue felt like down there, but Henry was in a
whole other league. I didn’t even want to know where he’d learned the moves,
but his tongue was masterful as they licked and glided through my folds in a
languid but firm manner. I sucked in a breath when he pushed his tongue inside
me and his entire mouth covered my mound, forming a pressurized vacuum of
pleasure.
    “Oh God,” I
breathed, grabbing his head as my insides clutched at his tongue, wanting more.
There was not nearly enough of him inside me. My back arched up off the bed
and, just as I was about to explode, the wretched man pulled away. “What? Why
did you stop?” I shrieked.
    He positioned
himself above me. “Because,” was all he said before he slammed into me and the
orgasm raced through my body. He pulled out and slammed back to the hilt,
giving me another wave to crest. I screamed the third time he pounded into me,
the orgasm going on and on.
    He stilled then,
his eyes closed and eyebrows drawn together, enjoying the sensation of my
vaginal walls convulsing around him. “Elsie,” he said with a trembling voice.
He withdrew slowly and entered even slower still, continuing the relentless
torture at a pace that had me clutching at his butt, urging him to go faster.
But he kept the unhurried pace, his arms on either side of my head as he kissed
me tenderly.
    Henry was making
love to me.
    The realization
hit me like an avalanche and I was buried under the rubble. Tears pooled at the
corners of my eyes as I gazed up at him, unable to believe that this man, who
was once just a boy, was mine. At least for the moment.
    I wrapped my legs
around his back and urged him deeper into me. He never picked up speed, never
wavered in his steady thrusting, and I felt another orgasm building charge.
With each drawn-out stroke, my muscles wound tighter and tighter, my body
coiling into him until the final stroke that snapped me, made me scream his name as he shuddered his release.
    Afterward, he did
the atypical and stayed in my room, slept on the bed that he’d deemed “too soft
and girly smelling” forever ago, wrapped around me like my very own man
blanket. And for the first time in a long time, since Jason’s death really, I
fell into a deep and contented slumber.

 
    ~

 
    You know that
saying about taking a step back to get a fresh perspective? Well, I didn’t
really need to step back to clear my mind; all I needed was six hours of sleep.
When I woke the next morning to the sight of Henry’s sleeping face beside me,
my heart just about burst with a feeling so acute, so fierce, that only a fool
could have mistaken it for anything else.
    I had been
deluding myself all of these years, thinking I could live my entire life as
nothing but his roommate. I thought I’d successfully extinguished the torch that
I held for him, but in the space of a few days, the embers had been rekindled
and the whole damn thing caught fire.
    I was madly in
love with Henry: always had been, probably always would be.
    Admitting it
exhilarated and scared the hell out of me. It was akin to leaning all the way
back on a swing, feeling the rush and seeing the world in a new angle