Who I Am With You

Chapter 22

Ian lingers at my door after I have unlocked it and opened it part ways. 

"Do you wanna come in?" I offer.   

He doesn't answer. Instead, he runs his hand down my arm until his hand captures mine. He stares down at our hands interlocked, pulling me to him. He wraps his arms around my waist, his breath in my hair. The closeness is tender and raw in a way we've never experienced with one another.  

After a long moment, his mouth meets mine almost desperately. In this instant, it doesn't give me pause that he is Lyndsey's Ian. I realize I was wrong not to reach out to him earlier. He bared his heart to me and I have shown no reciprocation. He needs to know that his trust has been well received.

My arms wind around his neck, sensing his need to feel close to me. I've never seen him vulnerable before. I know he feels that way now. I don't want him to. We stumble through the door tangled together, and begin making a slow journey to my bedroom.

This time means more than the others for us both. It goes beyond the primal drive, the physical desire for sex. It's on an emotional level for us now. Sure, there were emotions involved before, but nothing like this. This is a connection we've never shared up until now.   

He sits on the edge of the bed and removes his shirt. I stand before him and take off my own shirt and jeans. He reaches out and pulls me onto his lap. My hands are in his hair, my mouth fitted to his. The pressure of his fingers on the small of my back send bolts of lightning up my spine to my brain. I push him back so he is laying on the bed, and he does not resist.   

My hair falls over my shoulder as I lean over him, the ends tickle his cheek. I tuck it back behind my ear. I stare at the scar on his side and brush my fingertips down it. He shivers under my touch. I do not retract my hand. I trace the outline from top to bottom. I know where his scars came from. Will I let him learn about mine? Before I can answer that question, his hand curls around the back of my neck, pulling my lips back to his.   .

He kisses me roughly, but lets me dictate the pace. I reach for the top of his jeans and he helps me undo the buttons and slide them off. I run my hand over the front of his boxers, feeling how hard he is. 

"Can I touch you?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. 

He swallows and nods in response, pulling his boxers down. I take him in my hand, and he wraps his own around mine, showing me what to do. I use both hands and watch him fall back against the pillows. I want to make him moan the way he made me the last time. 

"I want to put it in my mouth."

His eyes open and he looks at me. "Fuck, are you sure?"

"I want to." 

I've never given head before, but I have read enough Cosmopolitan to know I can't go wrong if I just treat it like a lollipop. I lick the vein on the underside of his cock from the base to the tip and then take him in my mouth. 

"Fuck, Jamie." 

I am much more comfortable when sex is about Ian and not myself. I swipe my tongue over the head of his cock and look up to find him watching me with lust filled eyes. I bob my head up and down, hollowing my cheeks. Ian pulls up gently on my bra strap, "If you don't stop, I'm going to come and I'm not done with you." 

He flips us so I am under him. I open my legs for him, and guide him inside me. He pins my hands above my head in one of his own, thrusting into me. He can't be close enough, deep enough, to satisfy this need. My heart jolts into overdrive, and my mind races even faster. 

Am I what he needs? Am I enough? Or is the fissure that has cracked across his heart too wide for me to fill? I don't know the answers to these questions. Maybe right now, I am what he needs. Maybe I can be his remedy for a little while longer.