Creep - Jennifer Hillier [118]
She smiled a smile he couldn’t interpret. “Wish I had foster parents. I’m staying in a group home.”
He knew that already but nodded politely. “You want something to drink?”
“Not really. Where’s your room?”
Thirty minutes later, books open and cast aside, she was naked from the waist up.
She lay underneath him on his bed, her long hair fanned out over the pillow. She smelled of lilacs and rain forest and he couldn’t stop kissing her. Her lips were a wonder all to themselves, at times soft and yielding, at times hard and demanding. In the background, the radio was tuned to a rock station.
He was propped up on top of her, eyes squeezed shut, humping her with his pants still on. He didn’t ever want to stop kissing her. His palms massaged her bare breasts and he was delirious with joy and desire. When he opened his eyes a moment later, he saw that she was staring at him, a small smile on her face.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, slowing down.
She nodded, but her expression hinted at something different. Placing both her hands on his chest, she pushed him gently off her.
He sat up on the bed, confused. Had he done something wrong? Were they finished? Had she changed her mind?
“Don’t worry,” she said, as if she could read his thoughts. “Just getting into position. I want to get closer to you.”
She pulled her jeans down, then her underwear, motioning for him to do the same. He couldn’t take his eyes off the dark thatch of hair between her legs as she climbed on top of him. When he tried to lie back on the bed, she shook her head.
“No, stay like you are.” She sat on him, reaching down to help him slide inside her. A groan escaped his lips. The wetness and warmth were beyond words.
Sitting up, locked together like this, his face was right against hers. He kissed her deeply and another groan escaped him as she started moving her hips. Her hair was so long that the soft ends tickled his thighs.
He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands—at the moment, they were around her waist, pulling her to him, but did she want them somewhere else?
She stopped kissing him long enough to ask, “Is this your first time?”
He nodded. “Should we—I can go see if George has condoms . . .”
Without slowing down, she reached behind her, taking both his hands in hers. Her eyes were fixed on his when she placed his hands around her throat.
“Squeeze,” she said.
He stared at her, his hips still rocking under hers. “What?”
“Squeeze.”
He obliged her and closed his fingers around her delicate neck, but gently. He understood what she wanted, but he didn’t want to hurt her.
“A little harder,” she said. “It’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me, I’ll tell you when to ease up.” Her eyes were focused on his and she kissed him, her tongue searching his mouth urgently.
There were no words for the exquisite pleasure, no words to describe the incredible feeling of connectedness he had with her at this moment. It was better than anything he could have imagined. She threw her head back, thrusting into him faster. Almost without thinking, his fingers tightened.
A few seconds later, he pulled his hands away from her throat, scared he’d hurt her.
She took his hands and put them back. “Don’t worry.” Her eyes were locked on his and her voice was patient. “I’ll tell you when it’s too much. Really, I like it. It intensifies it for me.”
She tilted her head back again, placing her hands behind her, palms resting just above his knees. Her thrusts were long and deep. Leaning forward, he devoured her breasts. His hands stayed around her throat as she wanted, squeezing. It wasn’t long before he began to lose himself in her again, and he only vaguely heard the DJ on the radio announce the next song.
“Creep,” by Radiohead.
“I love this song,” she whispered, extending an arm toward the stereo to turn up the volume. “It makes me feel so . . .”
She didn’t finish her sentence, but he didn’t need her to because he knew what she was trying to say.
“Creep” was about obsession, unrequited love, and self-pity . . . feelings he understood all too