Her fingers nervously grazed over the elastic of my boxers, unsure of how to carry out her coming actions.
I knew fully well that this wasn't her trying to solve my problems with sex. This wasn't me trying to take advantage of her inexperience.
Something warm expanded in my chest with her words. It was the feeling of being wanted, praised, appreciated by the only person who has been able to put up with my incompetence.
The only person that managed to make me feel the way I am now. My stomach twisting to form a knot that wasn't going to be untangled, and my breath hitching in my throat as her fingers hooked into the band of my Calvin Klein's.
___________________
I watched with heavy eyes and a dry throat as Harry's chest heaved above me.
I really had no notion as to how to go about this. The only idea I had was when I found one of my brother's erotica tapes underneath his bed when I was fifteen. I watched a scene, and it confused me how a woman was able to please a man in such a way.
I never had gotten to this level of intimacy, not even with Jake. Every hint or attempt I made to try, he either ignored me or changed the subject. After I blew up and asked him the reason why, he simply told me it was unnecessary, and quite frankly, disgusting. I never brought it up again after that.
But now, I'm settled between Harry's legs, and based on his breath that's coming out in ragged puffs along with his full blown pupils staring down at me, there's an atmosphere of want and need and passion and so many other aspects of our relationship that I've never had with anyone else. It was the fact that our connection wasn't built off of just sex; it had a foundation of endearment. Assurance. No judgement. That constant fervor being reciprocated between both of us.
Even as I'm shakily removing his boxers from his hips, there's still a surefire certainty.
His pelvis raised up off the bed, my hands bringing them down his legs. I heard him suck in a sharp breath between his teeth.
I swallowed hard as I witnessed the twitch of his increasingly hard length resting against his abdomen. I nervously gripped the base, gently tracing my palm up and down, eliciting a quiet moan and a slight buck of the hips. I glanced up to his face, seeing his bubblegum pink lips part and eyebrows screwed together above hooded eyelids.
I took a small kitten lick at the underside of the head, a salty tang against the tip of my tongue. Soft sounds emitted from him while I repeated the action, my curiosity getting the better of me. I then leisurely ran my tongue flat against the protruding vein, receiving an audible moan.
Harry was a writhing mess above me, and I suddenly felt an arousing sense of confidence. Usually it would be the other way around; my fingers clenching at the sheets, flailing and moaning and squirming. Watching the tables turn gave me an odd brim of self-possession. I was snapped out of my thoughts when Harry's pitted, labored voice rang out in the room.
"Ella, I need..." he gasped. "Your m..."
I blinked, unable to put together his isolated sentences. I took a moment to appreciate that this was my doing. He couldn't form coherent sentences because of my actions, and I hadn't done much. I held back a prideful smirk.
"Mouth," he breathed heavily. "Mouth, I need your mouth. P-Please." His tongue ran over his swollen lips in a desperate effort to compose himself.
I shyly nodded, nervously taking the tip between my lips, lapping at the head. A harsh groan filled the quietness of the room. I felt something swirl in my stomach at the sound, the sensation shooting directly to my core.
