His fingers toyed at the waistband of my shorts playfully before diving underneath to stroke the skin. I found myself wanting his hand to travel further, wanting his fingers to toy with me rather than the waistband. I didn’t have a ton of experience, and part of that had always ashamed me. It had always felt like a disadvantage to make it to twenty-six years old with only one crappy sexual experience to count, but it didn’t feel that way anymore.
This man and place were right. I wasn’t fully convinced about the timing, but the more he did and the closer he got to my sex, the more I came around to that thinking.
His lips came back to mine at the exact moment his fingers found my clit, and the combination made me feel like I’d go blind.
Stars and blackness alternated behind my lids at random, and the caress of his tongue on mine made the time needed comically short.
With a moan I hadn’t known was possible, I came apart just as one of his long fingers settled inside me. It didn’t feel invasive or foreign. It felt welcome.
And my body reacted accordingly. Sucking and milking it in an effort to pull it deeper, my sex sought to keep his finger there, probably forever if possible, and clenched at the girth of it with release. Fire burned through my body and all voluntary function ceased to exist. Only Nik and my pleasure could change the way I acted in that moment.
“God, Cal,” he breathed into the skin at my neck, tucking his face there and inhaling my scent. His body shook on top of mine and his hand made no effort to retreat.
When my hands found the will to move again, I put them to his back, scooting his t-shirt up and smoothing them over his slick skin in an effort to get closer.
I cringed at the rough and ragged feel of my touch, immediately withdrawing my hands in embarrassment.
He noticed the retreat and made an accompanying one of his own, but only as to position himself so he could see my face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Callie,” he protested, putting one gentle finger to the curve of my chin.
“Something changed. What is it? Did I make you uncomfortable—” he surveyed with worry, breaking me nearly immediately with guilt.
“No. Nik, it’s not that. I…that was wonderful.” I closed my eyes tight against the shame before opening them to my admission at once. “It’s just my hands.”
“Your hands?”
I searched for the words to explain, and he waited patiently until they formed. “I’ve been fighting for this. Fighting and clawing and scratching for nearly my entire life.”
He nodded along, confirming that he’d followed me along my nonsensical path from hands to gymnastics. The best part was that he wasn’t just appeasing me. It seemed to make sense to him too. I lifted one hand in front of our faces and studied it.
“And sometimes I feel like all I have to show for it are these battered hands.”
“Your hands aren’t battered,” he denied in a whisper.
“They’re not?”
He shook his head and reached out to rub his thumb over the brutalized skin of my rips.
“They’re beautiful.” His eyes left the motion of this caress and lifted to meet mine. “Mental and physical toughness. Determination. Dedication. Hard work. Someone I want to know. Those are the things your hands say to me.”
Drugged on the high of my night with Nik, I didn’t think about what would be waiting for me at home after I dropped him back at the gym to get his motorcycle, gave him one last kiss, and headed there.
I moved with the invincible mindset of a teenager for the first time, and it had only taken me seven extra years to get there.
The time was late but not obscene at a quarter past ten, and the lights were largely extinguished on the interior of our house as I pulled in the driveway.
I guess that’s why the harsh sound of my father’s voice calling out to me as I walked in the door nearly sent me into cardiac arrest.
“Where’ve you been, Calia?”
The question itself was preposterous for a twenty-six year old woman to have to answer without protest, but I understood the concept of respect. I’d stormed out of the gym without thought or explanation early that day—something that was highly unlike me—and disappeared without a reachable trace for nearly the rest of the day. He had a right to ask as a concerned loved one whether I thought he was in the position to be fatherly or not.
I tried for vague, knowing I absolutely couldn’t go with the truth. “I just needed to clear my head.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on with Nik?”
My chest seized and I nearly ingested my tongue. A couple of forced, rough swallows made it possible to speak again.
“We fought,” I admitted, largely leaving out the details and hoping he’d take it at face value.
He shook his head in exasperation. “What else is new?”
“I apologized.”
Understatement.
“Well, that’s definitely different.”
I fought the instinct to roll my eyes. Now was not the time to egg my father on and instigate more questions than necessary. Now was the time to contain the blast and get out with minimal damage.
“I drove him home since he’s only got the motorcycle and the rain was so bad.” I gestured gallantly outside for added effect. Cleared my throat. “I think one of his friends was going to run him back later to get his motorcycle or something. Then I just drove around for a while to visualize my routines and get back in the right mindset.”
Unbelievably, he nodded with approval, and I sighed a huge breath of relief. I hadn’t been too bad at lying for not having tried my hand at it much in the past. I wasn’t sure that was a good thing, but tonight, I was thankful. I’d sell my soul to just about any devil to keep my night with Nik, and this was a small price to pay comparatively.
Tonight had been happiness, fulfillment, and fantasy.
Tonight had been—
Harmony.
I could hear it, I could feel it, we were it today. As poorly as yesterday had gone in the gym, today had gone equally, but well. The intensity and passion were largely the same, but the vibe behind them was shockingly positive.
I’d half expected her to retreat into her shell after last night, but instead she shone from the inside out.
It was one of the best things I’d ever seen.
Her toes pointed with extra flex and her arms extended even taller over the top of her head. Her eyes were shiny with amusement, and the curve of her lips made her that much more enjoyable to watch.
Having just finished the second tumbling pass in her floor routine—a tumbling pass in which she very much pushed all the way through her toes and into the floor like an explosion—she gave me a sly look of mischief and mystery that had my heart beating faster.
She was flirting with me as she worked, using each movement to remind me of an intimate encounter that had been beyond all of my wildest dreams. She’d been sensational last night, preening and succumbing to all of my ministrations without inhibition. Her body moved with just as much fluidity now, dancing from one skill to the next with precision and beauty that vibrated out from her body and encompassed the large room.
I could feel the eyes of everyone else, pulled in to her routine by her talent alone. I watched for that and more.
Careful to keep my leering to a fairly discreet minimum, I harnessed my focus and straightened my coaching hat. There was a time to watch her body, her reactions to my touch, and the way her breath left her mouth in her most pleasure filled moments.