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  "Holy--holy shit, Xavier," I gasped. "More."

  I guided his mouth to my other breast, and he suckled my nipple into his mouth again until I wrenched away, half screaming, half whimpering. The need to come was so sharp now it felt like a knife inside me. I lifted my hips.

  "Touch my pussy again," I whispered. "Make me come."

  He started over, gingerly delving his finger inside my channel, drawing my essence out of me and smearing it onto my clit, and then beginning small slow circles. When I started moaning and driving my hips into his touch, he sped up.

  In moments, I was riding the ragged edge again, and I knew I couldn't draw it out any longer--if I didn't come right then, I'd go mad.

  I needed to touch him, now, needed to make him come as hard as he was about to make me come.

  I clung to his shoulders and let my knees splay apart even wider, heels driving into the mattress to provide leverage for the gyration of my hips into his touch, which was fast now, speeding up as I finally felt myself about to fall over the edge.

  "Oh--oh fuck, Xavier, I'm--oh god--I'm coming, holy shit I'm coming! You're making me come so hard, Xavier...don't stop...faster! Yes! God yes!--fuck!--just like that!" I let go completely, let myself scream and thrash and chant his name, unable to stop myself, coming harder than I had in years.

  He milked me through the climax, not stopping or slowing as I pumped against his fingers, whimpering and moaning as I came back down. Finally, I had to stop him, too sensitive to bear being touched any more.

  I caught his hand, brought it away from my pussy. The rush of the orgasm made me crazed, made me daring--I brought his essence-slick fingers to my mouth and slid my tongue up his digit, tasting my own essence on him.

  He sucked in a harsh breath. "What--what does that taste like?"

  I smirked coyly. "Find out for yourself."

  He slid his finger into his mouth, eyes widening at the sudden assault of flavors and scents from my pussy. "Wow--wow." His gaze slid down to my core. "Not what I was expecting."

  I'd thought I was done--unable to take any more touch, any more stimulation--but the heat and hunger in his gaze put the lie to that.

  "Taste me," I invited.

  "Down there?"

  I nodded. "If you want to."

  "You taste good," he said, palms cupping my breasts as if he just couldn't help himself.

  "You could make me come again, if you did."

  "Do you want me to?"

  "I want you to do what you want, Xavier." I brought his mouth to mine for a slow but brief kiss. "But yes, it would feel amazing if you went down on me."

  "Then I shall go down on you." He suited action to words without hesitation, sliding down my body to wedge his shoulders between my thighs.

  I hooked my knees over his shoulders, propping myself up on my elbows to watch. His bright green eyes were focused on my slit, flicking briefly up to mine and then back down. Hesitantly, his tongue slithered out and drove up my seam; he made a surprised noise in his throat, and licked my slit again.

  "Oh--oh god," I murmured, the feel of his tongue and rasp of his stubble beyond heaven, beyond nirvana, beyond anything I'd ever felt. "More. Please, more."

  He gave me more--so much more. I didn't have to tell him or show him anything, he seemed to know instinctively what to do, following the sounds I made, the way I writhed, to make me repeat the moans and movements. He stiffened his tongue, circling my clit with it like he had with his fingers, and then when I broke apart into gasping pleas for more, he lapped at my clit, faster and faster, in a vertical swiping of his tongue.

  "Oh fuck--fuck, fuck!" I screamed. "God, yes! Oh please, God, Xavier--right there, just like that--"

  I cut off with a wordless scream, coming even harder than the last time, shattering into a million spasming shards.

  When I came back down from the orgasmic high, he was still eating me out, devouring me, and I pulled his face up to mine, wiping at the smear of wetness on his cheeks, laughing at his awed expression.

  "Making you come--" he murmured, wiping at his mouth, "it's--it's the best thing ever."

  He fell to his back, staring at me sideways. I was gasping, still, limp and lifeless.

  "You just gave me two incredible orgasms," I said, rolling toward him. "I think it's time to return the favor."

  9

  Xavier

  * * *

  I couldn't believe this was happening. It felt unreal. Surreal. But it was real, and it was the best day of my life. Beyond any dream or fantasy I'd ever had. Her naked body was...it was the stuff of dreams. A fantasy made real. That I got to see her, touch her? How could it be real? What had I done to deserve this?

  My senses were on overload, everything inside me screaming. But--it felt good, beyond good, the feel of her skin like silk or velvet, the salt of her skin on my tongue, her hands in my hair, the wet slickness of her pussy around my fingers and against my mouth--so much, too much, and I didn't want it to ever end. Everything was heightened. My entire body tingled and throbbed.

  And now she was reaching for me.

  I had a flashback of being at Brittany's house, her cruel eyes and vicious laughter--I shut it out, pushed it away and focused my attention on Low, on her heavy round breasts, the damp curls of her pubic hair above her womanhood--what did I call it? What did she call it? I resolved to avoid calling it anything until I could figure out how to ask that question without sounding stupid.

  She was leaning over me again, hooking two fingers into the elastic of my underwear. "I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel," she said.

  I swallowed hard, trying my best to shut out the flashbacks piling behind the walls I was frantically erecting in my mind.

  "Okay," I whispered, unable to say another syllable.

  She drew my tight gray boxer-briefs away from my body, away from the throbbing shaft of my erection, and tugged them down. I lifted my hips, a knot in my throat, my pulse crashing in my ears. She slid them down past my butt and drew them off, tossing them aside.

  I was naked. Lying on my back, my eyes on hers as she stared at my erection. I couldn't breathe. Everything tingled and ached and throbbed. My senses were so far overloaded it felt like I was seconds from a total meltdown. My erection was so painful it felt like a white-hot spear stabbing and throbbing.

  "Holy shit, Xavier," Low muttered in a soft voice.

  I frowned at her, teeth gritted. "What?"

  She ran her palm down my stomach, giggling. "Your cock is huge."

  "I...oh. It is?"

  She met my eyes as she hovered her hand over me. "I mean, I knew you were probably pretty well-endowed just from the size of the bulge behind your zipper, but this thing is..." She shook her head, laughing again. "Seriously the most incredible cock I've ever seen."

  I didn't want to think about her seeing other cocks, but her words made something inside me swell. "Really?"

  She leaned over me, her plump soft damp lips brushing my cheekbone. "Absolutely the fucking truth," Low whispered. "And now...I'm going to touch you. Okay?"

  Couldn't breathe. She was going to touch me.

  Bare.

  Have you ever been with a girl, Xavier?

  So dumb it's adorable...

  As if someone like ME could ever actually want someone like YOU...

  I shut the voice out, focusing on the present, on Low's voice in my ear, murmuring I wasn't sure what, my head buzzing, my pulse too loud in my ears to hear anything. I watched as she settled her hand onto my erection, cupping me, and then her thumb and fingers wrapped around me. Explosive urgency rose inside me.

  The feel of her hand on my cock was...god...oh god.

  I forced my eyes open, staring down at her small pale hand around my cock, and then to her eyes, watching me.

  "You're so sexy, Xavier," she said.

  I couldn't breathe. Couldn't manage words.

  It was going to happen again. I would embarrass myself.

  Too much, too fas
t.

  Too soon.

  I gritted my teeth, tried to hold back, but her touch was too perfect too soft too warm too smooth, and then she was sliding her fist down and back up.

  She leaned close to me again, her lips brushing my year. "Don't fight it, Xavier."

  "I--I can't..." I gasped, gulping. "I'm...it feels too good, Low."

  "It's supposed to feel good." She nibbled on my earlobe. "It's okay. Let it happen. Let go."

  I didn't want to let go. It wasn't okay. The last time that had happened in front of someone, it had been the most pivotally, fundamentally scarring moment of my entire life. I knew--mentally--that Low was very likely rather familiar with what would happen when I let go, and that my hang-up with this issue was unique to me, and probably ridiculous. I knew this. But I couldn't fight it. Couldn't stop the panic. Anxiety ruled me. Embarrassment owned me. Fear crashed through my skull, pulsed in my veins.

  I felt her touch like fire on my skin. My breathing was ragged, and my hips were flexed upward as far as they would go. Her fist slid down my cock with exaggerated slowness--or perhaps my awareness of time was distorted, drugged by her touch.

  I was a living dichotomy of sensation--

  One half was chanting in a frenzy: touch me touch me touch me don't stop god it feels so fucking good please never ever stop--

  And the other half, just as manic: oh god it's too much I can't take it, it hurts don't make me go there don't make me embarrass myself in front of you like this I don't want this where can I hide from this where can I hide from myself it's too much too much too fucking much I can't stop this--

  I heard my breathing and a soughing and rasping in my throat as if I was having an asthma attack. My voice, groaning as if in utter agony. Her small warm strong delicate soft fingers traveling the length of my organ, swirling and twisting around the top before plunging down to the base, stroking there.

  How long had it been going on?

  Seconds.

  Perhaps three full strokes of her fist.

  And I couldn't hold back. Already.

  Please no, please no--

  Have you ever been with a girl, Xavier?

  That laughter.

  The cruelty in her eyes.

  It's not her, Low is not Brittany--I told myself this, again and again with every firing of each synapse, but it made no difference.

  I was fifteen again, in a bedroom with the popular girl, her cruel voice in my ear.

  I opened my eyes, forced them to stay open, gazing at Low.

  "There you are," she murmured.

  "Low--"

  She leaned over me, and the soft weight of her breasts against my chest made me throb and ache and pulse closer to the precipice, so close I was riding a razor's edge between control and embarrassment.

  "I love the way your cock feels in my hand, Xavier," she whispered in my ear. "Does it feel good for you?"

  She nipped my earlobe. Her fist twisted around the head of my cock, and her lips skated over my cheek, and her tongue traced my lips, and her thumb smeared over the clear wetness seeping from the tip.

  "Low--shit!" I grated past clenched teeth. "I can't--I can't--I fucking can't--"

  Weight behind my eyes, pressure in my skull. Pressure in my chest, in my balls. A furious maelstrom in my heart and brain and body, all aflame, all a roiling chaos out of my control, all centered on the slow slide of her hand around my cock.

  I heard a whimper escape me, a small, helpless sound--and then a growl.

  Low's forehead nudged against mine, her eyes locked on her hand and my cock. "Yeah?" she whispered, a sultry, provocative breath. "You're about to come, aren't you? Let me have it, Xavier. Give it to me. Don't hold it back."

  She didn't understand--she didn't understand.

  This moment, this sensation was irrevocably and inextricably tangled with embarrassment and humiliation.

  I focused on sensation--her hand, the soft gentle affectionate slow grip of her fingers around my cock; her breasts crushed against my chest, her nipples hardened; her thigh draped over mine, the tickling rasp of her pubic hair against my thigh as she ground her center against me; the scent of her skin, of her sex; the scent of her sex on my face, on my fingers; the taste of her sex on my lips, her essence still tangy and sweet and musky and intense on my tongue and lips; my cock, aching throbbing pulsing, balls boiling with a raging need I could no longer deny.

  I'd held out as long as possible.

  Thirty seconds?

  She sat up, breasts swaying. She guided my hand to her breasts, and then used that same hand to cup my balls, which she massaged while stroking me.

  The silken weight of her breast in my hand, her touch all over me, her beauty on display in front of me, sensation coursing through me--I was undone in that moment. She was my undoing--all of her, all that she was.

  I exploded with a ragged cry. I felt myself release, choking back another moan of humiliation.

  I watched--I had to watch. She wrapped both hands around my cock and stroked me slowly as I climaxed. My seed rocketed out of me with unbelievable force, striping up my belly and chest in a hot wet line, and over her fingers. She didn't stop as I came, watching with what appeared to be sensual delight, lower lip caught in her teeth. More and more and more thick white viscous spurting cum, dripping all over her hands, both of them, trickling down her knuckles and the backs of her hands, still seeping out of me as she continued to stroke me.

  She giggled. "Oh...my...god--you came so much," she said, trailing a fingertip through the mess on my stomach and chest.

  My heart stopped.

  Lungs froze.

  Brain short-circuited--going haywire, showing me Brittany and feeding me her voice in my head even as I saw Low and heard her.

  I was there, yet again, in that bedroom, that cruel laughter ringing out.

  I'd humiliated myself yet again. In front of and all over the hands of a woman I liked and admired and was attracted to more strongly than any other human being I'd ever met.

  Panic is what I felt.

  She saw it.

  "Xavier, it's okay. It's okay." She scooted closer to me, leaning over me. "Breathe, Xavier. It's okay."

  "I'm sorry--I'm sorry--"

  Her lovely features scrunched up in confusion. "Sorry? What the hell are you sorry for? That was amazing!"

  "No, no--" I shook my head, sitting up and scrambling away, trying to escape the mess on my stomach and chest. "I--it's all over me. It's all over you. I can't--I can't--" Words refused to emerge coherently, because my brain was a hurricane of a million thoughts and emotions, overlapping and colliding and smashing and exploding, recriminating, shredding through my logical understanding.

  She moved with me, reaching for me. "Xavier, wait! Just breathe, okay? It's okay!"

  "It's not okay!" I shouted. "I'm not okay. This is not okay. I can't handle this."

  "We can handle it together--"

  "No, no, you don't understand, you don't fucking understand--I keep seeing her. I know you're not her, but that's all I see, it's all I feel." I was off the bed, flattened against the wall, the mess from my orgasm dripping down my body, a sensation I couldn't stand. "God, get it off, get it off. I'm sorry--I'm sorry!"

  Low, unashamedly still naked, hurried into the en suite bathroom and grabbed a hand towel and then returned to me with it.

  "We can clean you up, Xavier. I'm sorry, I should've realized the sensation might be--"

  I snatched the towel from her and grabbed her hands in mine. "No, god--no, get it off you first," I snarled, scrubbing and wiping my cum off of her hands with panicked, clumsy movements. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--shit, shit, shit!--"

  Low took the towel from me before I could finish cleaning her hands. "Xavier, stop--stop," she snapped, firmly but not unkindly, and my eyes whipped up to hers. "I like your cum on my hands."

  She lifted her right hand, the one I hadn't cleaned, up to her face, to her mouth, and her tongue flicked out and licked away a smear
ed droplet of my seed.

  "I'm not embarrassed, or upset or grossed out--I'm happy," she said, her eyes not wavering from my own incredulous gaze. "I'm ecstatic. I'm turned on. I've never been more attracted to anyone than I am right now, to you."

  "I'm embarrassed," I said, closing my eyes as the truth emerged, involuntarily, from my lips. "I'm humiliated. It happened again."

  Her eyes widened. "It happened again? You mean--the story you told me about that nasty girl from your high school, that cruel trick she played on you?" Low pressed her face closer to mine, so all I could see was her fierce blue eyes. "That did not happen again, Xavier. I wanted to touch you because I'm attracted to you. I want you. I want this. I wanted to make you come, and I'm so fucking turned on by how hard you came that I could come again in a heartbeat. Watching you come, just from touching you with my hands--that was so fucking hot I can't even--"

  She grabbed my hand and guided it to her center, between her thighs, and guided my finger through the hot wet pink center, just beneath the apex of the triangle of reddish-gold curls. "Feel how wet I am? You did that to me. Watching you come, making you come did that to me." She gestured around at the room. "It's just you and me. No computer, no phone, no camera, just you and me. Just this moment we shared. You made me come. You made me feel more incredible than I've ever felt in my whole fucking life, Xavier! You! With your hands and your mouth, the way you touch me, the way you kiss me. You did that. And I want more of that with you. Do you understand?"

  I jerked my hand away, rude and frantic from the welter of panic and doubt and confusion and sensory overload. "You don't understand, Low."

  "What don't I understand? Please explain it, because I'm confused." For the first time since I'd known her, there was a hard note of anger in her voice.

  "I hear everything you're saying," I started, closing my eyes, knowing I was about to unload a truth on her no one else knew about me. "But it doesn't change the way this is processing for me."

  "Why?"

  I forced my eyes open, forced myself to meet her blue eyes with mine as I dropped the bomb. "Don't you get it? Haven't you been listening?" I knew I was being unkind, being unfair, but I couldn't help it. "Sensory overload, difficulty with social situations, tendency toward involuntary physical tics, combined with unusual mental capacity in one or more areas--do those symptoms mean anything to you, Low?"