Touching his lips to hers was like completing a high voltage electrical current. His whole body came alive with energy. Toni made a small noise in her throat, maybe a protest, he wasn’t sure, but then she slid a hand behind his neck, pulling him in closer, her mouth opening to take the eager probe of his tongue.
“Henry,” she panted, breaking the kiss, but he couldn’t stop himself. His hand was wedged up under her skirt, the heat radiating from between her thighs. He felt her giving in, her body slowly melting against his in the dark, and he kissed her again, not giving her the chance to say yes or no, not giving either of them a chance to think at all.
“Henry, wait. Stop.” This time, when she broke off the kiss, panting almost as hard as he was, she pushed him gently away, pulling her skirt down to cover her legs. “Not here.”
He groaned softly, seeing she meant business. She was straightening her clothes, smoothing out her skirt. He turned his face up toward the screen, sliding down in his seat and trying to ignore the aching throb of his cock.
“Toni,” he whispered, nudging her with his knee.
“Shhh.” Her hand pressed against his thigh, squeezing. “Watch the movie.”
He tried. He really did. But she didn’t move her hand away. Instead she began inching it slowly upward and he held his breath, his eyes half-closed and glazed over. He didn’t know how long it took for her to reach his crotch. Half an hour? An hour? It was an agonizingly slow progression, but he didn’t dare move. On the screen, Brando and the girl had found a myriad of ways to have sex, only making things worse off-screen. Henry was so turned on he thought he just might come in his pants when he felt her long, red fingernails graze over his erection through his jeans.
When he pressed his hips up toward her hand, he heard her swallow, her palm resting now against his zipper. Her face was turned toward the screen, as if the movie and whatever Brando was doing with a stick of butter was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen, but she was exploring the outline of his cock with her fingers in the dark. He wanted to touch her, too, but he didn’t want to break the spell they were under, was too afraid she would stop, say no.
He let out a soft cry when she rubbed her thumb over the head of his dick through the denim. She shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs, and he could hear her breath coming faster, almost as fast as his. He let his knees fall further open, feeling her thigh brush his. Her sweet, bare leg. He glanced down and saw that her skirt was up, far up over her knees, up the long, slim expanse of her thigh.
She was too sexy for words.
His eyes searched for her hemline, but it just kept going up and up, the folds of her skirt finally tucked into the V of her crotch. It was then that he realized where her other hand was. The thought of her touching herself, right there next to him in the dark, made his cock swell in response. He slowly covered her hand, the one cupping his erection, with his own. She whimpered when he did that and he saw her close her eyes as he rocked up against her, with her.
Then she searched for and found his zipper. She inched it down, not even unsnapping his jeans, just sliding her hand into the opening to feel him through his boxers. This is really happening, he realized, closing his eyes as her nails grazed his balls through his shorts before her fingers found his shaft, rubbing up and down.
“Toni…”
“Shhhh…” She teased him mercilessly and he stayed right there on the edge of exploding, and she still hadn’t even touched his bare flesh. He was pure sensation, letting her carry him away and then bring him back, stopping, starting, stopping again. She kept him panting and wanting more for what felt like hours.
Finally, on the screen, Brando was collapsing. The movie was ending and he had no idea what had happened. The credits were rolling, and Toni reluctantly removed her hand from his lap, pulling her skirt back down as the lights came up. Henry fumbled with his zipper, half-sitting, his cock like a steel bar stuck down his pants, making it difficult to move.
“So what did you think?”
Henry blinked at her as she shrugged on her coat. Of what? The handjob tease? You masturbating? She couldn’t possibly mean the movie. But she did.
“Could you follow it?”
“No.” He gulped, standing and pressed against her as they moved down the aisle, his voice hoarse. “But it wasn’t because of the subtitles.”
She didn’t speak as they walked out to her car. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t quite know how. He certainly wasn’t up to making small talk and clearly she wasn’t either. The ride back to his dorm was silent. She didn’t even turn on the radio.
When she pulled up in front of Mosher-Jordan hall, she put the car in park and turned to him in the darkness. “Henry, we shouldn’t do this.”
“I know.” Of course he knew. It was a million degrees of wrong and getting hotter by the second. There was no way they should have let anything happen in the first place, and going forward was impossible. Dangerous, even.
“I’m the adult here.” She surveyed the front window where a group of guys walked by. “I… should know better.”
Henry bristled. “I’m not a little kid.”
“So I noticed.” She turned to touch his cheek, rubbing her thumb against his jaw line.
“But I don’t think…” Henry caught her hand in his, frowning. “I don’t think I can pretend like nothing happened.” He slid her hand down to his lap and her lower lip caught between her teeth
Then she let him press her palm against his aching crotch, and breathed, “I don’t think I can either.”
He leaned in and did what he wanted to, the very thing he knew he shouldn’t, and kissed her. Toni let him-she let him touch her, slipping his hand under her coat, cupping her breast through her blouse, feeling the hardening press of her nipple through the fabric. She whimpered when he did that, trying to move in closer to him, although the gear shift was in the way.
“Oh, Toni,” he groaned when her hand found him, rubbing him through the fabric of his jeans, hot, delicious friction. “I want you so bad.”
“Wait,” she gasped. “Wait.”
He rested his head against her shoulder, breathing hard. “I know.”
“Henry, you should go.” Her voice sounded pained, but her hand didn’t stop what it was doing between his legs.
“I know. I know,” he agreed, squeezing her breast, so full and heavy in his hand, even through her bra.
“Please,” she begged, starting to move away. He let her go, watching as she started straightening her clothing for the third time that night. “Before I…before we…”
Henry reached for the door handle, pulling on it. “Okay, I’m going.”
“Goodnight,” she said softly, but he didn’t stop to say anything. He didn’t say goodnight or see you Monday, which was when they had their next appointment in her office. If he’d stopped to say something, he would have just stayed. They would have gone somewhere, and things would have happened that neither of them could have lived with. She had begged him to go, and he’d done as she asked.
That’s the thought he consoled himself with as he opened his dorm room door.
“Great game!” Dean greeted him with a high five from his bed, his laptop open in front of him.
“Thanks.” Henry had almost forgotten about the game. He shed his coat and kicked off his shoes, flopping face down on his bed.
“So how was the movie?”
Henry raised his head. “Artsy.” He’d told Dean he was going out to see the film-he just hadn’t mentioned who with. “Hey, guess who I saw at the game?”
“Libby.” Dean laughed at Henry’s incredulous look. “It was televised, remember?”
“Did you know she was from North Carolina?” Henry asked. “She’s going home for Christmas.”
“I can’t wait for break.” Dean grimaced as his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his jeans pocket. “Fuck.”
“Who is it?”
“Study group.” Dean flipped open the phone. He didn’t even say hello. He just listened. Finally, he said, “I told you, after the break.”