Chapter 22

22

GINA

A t first, I didn't know where I was when I woke. It wasn't my own bed, and it wasn't the hotel room. There was a body sleeping beside me—a warm male body. It all came back to me in a rush—the drive from Nashville, finding Porter in the diner, the sex at the hotel. I was in his bed, in his crappy room, four feet from the door. And I was happy.

I stretched out, not sure what time it was. George had called me, and I had driven to Porter's home, desperate to talk to a friend. He had given me a listening ear and the longest hug ever invented. I must have fallen asleep.

I had to pee, and I wanted to take a look at myself in the mirror. I realized I had marched into his bedroom with tears streaming down my face, and I was aghast. It was too early in our relationship to show up looking disheveled. I didn't know exactly what we were to each other, except that we were definitely lovers, definitely friends, and closer than I had ever been to anyone else in my life.

I inched off the mattress, trying to be quiet. Crossing the room in a few spare steps, I slipped out the door onto the landing. There was no hallway, just a carpeted area with a kitchenette and five closed doors. Which one was the bathroom? I couldn't tell. I examined each of them, picking the one that looked the most used. It was right next to the refrigerator, which made sense. The toilet probably shared piping with the kitchen sink.

I held my breath and knocked. When no one answered, I twisted the knob. The door opened and let me in to a medium-sized bathroom with blue tile. There was a shower stall in one corner and a potty in the other. I locked the door, used the facilities, and washed my hands. In the mirror above the sink, I saw a gruesome face. My eyes were puffy and red from the tears. My hair, so lovingly combed and styled earlier in the day, lay flat, except for some rebellious strands that poked haphazardly from the nest.

Without my makeup or any products of any kind, I splashed water on my face. I found some apricot scrub that one of Porter's housemates had left on a shelf beside the sink. I knew it was wrong, but I stole a pea-sized amount. Afterward, I felt better, and the woman in the mirror looked slightly less objectionable.

I straightened my hair and snuck back across the landing to Porter's room. I thought he was asleep, so I opened the door gently. Closing it behind myself, I could barely see. It was dark outside. He didn't have any curtains on the windows, and the blinds were still up. Outside was a blue-black sea devoid of stars or trees.

As my eyes adjusted, I maneuvered toward the bed. Luckily there wasn't anything in my way, so I didn't have to worry about tripping. I reached the mattress, hands out to provide tactile information. I came face-to-face with Porter, who was awake and sitting up in bed. I stifled a gasp, feeling laughter bubble up in my gut.

"I thought you were asleep," I whispered.

"Nope," he said.

He pulled his shirt off, throwing it basketball-style into the laundry bin. I eyed his chest, faintly visible in the brushstrokes of streetlight that filtered through the window. I put a hand against him, urging him down on the bed.

"When I first saw you, you looked like this," I said reverently. "You had taken your shirt off and were lying on the bed."

"And you wanted to kiss me then," he guessed, sliding a hand between my knees.

"I did," I admitted.

"You can kiss me now if you want." I smirked. He defied my attempt to position him and rose up on his elbow.

I leaned forward, meeting him halfway. His lips were firm and insistent, the kiss slow. I basked in the attention, losing my balance and toppling into him. He wrapped an arm around my back to stabilize me, never breaking the kiss. I could feel heat beginning to rise in all parts of my body, from my shoulders down to my toes.

He reached a hand up to cup my scalp, running his fingers through my hair just as I had hoped he would. I felt the last traces of despair melt away under the intensity of our embrace. I forgot all about my problems as the solid wall of his chest contracted and lengthened with his movements.

As the kiss deepened, the rest of my figure began to itch for some of the same love that my lips were receiving. I slid my feet up onto the bed, straddling him, though we both still wore our jeans. I sat up, letting my hair flow naturally past my shoulders, arching my chest to build the excitement. He looked up at me with longing in his eyes. Even in the dim light, I could see his expression. It was equal parts disbelief and hunger, everything a girl wants in a man she's about to share her body with.

He slid his palms from my thighs to my buttocks, squeezing me through the denim. Continuing the journey, he fit his thumbs under the hem of my shirt and slid it up, uncovering my bra. I ducked beneath the fabric, aiding him in his quest to remove it. He cupped both breasts in his palms, rubbing gentle thumbs across the curves. I moaned when his exploration reached my nipples, already sensitive and pebbled beneath their casing.

He used his core muscles to sit up, capturing me in an embrace that rocked us both in our seats. I was beginning to feel the pulse of his erection beneath my crotch, a welcome foreshadowing of things to come. He undid the clasp of my bra, sliding the garment down my shoulders and off onto the floor.

Now we were both naked from the waist up, and our skin was free to feel every erotic sensation. He cupped my jaw, reclaiming my mouth as if he wasn't done with it yet. His fingers raced up and down my spine, growing in their intensity. My breasts were crushed to his shoulders, the movements his arms made driving me crazy.

I slid my fingernails across his scalp, feeling sawdust stir in their wake. He refused to end the kiss, hungry for more. I ground my hips down against his, searching in vain for that release. He lowered his hands to my waist and flipped me over expertly so I was lying on my back. With nimble fingers, he undid the button beneath my navel, pulling my pants and my underwear down in one sudden move.

I lay before him, completely nude, at the mercy of his affections. He took a moment to appreciate me, a moment I felt embarrassed and on display. When he finally moved, it was to suckle at one of my breasts, lavishing the nipple with a gentle tongue. He drew circles around my areola, tighter and tighter until he reached the peak. Drawing back, he blew on the swollen mound, causing a delicious shiver to race across my flesh.

Porter moved on to the remaining breast, cupping it in one hand like an apple ripe for the picking. He drew my hardened nub between his lips, engaging a suction that skyrocketed me to heaven. I wriggled beneath his teasing, aching for more, desperate for a release. He left my chest with a trail of kisses descending from one peak to the valley between them and then on to my navel.

A deep longing settled in my stomach. His lips were fire, burning a trench through my heart as he worked his way down. Bright lights exploded behind my eyes at the first brush of fingers against my intimate skin. He caressed my two outer folds, gently sweeping back and forth. The breath left my body, hanging in the air above me as he dipped first one finger and then two between the lines.

Inside, I felt him probing sweetly, using my own wetness to lubricate my clit. He swirled his finger around, slipping in and out, circling the sensitive flesh and dancing back inside. My eyes flew open, every muscle in my body tensing in unison. I tried to draw my legs up, but he held them fast, playing the piano of my core. I felt him dip further and further inside, alighting a flame of desire.

I cried out his name, urging him on. He obeyed my command, adding a third finger to the mix, rubbing the outer nub with his thumb. I couldn't see, and I couldn't think straight. I was dangerously close to the top of the tower, and there was only one thing I needed. I wanted him inside me now. Not his fingers or his tongue, but his cock.

"I need you," I rasped, painfully suppressing any further pleasure.

He stood up, pulled his pants off, and kicked them away. In the light from the window, I could see him at the side of the bed, all muscle, stroking his tool. I knew how it would feel, like heaven sliding between my thighs. The waiting was torture; my entire body was lit with a thirst that I couldn't quench alone.

He came down on top of me, one knee between my legs. I slid closer, eager to end the anticipation. I was all want when he filled me up, a trembling ball of desire. The further he sunk, the greater the relief, until his hips met mine and we fused, becoming one. Pleasure washed over me, the sensation of being complete filling my heart with joy. Every inch of my passageway stretched happily, aroused by his movement.

He pressed down first, as low as he could go, spreading my legs wide. Flexing his back, he raised up like an oil drill pumping for crude. He raked his manhood in and out, hitting that sweet spot deep within that I couldn't touch for myself. I felt the swell of the ocean rising beneath me, pleasure drawing me inexorably forward.

Just as I was about to cry out in relief, he slid out, leaving me vacant. He reached for my arm, leading me gently toward the head of the mattress. I flipped over onto all fours, following his instructions. He drew my hair aside like a curtain, feathering kisses along my neck. I locked my legs around his, pressing my ass against his erection.

I could hear him chuckle and felt a wave of embarrassment. It was gone the moment he delivered on his promise, entering me from behind. His body curved around me, his chest to my back, his cock buried deep inside. He held me close, one hand lovingly caressing my breast and the other stabilizing us on the bed. The world narrowed to just the two of us, just this room, just this bed. I had no way to express the joy I was feeling, no way to capture the moment besides rocking with him as he filled me over and over again.

Each thrust was pure pleasure, every sensation over-the-top. I was so hungry to be touched, I felt like a quivering lioness, conquered by her king. He found my other breast with one hand and lit two flames at once, rubbing and fucking until the dam between us broke. It felt so raw and hot and too good to be true. I felt the orgasm as one explosive triumph took hold of me, draining all the tension and anxiety away.

He ground himself deep, releasing his load into me as he clutched my hips. In that instant, I felt him further along my canal, so deep he almost touched my heart. We luxuriated there in the strain of coupling for a heartbeat, each one fighting to draw closer together. Breath came back to me in gasps. I collapsed against the pillow, my hair falling all over the place. Porter clung to me as aftershocks gripped his torso, his member doing its final internal dance before surrender.

I treasured all of the sensations, those last few minutes we were conjoined. But finally, we had to move. He dragged himself free, leaving me satisfied, tiny little quakes shaking through my stomach. I felt his hand on the base of my spine and a shift in the mattress as he moved.

"Are you hungry?" he said almost immediately, climbing off the bed instead of dropping down beside me.

I realized I was famished. I had been in the middle of lunch when George had called, and his intrusion had soured me to my final taco. I didn't know what time it was now, but it was late. I hadn't had anything to eat in what must have been close to twelve hours.

He flicked on the light and without any embarrassment went to close the blinds. I watched him move, his butt tight, his cock deflating. I didn't know what claim I had on this man, but that I was the one in his bed right now was enough. He certainly was nice to look at.

Impervious to my musings, Porter turned around and crossed to the dresser. He took out two towels and handed one to me. I accepted mine with a grin, climbing up off the mattress. We wrapped ourselves up and snuck out of the room to the bathroom. Luckily, there was no one in the common area, and we escaped notice. Locking the door, Porter turned on me, blessing me with a passionate kiss before turning the shower on.

"You want to go first?" he asked.

I shook my head. I didn't want to make him wait any longer, when he clearly had been wanting a shower all night. He didn't need any more encouragement, dropping his towel and hopping into the stall. I could see a hazy outline of his figure through the frosted plastic walls. He didn't waste time; he simply scrubbed his chest with a bar of soap. I drifted back to the mirror to look at myself. My hair was knotted again. I wasn't sure if I wanted to chance another visit to the hair salon. Maybe I could just go back to my hotel and get my own brush.

Porter finished and left the water running for me. He toweled off, waiting until I had freshened up before indicating that we should leave. I held one hand to the clasp of the towel, my other hand clutching his. He opened the bathroom door and peeked into the stairwell.

"Oh shit." He snapped the door shut again.

"What is it?" I asked apprehensively.

"Mark's home," he whispered.

"Who's Mark?"

"He lives across from me," Porter pulled the door open one more time, just enough to see a sliver of the landing. "Come on." He led me out, and we raced across the kitchenette as fast as we could, reaching the safety of his room just as footsteps sounded behind us.

I pulled the door closed before Mark could wander out into the common area and catch us naked. Holding my breath, I leaned up against the wall. It felt like we were kids, sneaking around his parents' house.

"I can't believe you have to share a bathroom with five other people," I laughed. "We have to get you a better apartment."

He smiled, but I could see something uneasy pass behind his eyes. I had crossed a line I shouldn't have crossed. It wasn't my place to tell him where he should live, and my use of the word "we" indicated I assumed I would be a part of his future. I cursed myself silently for the infraction.

"I didn't mean anything by that," I tried awkwardly.

He shook his head as if it didn't matter. He pulled the towel off, revealing himself again, and walked to the dresser. Inside, he found a clean pair of boxers and an oversized T-shirt. Climbing into the shorts, he handed the shirt to me. I thanked him with a smile, understanding instantly what it meant: he wanted me to spend the night.

I dressed in the impromptu nightshirt and sat down on the bed. "Where are we gonna eat?"

"Here." He opened the closet to reveal a small dorm fridge and pulled out three bananas and a jar of almonds from the depths. Porter continued to unpack until a feast of nibbles lay on the sheets beside me. He pulled out two bottled waters and handed one over. "We've got fruit and nuts, crackers, and I've got a package of muffins."

"It looks delicious," I said happily.

It was funny what passed for food in different people's houses. At my own apartment, I had a refrigerator dedicated to vegetables and leftovers. I preferred to cook for myself, though I didn't spend a lot of time in the kitchen. My favorite dish was angel hair pasta with spaghetti sauce, but that was a treat, so I didn't have it often. Porter, I could see, was unaccustomed to stocking his apartment with food. Understandably, he didn't want to venture back out to the common area or store his own dinner in the common fridge. We sat munching on his stash of healthy foods, until my belly was full, and my soul revived.

"What do you do for fun here?" I asked, just to make conversation.

"Nothing." He shifted, picking up an almond. "I used to get high or drunk and go around looking for trouble. Now… I just work."

"You don't have a TV," I observed. "Do you have a phone or a computer?"

"I have a phone," he said, "I finally got minutes added, so I can surf the web. But I can't stream anything."

"Sounds boring."

"I suppose I could invite a girl over," he teased.

"That might make things more interesting," I admitted.

"It would have to be the right girl." He hesitated. "Because I wouldn't want someone who was all into a guy's car and his job and everything."

"That type of girl might want a mansion," I replied, stealing a nut from his pile.

"Hey." He circled his stash protectively. "Stay on your side of the banquet table."

I couldn't remember a more relaxed evening in my whole life. It seemed like I spent so much time working toward the next big thing. When I was in college, I was hell-bent on graduation; then it was getting a job; then being the best nurse I could be. I didn't think I had ever stopped to just appreciate where I was. It was so comfortable in Porter's room, just the two of us, joking like old friends. We finished our dinner, and he cleaned up.

Afterward, we lay down on the bed side by side, staring up at the ceiling. A week ago, I didn't know I could be so happy. With almost no possessions and a single room, Porter was showing me a world of riches beyond material things. Pretending to be king and queen of his miniature castle, we drifted off, curled against one another.