Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Focusing on my fingers, I continued my sonata. “Tessa, go home.”
She gasped. I wasn’t sure what Josie did, but if she had a reaction, it was silent.
“We. Are. Over!” Tessa stomped down the hallway and right down the stairs. A few seconds later, the front door slammed shut.
I moved to the middle of the song, leaning into the increasing tempo of the homophonic texture. Josie leaned her head on my shoulder.
“Are you the real thing? Does every other girl hold your place?” I asked her.
She drew in a slow breath and released it even slower. I couldn’t see her eyes, but I imagined them drifting shut. “I hope so.”
With that reply, I leaned my head on hers and finished the song. After the final note, her hand slid to my lap, taking my hand and guiding it to her stomach.
Beneath her shirt.
To her chest.
Into the cup of her bra.
Another girl was giving me an erection that day, only it wasn’t just any girl. Josephine Watts was the girl.
My hand remained idle for several breaths, her chest pulsing in and out … faster, deeper. When the pad of my thumb brushed her nipple, she released an audible breath.
“Close your bedroom door,” she whispered.
She didn’t have to ask me twice. I slid off the bench and closed the door. When I turned back toward her, she was sliding down her shorts and her panties, leaving her shirt on as she sat on the piano bench again. Her hands rested on her bare legs, her gaze struggling to meet mine as she chewed her lower lip.
“Have you had oral sex?” she asked, forcing her gaze to meet mine while her voice wobbled with uncertainty.
I shook my head slowly, unsure where I needed to keep my gaze. It wanted to track south.
“Do you want to?” I had never heard Josie sound so afraid, so nervous.
I nodded since my voice seemed to be on vacation. If this was her idea of an apology for the milk incident, I welcomed our next fight. My heart thrashed around in my chest so violently I thought it might explode while I took a few steps toward her.
“Here?” I whispered. The bed seemed like a more logical option, but for whatever reason, she sat back down on my piano bench after exposing herself.
Josie returned several tiny nods, lips pressed together while she took a hard swallow. I lowered to my knees in front of her. Her eyes flared, unblinking. Leaning forward, my hands rested on the bench beside her.
We kissed.
Josie was familiar, but not “the same.” Nothing about her got old. In fact, she grounded me. Even on the days she left me dizzy with her rules and sudden mood changes, I was unequivocally the best version of myself.
Our kiss was slow. So was her hand guiding mine between her legs, inching it along her inner thigh.
Up … up … up …
With every micro-movement, whooshes of air pushed out of her nose. I wasn’t as well versed in oral sex as some of my friends, so I had a little apprehension, hence the long kiss. When the tip of my finger reached the apex of her slightly spread legs, she gripped my hand, a vise stopping me from going any farther.
Our kiss broke, and we breathed into each other’s mouths. Had she let go of my hand, she would have felt it shaking as much as her legs. If she wasn’t sure about me touching her with my fingers, how was she going to let me put my mouth in that very spot?
I nearly came in my pants just thinking about it.
“Maybe I should do it to you first,” she whispered over my lips.
“That’s … um … f-fine. If you … uh … want to.” How did I think I was going to have sex with Tessa (who thought I was experienced) when I could barely express a coherent thought with Josie? I couldn’t imagine Josie giving me a blow job, if I were being honest. I never asked Chief Watts what Savannah usually did with his load. Did it go into her mouth? Was swallowing involved? My friend, Bart, deposited his jizz onto his girlfriend’s chest. But Josie had her shirt on. Was I supposed to ask her to take it off? It couldn’t go onto her shirt. Savannah would see it in the laundry. I had a hand towel tucked under my mattress, but if I grabbed it, Josie would’ve seen how well-used that hand towel was, and I wasn’t ready to be that honest with her.
“Or I could just touch you with my fingers,” I whispered back to her. We seemed to be stuck mere millimeters apart, my hand still so close to the goal line. I considered saying, “I could finger you,” but I wasn’t sure that was an expression girls liked to hear. It was commonly referenced in the boys’ locker room, but so were a lot of other crude comments.