Info - fingering, friends to lovers, pda, a little sex, getting caught in heavy make out, tasting pussy juice, finger sucking
I popped a cherry into my mouth and noted how Timothée looked at my lips. The air was thick, though humidity was low. My ponytail brushed my shoulder as I turned to grab another piece of fruit.
I felt a tentative hand on my bare ankle. I pretended I didn't notice. His thumb moved slowly over my skin.
Since winter, things had been very different. Timothée and I had been friends forever, but in December he'd become single again. On new years, he'd decided that we would kiss to usher it in. At that moment, everything had changed.
His moustache was gone, and his hair was now fluffy and tousled like it used to be. He'd been home spending time with his niece for a while. He hadn't taken a new project for a while and I wished desperately that even a little of it was for me.
We'd reconnected in a heavy way. We spent days and nights together. He seemed to always be inviting me over. We shared bottles of wine and late night confessions. The alcohol always had us falling over each other with giggles. Then we'd take a moment and stare into the others eyes. Our friendship wore thin as one of us would inevitably push a lock of their out of the others face.
That was how we had lived for months. We'd walked that edge of the precipice so many times. I wondered if we were both waiting on the other to make the final move. I wondered if he'd find me less desirable if I broke first. I wondered what was taking so damn long.
"Would you rather," he mused, picking up the game again.
We were having a picnic in the park. I wore a new sundress that he had barely removed his eyes from the entire afternoon. He was in jeans and over sized t-shirt. The sun had finally begun to warm New York City and he'd eagerly called me, begging for a picnic lunch in the fresh air.
"Kiss someone, or hug someone?"
"It depends," I said, tilting my head to the side.
"Oh?" He asked as his fingers drummed on my leg. I wanted to pounce on him.
"Hugs are almost always good, kisses are only good with some people," I shrugged. I threw a blackberry in my mouth now.
"Yeah?" He asked.
"What makes someone the right person?" Timothée asked in a dangerous voice. I gulped and looked up to meet his gaze.
"Someone who is kind, sexy, matches your energy, knows you well, cares for you the correct way..." I trailed off. I felt a burning between my legs even though this was just a conversation about kissing. He always launched me into neediness so easily.
"And am I-" he sucked in a deep breath. If he was breathing harder, I wasn't breathing at all. He was preparing, I could tell. He was closer to that precipice than he'd ever been. He was going to jump.
"Am I the right sort of person?" He whispered.
I leaned back on my elbows. Ever so slightly, I spread my legs. His grip became tighter on my ankle. His eyes darkened and he watched me as if I were stripping instead of leaning back casually.
"Yes," was all I breathed.
He lurched forward, a desperate hunger in his eyes. My back hit our fuzzy blanket. His mouth was glued to mine. His large hands held my face. I was hot all over as our tongues danced together. I couldn't have cared less who would see us.
His hand moved to my thigh and went up, lifting up my dress. I gasped into his mouth.
"I love you, fuck I love you, I've wanted this so long," he heaved, he was panting as he grabbed at every bit of my skin. My leg wrapped around him. I pressed myself into the feeling of him, memorising it.
"I want you, I need you," I repeated myself over and over. He mouthed over my neck. His long fingers crawled to my pink panties.
"Shit!" He sucked in a breath when he felt my wetness.
"You're perfect, I can't breathe, I don't want to," he told me. I was keening and arching as his deft fingers plunged into me. He curled them in my wet heat.
"You're so pretty in this dress. I can't keep my eyes off you," he whispered, kissing the hot skin of my clavicle.
I loved how he worshipped and praised me, as if he hadn't been around a million celebrities. He could see me as less or not be interested at all. Yet, he touched me like one would touch a deity. I was in heaven.
"Mmmmm," Timothée moaned as he lifted his digits to his mouth. His fingers were so slick. I watched him mesmerized by the beauty.
"Baby, you've got to taste yourself. Come on pretty girl, it's ambrosia," he coaxed. He looked love sick and hazy. He smiled dreamily as his finger were sucked by my needy mouth.
"Atta girl," he whispered. He was kissing me again now. My bottom half was almost completely bare. The grass was on my ass and my dress was hitched up around my waist. Timothée's hands dipped into the cups of my bra. He massaged as he kissed me and kissed me and kissed me.
"What are you two doing," asked a harsh voice. A park ranger took in our heady gazes and the tent in Timmy's pants, and the way I was scantily clad.
"Get up!" He snapped gruffly.
Timothée had Trouble moving from his hard on. He was pulling me along desperately. He'd left behind the blanket, the lunch, all in an effort to get to his car.
He whips open the door and pulls me on top of him in almost one movement. Out kisses are sloppy and hot. His hands are up my dress again. I could hardly catch a breath.
"Fuck me, there will be pictures everywhere," he said, but he didn't sound like he actually cared that much.
"Fuck that," I giggled as I nipped at his lip.
"Fuck me," he moaned, a request.
"Absolutely," I agreed. I pushed my panties to the side and he pulled out his cock. I sunk down and settled into the place I was meant to be.
"My girl," he groaned as I began to bounce and he began to thrust.
"My girl forever."
