Chasing Shade. Sommer Marsden
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spoken to from behind closed doors in the middle of the night, Betsey let out a startled squeal and speckled the mirror with toothpaste.
‘Jesus,’ she whispered, clutching her chest. ‘I was talking to myself,’ she whispered, pulling the door open.
‘Why are we whispering?’ he whispered back.
She studied his bare chest and his jeans. ‘So we can go back to sleep easier. Jeans?’
‘No drawers underneath.’ He grinned.
‘Oh. Need the bathroom?’ She blushed and hurried past him. ‘I’ll leave the light on so you don’t kill yourself.’
Betsey turned the overhead light on so he could see. She crawled back into bed, feeling the ghost of his body heat. It was odd and thrilling to hear another person moving around the small space. It felt somehow cosy. Safer.
When she heard him coming down the hall her heart picked up speed. He cracked the door open and stuck his head in. ‘OK for me to come in?’
She giggled. It was a nervous sound. Betsey rarely giggled. Ever. ‘Of course. I’m not kicking you out at –’ she glanced at the clock ‘– two o’clock because you had to pee.’
‘I can, though, Betsey, if you need me to.’ He stood there in the doorway watching her. There was interest in that gaze. Attraction if she wasn’t mistaken. But also unsureness and worry. He was a nice guy, wanting to be nice to her. To give her what she needed.
‘I don’t need you to. It’s fine.’ Her eyes skated along his body, studying him. Broad shoulders, a few freckles there. Nice pecs, a lovely flat, slightly ridged belly. Trim hips. Lean, long legs. Her heart flared and banged. Her breath came faster and she shook her head.
What she needed…
‘What I need,’ she said softly.
He cocked his head. Watched her. Waiting.
When she didn’t speak he said, ‘Yes?’
‘I was just thinking you look like a guy willing to walk home in the freezing dark if that’s what I need.’
‘Yes,’ he confirmed. ‘Whatever you need, Betsey.’
She held out her hand. ‘Whatever I need.’ She said it like a mantra.
He looked a little bewildered until she curled her fingers to him. ‘Well, come on then. If you mean it, Archie.’
He nodded. Said nothing. His blue eyes had turned a stormy grey in the harsh yellow light from her overhead.
‘I need you,’ she whispered. ‘If you can manage that. I mean, if you…want me too.’
He moved towards her and only stopped when she whispered, ‘Hit those lights.’
He did and his weight dipped her bed – a bed that usually only held her – and she found herself in his arms again. And he was kissing her.
God, she felt good. She felt so good. She wasn’t even naked yet and Archie marvelled at the softness of her. The yielding nature of her body beneath his. She stopped kissing him only briefly to mutter, ‘Archie’ and then she pulled off her T-shirt. His hands and hers warred to push her panties down. Yellow, he noted bizarrely.
‘I’m on the pill,’ she murmured. ‘And clean. It’s been…ages. Ages,’ she repeated, eyeing him. ‘But I have –’
He waved it off and touched her. Stroked his finger from her collar bone to her belly button. He watched mesmerised as her skin pebbled swiftly into goosebumps. Just from him touching her.
‘It’s been ages for me too. And I’m clean. As a whistle.’ He laughed softly. Moving in to kiss her where his finger had just been. She smelled so good and yet there was no discernible scent or perfume he could identify. It seemed to be simply the smell of Betsey. ‘But it’s up to you,’ he said, reaching her hipbones. He kissed her there, watched her jump a little. ‘Whatever you want, Betsey. Whatever you need.’
She put her hands on his head as he kissed lower. Said nothing. Only a small whimper escaped her when he kissed lower than her hipbones and parted her thighs with his hands. Archie could feel her energy – chaotic and wanting – and it was a heady mix. She arched up slightly only to realise she’d done it and then force herself down.
He shook his head, whispered, ‘Don’t do that. Don’t correct yourself.’
Her body rose up again, barely noticeable unless you were paying attention, and he slipped his hands beneath her ass, kissed over her neatly clipped mound.
Betsey moaned. Her breath catching. Her entire body seemed to want to toss and writhe but she stifled it, her fingers threading through his hair.
He parted her with his tongue, inhaled the scent of her. Archie played his tongue across her slick folds and finally, finally, managed to swipe his tongue roughly across her clit. The fingers in his hair tightened almost painfully. He inhaled but kept going. Sucking and licking her until her hips moved with need. She said his name again and something in his chest seemed to grow.
She was trying to pull him up, probably to move it along. He almost smiled. It seemed very Betseyish to want to take the focus off herself and move it to them together. He pressed his hands against the tops of her thighs, stilling her. Then he whispered, his mouth pressed to her inner thigh where the skin was insanely soft.
‘Shh, Betsey. Let me do this. Let me have this,’ he said to show her it was what he wanted. What he was doing was just as much for him as for her. He could still taste her on his tongue so before she could answer in any way, beyond her fingers loosening in his hair and stroking, he went back to licking her. She was sweet and musky and utterly perfect.
His cock ached and he ground it against the bed to tame the urge to bury himself inside her. Not just yet. He wanted her to come. Not just come. He wanted her to come undone. Her juices coated his chin and he buried his tongue deep in her pussy before moving back to flick at her clitoris with just the tip.
‘Archie,’ she said again, more heat in her voice this time. More tension. She was close. And wet. God, so fucking wet. Archie drove his fingers inside her, moved them against that suede knot of flesh he knew would bring her the most pleasure. All the while moving his tongue over her, tasting her, giving her everything he could.
Everything she needed.
Betsey came with a cry stifled by her fist. She shoved it hard against her lips even as her body moved up to greet him. A shudder passed through her and Archie watched her move. Beautiful, restless, striking – until the spasm finally settled and she lay there relaxed and wanton.
She held her hand out to him and he took it, moving up her body. Feeling the kiss of silken skin against his as he came chest to breast with her. The heat of her – of them together – was staggering. Archie kissed her and she wrapped her legs around him, her wetness pressing against his cock, welcoming.
It was like coming home, he thought fleetingly. But he didn’t settle on the thought, and let it drift away.
‘Hurry,’ Betsey said. She felt an urgency now. Now that he’d been touching her. Kissing her. Making her come.
‘I don’t want to hurry,’ he said into her ear, moving his body against hers, grinding his cock against her pelvis. Betsey could tell even in the gloom of her darkened room that he was smiling. Ambient light from the trailer park’s street lamps told her she was right. When he looked down at her he was a work of dark and light. Most of his face hidden by shadows but his smile evident.
‘I don’t want to hurry either,’ she tried to explain. She felt as if she were failing miserably. ‘But I…’ She shook her head. Feeling powerless to explain well.