At twenty-three years old, I never thought I'd be playing Twister...much less with a man twenty years my senior. When Sebastian had brought it up, I couldn't believe he was serious. We were just kissing, and suddenly he's up and on his feet, putting the whiskey we'd both partaken in away and suggesting a children's game.
I said 'yes' because I didn't want him to suggest going to bed, because at this point, with how set he was on 'taking things slow', I was sure to be sleeping in his daughter's room instead of his.
No matter what he suggested, no matter how he tried to skirt the overwhelming tension between us, I was losing my virginity tonight. I had decided before the double shot of whiskey that I'd forced down my throat. My old Literature Professor, Sebastian Pennington was going to be my first.
There was no denying why us being together was a bad idea. Not only would it put suspicion on him at work since I had just graduated a few months prior, but he was also a friend of my father.
If Dad found out, he wouldn't hesitate to make Sebastian disappear. He's an Army Ranger and every first date I'd ever had where the boy came to pick me up, Dad was cleaning a rifle with a shovel placed purposefully nearby. He never had any issues letting me know that it was the 'duty' of a father with a pretty daughter to be protective.
Thankfully, he was deployed right now, but there was the worry in the back of my mind that if Sebastian and I became a thing that when he came back all hell would break loose.
The pros and cons of seducing Sebastian were interrupted when I followed him to the living room to set up the game. He began to take off his black dress shirt, the high thread count garment parting to reveal the simple cotton of a white beater. His nimble fingers deftly undid the buttons until a chiseled torso was hinted at.
I'd never seen Sebastian with anything less than a button down on and I couldn't help but to stare at him as he shrugged off the shirt and threw it on the couch, his defined muscles moving beneath his undershirt. He obviously spent time on his physique—and I wanted to explore the fruits of his labor badly.
Once the coffee table and the large ottoman were out of the way and the game was set up, we began. We didn't have a referee, so each of us called out a direction in turn.
Right hand red. Left foot blue. On and on.
On my turn, I saw an opportunity and decided to take it.
"Left hand yellow," I say trying to keep my voice even, and inconspicuous. My arm snakes under him to the farther yellow circle and I end up with my chin on his shoulder.
Damn he smells nice.
Sebastian's tanned skin is beneath my lips as I find myself peppering his shoulder with kisses while he settles his own hand on a yellow spot that won't topple us now that we're intertwined.
"This is fun," I whisper against his shoulder and he shudders. I know it's taking advantage, and I know he's trying to be good but maybe with just a little push...
I crane my neck and lean into him a bit more so I can nibble on his ear lobe. The small bit of skin gets pulled gently and that seems to be the magic action: I get a groan in response.
"Right hand red," he calls out. Poor Sebastian's voice is strained, and he moves immediately to put his hand around my body, to continue what I'm sure he thought was going to be an innocent game.
However, the mixture of my weight against his, and the two large swigs of whiskey he had put him off-kilter. His left arm begins to shake and we both hit the tarp covered carpet.
I squeal in delight. Mostly at the position we'd ended up in, the two of us facing each other, my head on one of Sebastian's large biceps. My head is swimming from the sudden change in position and I'm warmer than I should be for the thin bodycon dress I'm in.
"You're right. This is fun." He kisses the tip of my nose. I flush at the unexpectedly sweet gesture. I'm very fuzzy and his lips tingle, but it's probably the alcohol.
The tarp moves with me as I scoot closer to Sebastian, and his reaction is to roll away onto his back. I'm not letting him get away that easily. I've been staring at this man in class for a year now, aching to feel him touch me, and to be able to touch him. So I scoot closer and throw a leg over his, my face nuzzling into his neck, the action bringing more tingles.
"The alcohol hit you, yet?" My response is a long hum of contentment as the tingles spread from my lips and nose down my body to pool low in my belly.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'," he responds quieter—strained.
I want him. I want the tingles everywhere, so I clumsily push myself on top of him, my torso against his. The tautness of his abs tells me I'm putting him through hell right now, but I'm feeling selfish.
"You're tingly." A giggle erupts from me as I kiss his Adam's apple. It bobs as he swallows, and I'm fascinated by the movement—how fluid it is. "Whenever I touch you, it tingles." I kiss it again.
"I also didn't expect you to be so...chiseled. You always hid under sweaters and blazers in class. I could never tell...you're like a statue," I poke his chest. "I'm feeling the alcohol."
Sebastian laughs, smiling up at me his slightly stained teeth from years of smoking flash at me and I giggle more along with him. His hands slide along my spandex dress making me shiver, and I think just for a second that I've won. That he's going to make love to me and I'm going to finally have a part of him with me forever if this doesn't turn into something more.
My hopes are dashed when he lifts me off him, his head turning from me. I wonder why his gaze is downturned until I realize that my dress has ridden up far enough that apex of my thighs is visible.
"Maybe we should change into pajamas."
What?
I stick out my bottom lip in an exaggerated pout and 'humph'. He's serious about this trying to 'take things slow' thing. We'd spoken briefly at the party I accompanied him to about the two of us dating. The interest was there on both parts, despite the issue of my father, but he said he wanted to do right by me first and foremost.
Whatever that means.
"You'll be more comfortable," Sebastian continues.
"Fine," I sigh and push myself to stand, the plastic beneath me sticking to my knees as I rise.
"Ellie should have something you can wear," I hear as I walk off, already headed in the direction of the stairs that would lead me to his daughter's room. She and I were acquaintances in college, but never really hung out more than a couple times.
I disappear up the stairs and to the dark landing where there are two doors to choose from—the bathroom and Ellie's room. I know I'll be making a trip to both, but I head left into Elli's private space to search for something that I can wear that will be 'more comfortable'.
The dresser's door is left open, probably from her packing to go visit her mother out of state, and it gives me exactly what I need. Different pajama sets, with matching tops and bottoms.
I couldn't even find matching socks, let alone care enough to match my pajamas, but I thought looking put together would only help my case, so I grab from the drawer based off color. And the shiny emerald green fabric in the back is speaking to me.
The set is satin and lace, a tank top and shorts that once I manage to strip my dress off hug my body nearly as tight as the dress. The silk against my slit feels amazing after all the teasing and tension with Sebastian. I sigh and rub my thighs together, enjoying the jolt I get in return.
I pull the top on next, and it fits well enough. It's a bit loose around the middle, but I guess that's where 'comfortable' comes in. Ellie carries a bit more weight around her middle so I'm sure that it fits her better than it does me.
The full-length mirror she has in the corner of her room must be from a fun house, because I look curvy. My reflection is making me feel sexy for once. I don't know if it's because the emerald satin feels like armor in a way, but I'm ready to face Sebastian again.
Stairs and alcohol are not a good mix. I end up stumbling down the last three steps on my way to the master bedroom where I'm sure Sebastian is hiding since the living room is empty. I pad down the hall barefoot and stop outside his door and am about to knock when I hear soft groans and heavy breathing.
Is he...
"Naomi..." Sebastian's voice is breathy.
He's masturbating. He's thinking of me and touching himself.
I shouldn't go in there...should I? I mean...he seems pretty set on taking things slow. Every advance I'd made he turned me down or diverted to something else—trying to be the gentleman, so I knew he was serious.
But hearing him as he touched himself...I could feel myself getting wetter. I was already sensitive from the satin touching my slit, but now? God—I needed stimulation.
So I leaned back against the wall next to his door, the cool of the cream colored paint chilling me slightly as I eased against it, my hand sliding below the fabric of the borrowed sleep shorts to find my clit that was begging to be touched.
I sighed as I felt the familiar jolt. My back arched from the drywall as my fingers brushed over my clit. The gentle touch wasn't enough. I craved hard stimulation. A slender finger runs along my sit to gather moisture and I let out a sigh.
The newly wet digit circles the bud putting pressure exactly where it needs to be and I have to suppress my urge to make any noise. I didn't want to out myself and have Sebastian peg me as a closet pervert.
My body rolls back to the wall and off it again as my need for pressure changes. My fingers are working quicker now, and my breath is coming hard and fast. I can feel the cool of the wet satin on the back of my fingers as I stroke myself again to get more moisture to my clit, and I know I'll have to get new pajamas before I see Sebastian.
In my mind its Sebastian touching me. I'm panting softly, my bottom lip caught between my teeth as I continue to struggle to keep quiet. As much as I know we want each other, there's still something super embarrassing about him possibly catching me masturbating outside his door.
