Write Me A Love Story

17: 🔥

The moment the word left my lips, Reece gently held my hips. With soft, caring fingers, he pulled my pants down, lifting me by my ass to get them off—one leg at a time. He gripped the fabric before looking at either side of the bed. "Hamper?" he asked.

I gulped. Laying in front of him in my red underwear, I felt open and exposed. But not in a bad way. I was anxious and ready for what he might do. So much so, that I couldn't process what he asked. "What?" I breathed.

He smirked. "It's fine." He tossed my pants on the floor. "We can pick that up later."

What person, in the heat of a moment, thinks of cleanliness? I appreciated it. But also, if he wanted to rip my clothes off and throw them around the room, I wouldn't stop him either.

Reece's hands slid up my waist. He was gentle until he passed my ribs, just under my breasts. He pressed, fingers pushing into my skin, massaging. "Do you like anything special?" he whispered.

I lifted my hands above my head. My shirt slightly raised with it. With my breasts still covered and his warm hands on me, the room's air did nothing. I was shivering, but I knew he was the reason.

"I don't know." Again, honesty. I'd never had good sexual experiences, so apart from the usual 'he got his and I'm unsatisfied,' what did I know about special?

Reece smirked, licked his bottom lip, and let his hands slide back down my body. "Can I say I'm honored?" he said, dark eyes peering at me as his thumb brushed over my panties.

Instantly, I arched and gasped. The electricity and spark I felt from just one touch were wild. He didn't even do anything.

Was he honored because he'd be the first to give me an experience? The one to show me how wonderful this could be; to give me something special.

He pressed, softly rotating his finger, and I cried out. My hands fisted the sheets. When he turned the other way, and the friction brought a burning, a yearning, swelling between my legs, my mouth hung open with a long, silent moan.

"Well, well, well." Cocking a brow, Reece grinned at me before focusing on my underwear. He rubbed his hands over my hips again, then hooked his finger around the fabric and moved it aside.

He wasn't going to take it off. This was happening. What was this? This sexual care. The look in his eyes—dark, desiring, hungry—wasn't the usual lust people talked about. This was... something else. Something more.

He saw me and cared about me. And I felt it from his gaze.

"Imm'a need you to do something for me," he whispered.

My hands loosened. The sheets relaxed under my head. And my brows shot up high. "Yeah?" I breathed.

"Relax." There was no warning, not that he needed to say anything. I knew what was coming. I just didn't know when.

It was like I blinked and the emptiness within my lower belly was filled by the slow entrance of two fingers. I gasped, arched, and tried to relax like he said. But how could I?

He did it slowly. And on purpose. Each smooth thrust from his hand had my body on fire. And after three seconds, I was whimpering.

I pressed my hands over my face. "Reece," I breathed against my palm.

"Don't." Leaning over my body, Reece used his other hand to grab mine. He moved them away from my face and placed them over my head. With his fingers still moving, I never felt so small, so delicate, and willing. "Let me see you," he said.

Okay. This was fine. No, more than fine. This was perfect. This was new. And so were my reactions.

My trembling breath deepened as I focused on his gaze. He looked at me like I was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.