Page 84 of The Other Side
I didn’t think I’d ever had the desire to give any of the guys I dated head, but there was something about the noises Chance made, how he had insisted on making me come first, and how sweet he had been for weeks, going out of his way to make me comfortable, but making sure I knew he was still very much interested.
I wanted Chance to feel good, and I wanted to be the one to do it.
What I couldn’t fit in my mouth, I used my hand to stroke, occasionally grazing his balls, if only to hear the guttural grumble that would emit from Chance as a result. He muttered encouragingly, stroking his hand softly down my back, occasionally pausing when something I did felt particularly good.
Bobbing and sucking and swirling my tongue around the tip, I went back and forth, driving Chance into a frenzy. Eventually he was so incensed that he had to remove his hands from me entirely, clenching the sheets in his fists, trying to hold on for as long as he could.
“I’m going to come,” Chance ground out, giving me enough time to pull back. I gentled my strokes as he spilled his release on his stomach, stilling only when his fingertips grazed my hand in a silent request to stop the motion.
We both sat there for a moment, panting and dazed. Already what we’d done felt surreal.
Chance reached out to me, coaxing me into another slow and sensual kiss. It was as if there were a million things we both wanted to say and think, but letting our lips do the talking was a much better option and seemed to say more than words ever could in that moment.
Chance’s kiss reassured and calmed me, telling me that he was in this, that he was going to take care of me, and that I meant something to him.
God, I felt it.
He kissed me like I belonged to him and he’d fight to keep me. That was the kind of thing I’d been searching for my entire life.
And in my kiss, I let Chance take the lead, communicating that I was in this with him, and was fighting my instincts to pull away. I was fighting for him…for us. And I fought for his kisses and his adoration and his kindness. I needed him to understand that I saw him for who he was…who he truly was, on the inside,not the facade he’d been forced to hide behind under his father’s watchful eye. I saw him and I wanted him, just as he was.
Pulling back, breathless, Chance said softly, “We should clean up.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if he could see me, but he seemed to comprehend nonetheless. He made quick work of himself in the bathroom, leaving the light on for me when he returned.
Again I avoided looking at my reflection, unsure of what I would see there. But when I got back in bed, Chance tugged me closer, pulling me into his arms. His embrace, just like his heartbeat, was warm, strong, and steady.
“You are fucking everything,” he breathed, combing his fingers through my hair, my head resting against his chest.
