February 19th
I want you to know that I’m ready
And not just because of last night
I’m ready because I want to take this step with you
Because I trust you
Okay?
COOP
Okay, sweetheart
Come over, I’ve been working on something
I thought my first time was special.
Sure, it was in someone else’s house. We’d both been drinking. But it was everything I wanted it to be, everything I imagined—and it happened with the person I thought I’d be experiencing it with for the rest of my life. I wanted every single moment of it, the awkwardness and the discomfort. Before I realized what he did, I replayed every moment in my mind. I wanted that memory to be as well-worn as an old pair of skates.
Turns out, I didn’t know what special even meant until this very moment.
Cooper and I didn’t join the party again. Instead, he helped me out of my clothes and into some of his, for comfort, and got Tangy from his sister’s bedroom. I cuddled with her while he explained the situation to Sebastian. He snagged some cupcakes while he was down there, and water bottles so we wouldn’t be hungover in the morning. I fell asleep in his arms with a whiskey headache and a stuffy nose from crying, and I didn’t doubt for a second that it was where he wanted to be.
But this? This is magical.
I stop in the doorway to his room and look back at him. “You did this?”
He runs his hand through his hair, ducking his head as he smiles. His hair is a touch longer now, and his beard is too, with the season coming down to the wire. Outside the window, it’s snowing, the sort of fat, wet snowflakes that always make me think of Lucy from The Peanuts. They didn’t cancel class, but I suspect that everyone who went to the party last night used their hangovers as an excuse for a snow day. We had a snowball fight earlier with his siblings, and Izzy and I made a tiny snowman that’s currently hanging out on the front porch. After the heaviness of last night, the day felt as sweet as the hot chocolate Sebastian made for us.
Now, though, we’re alone. He cleaned, changed the sheets, and lit candles along the windowsills. He strung fairy lights over the bed and around the windows. The sight of the low light sends a shiver of heat through me. When we fuck, it’s usually dirty, but he somehow knew—like he knows a lot of things, I’m realizing—that I need sweet for this.
“Is it too cheesy?” he asks.
I lean up and kiss him on the lips. “Nope.”
“Hopefully we don’t set the house on fire.”
“Only with our passion,” I say, just so I can see him cringe. I bite my lower lip as I grin at him. “Too much?”
“Come here, you,” he practically growls, pulling me into his arms and carrying me to the bed. Like usual, he throws me down. I bounce a little, watching as he takes in the sight of me on his bed. The sheets are cool and clean, and I can’t wait to feel them against my bare skin.
I grab my hem to pull off my sweater, but he shakes his head and does it himself. I blink up at him as he fixes my hair after. I’m not about to cry, I did plenty of that last night, but the tender expression on his face is nearly enough to trigger the waterworks. All that quiet, almost bashful tenderness, and it’s for me and me alone.
He tugs off my jeans, then runs his hands down my thighs, kneeling so we’re more-or-less eye level and he can kiss me. I kiss him back, but only for a moment; I’m eager for him to strip down too, so it’s his bare skin I’m feeling. It’s only been a couple days since we last fucked, but it feels like a criminally long time since I’ve seen his tattoos. When I tug on the fabric of his navy pullover sweater, he takes it off, along with his t-shirt, and kicks down his jeans. When he joins me on the bed, we’re just in our underwear, and I relish in the feel of his warm body as he pulls me close. He’s like the Arizona sun at midday in July; I want to bask in his glow.
He kisses the hollow of my throat, then takes the butterfly charm on my necklace into his mouth, sucking on it for a few moments before spitting it out wet. I shiver, bringing my hand up to tangle in his hair. “I turned off my phone and computer,” he says.
Tears prick my eyes. So much for not crying. “Really?”
“It’s just the two of us, Red. I can show you.”
I nuzzle his beard as I shake my head. “I trust you.”
After holding those words to my chest for so long, giving them freely feels strange. But it’s a good strange, and I hope that over time, it feels as normal as breathing instead. From our very first meeting, Cooper has been giving me reasons to trust him. He gave me the biggest one of all last night when he told me he loved me. I haven’t said it back yet; it’s the last step and one that feels far away still, but I can feel myself inching closer. How could I not, when he made this warm cocoon for us to retreat into?
He rolls us onto our sides, stroking a big hand through my hair. “My good, gorgeous girl,” he murmurs. “Talk to me, okay? Tell me what you need.”
“Just you.” I roll my hips against him. He’s halfway to hard, which I can feel. It sends another pleasant shiver through my body. Soon, I’ll feel him deep in my core. I’ve loved everything we’ve done together, but this is what I’ve been craving since the very first time he dropped to his knees and spread my legs for a taste of me.
He sits us up, which is harder than it sounds because I refuse to stop kissing him, and pulls my bralette over my head too. He runs his hand down my front, fondling my breasts before settling it on the waistband of my panties. His touch might be gentle, but the fierceness in his eyes makes my breath stick in my throat.
“This is just as important to me,” he says as he strokes his fingertips over the scrap of fabric. “I want to hear every moan, every whimper, and every time you say my name. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I want to fucking hear it.”
He drags the panties down my legs and tosses them aside, then does the same for his boxer-briefs. He tugs on my leg until I fall against the pillows. He stares right at my tits for a long moment before taking one into his mouth, sucking on it practically whole; he plays with the other one with his callus-rough fingertips.
I buck my hips, seeking contact, and he rewards me by putting his thigh between my leg and grinding it slowly against my already-wet folds. I moan like he wants, and he rewards me by giving my other breast the same treatment, all while his leg moves with slow, delicious friction. It’s nowhere near enough, but he knows that. When he finally finishes his torment, he replaces his leg with his hands, spreading me even wider. I’m exposed for him, every inch of my bare body, but under his heated gaze, I don’t feel anything but desire. No worry, no panic. I feel fucking sexy thanks to Cooper’s low groan and the way he licks his lips. A woman who knows exactly what she wants and is going to get it.
“Want to make sure you’re nice and wet,” he says as he kisses down my belly. He pays extra attention to my birthmark, which gets me blinking back tears again. Good tears. I fist my hand in his hair and tug his head lower.
The first touch of his tongue to my pussy has him moaning. He presses his tongue flat against me, simply breathing in without moving. Then he swirls the tip around my clit, getting close enough my stomach clenches, but easing back at the last moment. I pull on his hair. He huffs out a laugh before he finally sucks on the little bud.
“Brat,” he says, his voice muffled. “Fuck, I’ll never get over how you taste.”
He works a finger into me as he sucks on my clit, and then another, scissoring them. He rubs the tips of his fingers against my g-spot, and I tilt my head back as stars dance at the edges of my vision. He takes pity on me, continuing to work that spot until I come with his name on my lips. He doesn’t give me a breather, even when I tremble with oversensitivity; a third finger works me from the inside as he keeps playing with my clit.
“Cooper,” I whine. “More.”
“What, my fingers aren’t thick enough for you?”
I dig my heel into his back. “Please, babe. I don’t want to wait anymore.”
He finally pulls away, his lips shiny with my slick and his pupils blown wide. He pulls out his fingers, and I feel the ache of the loss immediately. Usually, at this point, he’d grab a toy to fuck me with, but not now. Instead, he grabs a condom from the nightstand and rips it open with his teeth.
I sit up, reaching for his cock. He’s all the way hard now—I’ll never get over how turned on he gets when he eats me out—and groans the moment my hand wraps around his cock. A toy is nice, sure, but his cock is warm and stiff, and his skin is like velvet. He’s so thick and long that he’ll fill me better than any toy, even the expensive one he bought me, ever could. I’m well-practiced, but I’ll feel the stretch, the same way I do when he’s fucking my ass and thrusts in all the way. I rub my thumb over the tip, spreading pre-come around, and use my other hand to fondle his balls. They’re hanging heavy, no doubt aching.
I help him roll the condom on. The moment we’re finished, he pulls me into a deep kiss, licking into my mouth. I can still taste the remnants of hot chocolate on his tongue. His scent, thank God, is clean and cool and nothing like Tropic Blue. He strokes the side of my face tenderly as he pulls away. He blinks his beautiful blue eyes, made darker with desire, and runs his thumb over my bottom lip.
“You still good?” he asks. “Still with me?”
I just nod, arrested by the intensity in his voice. He kisses me one more time, like he can’t help it, and then pushes me against the bed. I spread my legs as he settles between them. He takes his cock in hand, giving it one last stroke—and then, while looking at me, pushes in, inch by inexorable inch.
He’s trembling from the effort not to go too fast. I grip his arm, arching my back as I take him. It’s a tight fit, but that just makes it even more delicious; I can feel him so deep, I swear he’s filling me completely.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck, baby girl, it’s like you were made just for me.”
I hook my leg around his hip and urge him closer. I want to feel his chest against mine; I want to kiss while he fucks into me with deep thrusts. I want to have been made for him—him and no one else. He gets the hint, pressing his forehead to mine as he thrusts. We breathe into each other’s mouths, temple to temple, as he pushes in deeper than before. He presses a bruising kiss to my lips as he thrusts again, faster this time. I clench around him, and he practically chokes out a moan, his hips stuttering before he regains his rhythm.
I tease him like that a couple times, and he retaliates by pulling out nearly all the way. I beg for him to press back in, and he does, but only after he digs his nails into my thigh hard enough that I cry out.
Once he starts fucking me hard, he doesn’t let up. We’re both laughing and kissing and grabbing at each other tightly, and the joy and relief of it feels like a balm on my soul. He comes while pressed deep inside me, his thrusts erratic and yet just as delicious. His fingers find my clit and drag me right over the edge with him. After, he flops on top of me like a big, warm, athletic blanket, and I pet his hair as he mouths at my tits lazily.
I could do this for eternity and still not have my fill of it, and judging by the way he moans my name, he feels the same way.
