face.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious, moving to cover her breasts with her arms.
“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head and smiling. “I’ve just never seen you in the light before like this. You’re… beautiful.”
“Stop it.” She swatted at him, rolling her eyes.
Clay unbuckled his belt, then unzipped his jeans, sliding them down his hips. Erica reached out and grabbed the elastic edge of his boxers, stretching them out until they were taut, forcing him to lean into her.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, their eyes locked. Clay leaned in and captured her mouth, exploring the soft recesses of hers with his tongue. When they parted, Erica sighed, shaking her head. “That’s not where I wanted you to kiss me.”
He grinned, moving down her body, unable to resist stopping at her breasts again, sucking her nipples hard and leaving them that way before heading south, pulling her panties down. Erica found herself more than ready for him, annoyed with the teasing licks and gentle kisses.
“What are you doing?” she cried, half-sitting to look at his big, surprised eyes appearing over her mound.
Clay blinked. “I was savoring the brownie.”
Erica looked at him and then cracked up. “Let’s skip to Tootsie Pop.”
“Yes, Ma’am!”
“And don’t call me ma’am.”
Once Clay focused, Erica found herself taken away. No longer having to chase her climax, she let her knees fall open, threw her arms over her head, and enjoyed the roller coaster ride. Clay fully made up for in enthusiasm what he lacked in actual skill, and all she had to do was close her eyes and remember the look on his face the first time he came in her mouth, the feel of his thighs tightening, the hot, rhythmic pulse of him as he flooded her tongue with his seed, and she pushed herself over the edge, of course, not without the help of Clay’s mouth and tongue, working furiously between her quivering thighs.
“Oh I like that,” Clay breathed, kissing that button, making her shiver and cry out at the sensation. “More? Can you do that again?”
“Not yet,” she panted, covering her mound with her hand. “So, do you want my mouth or….” She parted her labia with her fingers, giving him a glimpse of wet, glistening pink.
“Oh God, Erica,” he groaned, his gaze focused between her legs. “You are so beautiful right here. So fucking beautiful. It’s like looking at the stars or the moon or something you couldn’t ever describe to anyone even if you tried, it’s everything, it’s like God, right here, between your legs.”
Erica blinked at his sudden soliloquy and then laughed. “Come here. I want you inside me.”
He crawled up to kiss her, and she tasted herself, just like she had before, sucking at his tongue as she rolled him into his back and straddled him.
“Oh wow.” He grabbed onto her hips, looking up at her in wonder. “I don’t know which is better, my view, or the fact that I’m not sticking to the backseat of my car right now.”
“Yeah, sex in a bed is better,” she admitted, rocking her wetness on him, slick, up and down her slit. Then she tilted her hips and in one easy motion, she slid down onto him, all the way down to the root.
Clay let out a pent-up breath, watching her as she began to ride him, rocking into the saddle of his hips like riding a horse, catching a rhythm and then squeezing him between her thighs, going just a little faster. He bit his lip, trying to hold onto her grinding hips, his eyes closing, then opening, then closing again, unable to focus.
“Are you close?” Erica whispered and he nodded, his breath coming fast. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
He did, blinking as she rocked on top of him, faster, faster.
“Look,” she murmured, leaning back just a little, showing him, giving him a clear view of himself buried inside of her pink cavern, the swollen lips of her labia hugging his length.
“Oh Erica!” he cried, the sight of them together like that clearly too much-she’d done him in, and she knew it, rolling her hips in circles to finish him off, feeling him writhe and shudder and thrust as she milked every last bit of his orgasm with the tight, contracting muscles of her sex.
Erica collapsed on top of him, smiling at the way he touched her, even now after it was all over, he kept his hands moving, stroking her shoulders, her back, her sides, making her shiver with delight.
“Do you smell something burning?” she asked, sniffing the air.
“You’re just catching a whiff of how hot you are,” Clay joked, eyes still closed.
“I’m serious. I smell…” Her eyes flew open. “The coffee!”
She bolted to the kitchen, yanking the percolator off the stove and tossing it into the sink, turning on the water. It hit the hot pot with a hiss and steam rose from the sink as she turned off the burner. Clay came wandering in wearing just his boxers, standing there, staring at her naked in front of the stove.
“I promised I wouldn’t burn the place down.” Erica glared at the percolator like it was all its fault as she turned off the water in the sink.
“Well, disaster averted.” He came over and looked into the sink, picking up the percolator and opening the lid, peering inside. “Black as sin in there. I think you’re going to need another pot.”
Erica peeked into it and frowned. “Great.”
She took his hand and he left the burnt coffee pot on the counter, following her through the living room. “Oh, hey!” She perked up, pointing to the rows of boxes-wedding presents-stacked against the wall that had been arriving over the past few days. The delivery boy from Hudson’s was making out like a bandit in tips. “I bet there’s another percolator in there somewhere. Whew. I’ll go through them later and find it. No one will ever know.”
They went back to her room and Erica pulled on a t-shirt, much to Clay’s disappointment, which he vehemently expressed, but she complained of cold, so he relented.
“Well, we might be low on coffee but…” Clay held up the paper bag. “We have donuts!”
Erica snatched it, opening the bag and fishing out a powdered one, taking a big bite and tossing him the bag.
“I kind of like you all messy with white stuff all over your face,” he remarked, watching her lick her fingers.
They each ate two donuts and then crawled into bed, bellies full, utterly satisfied. They talked about school, which started back up tomorrow for the both of them. They talked about what they wanted to be when they grew up, which involved writing for both of them, but Erica wanted to go into broadcast media, while Clay wanted to be a “newspaper man”-whatever that was. They talked and talked, and Erica was sure they slept, at least a little while.
When she opened her eyes, the light in the room had changed, the shadows different, and Clay was wedged between her legs, hugging her thigh, his cheek resting there.
“Can I ask what you’re doing?”
“Just admiring the view.” He smiled. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
She ran a hand through his hair. “Anything.”
“This scar.” He ran a finger across her lower belly. “What really happened?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
He raised his eyebrows, just looking at her, staring her down.
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Once upon a time there was a couple who couldn’t have children…”
She started it like a fairy tale, and that’s how she told it. There was an evil priest villain and an evil witch social worker, and twin sister heroines, and in the end, Erica found herself telling him everything, absolutely everything from the beginning, her own beginning as a twin in the womb with Leah to Father Michael’s revelations about his parentage and Father Patrick’s sick and twisted crimes.
He didn’t interrupt her. He didn’t ask questions.
He just listened until she ran out of words.
“Say something,” Erica whispered finally, unable to stand the silence one minute more.
Clay lifted his face and she saw the tears on his cheeks. “I love you, Erica. You are the most beautiful, special, precious human being I’ve ever met. I don’t care if you don’t love me and I don’t care if we never see each other again, I will remember you for as long as I live.”
Erica blinked back her own tears, swallowing around the lump in her throat. She had told the story in such a
