The Thing About Flip Flops

Chapter Forty - Beautiful.

*DISCLAIMER: This chapter contains sexual content - only read if you're comfortable!

When we arrive back at his place, he walks me back to his bed, one step at a time, our lips locked. I'm still in my dress from our date, the blue number with spaghetti straps.

I fall backwards onto his bed, the sheets tucked in the the blanket fuzzy beneath my body. He's not slow to follow me, kissing my cheek sweetly before connecting our lips again.

It's a musical number, this tangle of teeth and tongues and lips, and I can feel the beat in his pounding heart that's pressed up against mine. I hear the melody in his breaths, shorter and shorter as he kisses me.

He pulls back, panting. "You're so fucking beautiful." His forehead rests against mine as we catch our breaths. I smile shyly and say, "So are you."

He pecks my cheek again. "Beautiful," he repeats.

He kisses my nose, "Cute."

He kisses my forehead, a hand toying with my strawberry blond locks. "Gorgeous."

He kisses the spot where my jaw meets my neck and I gasp. "Stunning."

He kisses the center of my throat and I let out a long exhale. "Sexy."

I tangle a hand into his hair, which he doesn't even warn me not to mess up, and bring his mouth to mine. His lips are hot and his hands come up to my jaw. I feel his chest pinning me to the bed, his legs digging into my own, but it's not painful or constricting.

After a few minutes he pulls back suddenly, and I immediately sense why. There's a heavy weight rubbing into my thigh. I gulp.

"Do you-" I ask breathily, not sure exactly what I'm asking him.

"Is this okay?" He asks, gesturing down there, and I nod.

"Yeah," I respond. I kiss him again, hard, fast.

"You want to?" He kisses my neck again, nudging my legs ever so slightly apart.

I sigh into his cheek, saying breathily, "I- I haven't..."

"Me neither," he whispers, "but I have protection in the drawer."

"Please," I manage, and I feel him smile against my neck.

His absence is physically painful in the two seconds it takes for him to stand up and grab a condom from the drawer, and he tears it open with a desperate ferocity. This boy is eager.

"Take your shirt off." I tug at his hem and he's quick to comply, revealing the smooth muscle illuminated by the pale moonlight sifting through his window. He looks like a painting in silvers, a canvas touched by an angelic hand.

He leans over me, hands braced on my legs, pushing my dress up. His fingers are warm as they brush my thighs, and I swear.

My dress is at my stomach now, revealing my underwear. He kisses my belly button, and I shiver.

"Please," I say again, and cradle his head in my hands as he goes down.

That seems to do something for him, because he foregoes all civility at that moment and tugs my underwear down completely, exposing my lower half fully to him. He meets my eyes. I'm blushing, but I don't turn away.

"Beautiful," he whispers, more to himself than to me, as if he can't quite believe any of this, and he gets to business.

It's unforgivable, this heat, these lingering looks into each other's eyes, the breaths that catch between us.

I tell him, "I'm almost there." He breaks off the motion and, breathing heavily, takes the condom from where it sits unwrapped and ready on the bed, and in one agonizing pull, his pants and boxers come down.

He's all hard lines and sharp edges and I need-

"Still okay?" He asks, and I nod out a yes.

He's completely on top of me, mouth on my neck and hands at my waist and legs braced on mine, and the connection roots me to the ground.

He's got the rhythm down to a science, a musician at work. One, two, three, four.

I state at him. I can't think, I can't breathe, all there is in the world is Jacks body pushing into mine, steady and hot and needing.

I break, shivering, and he groans against my chest at the same time. Then he is there too, suspended above me in the moment, dizzy, dazed, beautiful.

The moonlight captures the high flush on his cheeks, and he pulls out carefully, kissing my collarbone and then my cheek again and squeezing my breast with one warm palm.

He falls into bed next to me, naked and shimmering with sweat and ecstasy, and roughly pulls me to him, my back along his chest.

He kisses the back of my hair. I sigh and cuddle into the arm he throws over me, hugging his hand to my face.

"Thank you." He tucks my hair over my shoulder so he can nuzzle his head into the junction of my neck and shoulder.

I push my butt into his lower stomach, teasing, and whisper with an exhausted grin, "You're very welcome."

He moans low and sleepy, "Was it all you hoped and dreamed?" He snickers.

"It was good. Really good," I admit.

"Octopus restaurants are a powerful aphrodisiac." He says and I can feel his laughter even though he's behind me, and it reaches past my maxed out brain to make me scoff in annoyance.

"Shut up." But I'm grinning so hard my face hurts.

"I couldn't keep talking if I wanted to," he admits, and mumbles something unintelligible about being in heaven, and we fall asleep like that, worn out and blissful and so in love it feels like we're the only two people in the world.