Chemistry

"I'll leave," he warned. I laughed.

"You won't," I replied, and casually reached around behind my back, undoing and shrugging off my bra. My heart quickened. No matter how much I teased him, I knew the chemistry worked both ways. Here, with my breasts displayed in front of him after seven restless nights, it was getting harder to maintain control.

He looked frustrated, then suddenly helpless. His shoulders slumped.

"Okay, okay, I want you. Are you happy?" He demanded.

"I'll be happier after I've ridden you into that couch," I replied sassily. His jaw dropped. I could have laughed. Nothing turns a man on more than being wanted so fiercely.

"It hasn't been easy for me, either," I said, standing and pressing home my advantage. "I want you as much as you want me."

I placed myself directly in front of him; only a few inches and a layer of fabric separated his face and the point of my mounting desire. He showed a studious non-reaction.

"I know we're strangers!" I cried, impassioned now. I wanted him, and he wanted me. We could get to know each other after this was done, when standing near him didn't involve such crushing desire. "We can sort it out later. Please, you want to, just fuck me!"

Having said that, I wriggled out of my shorts off and stood naked in front of him. He did nothing but stare straight ahead. When I gently pushed him, however, he say submissively on his back and looked up into my face.

"Okay," he surrendered.

I joyfully stripped him, correctly predicting that he would need no warming up. He watched me with those eyes that grew more aroused with every passing second. He watched my breasts swing as I tugged his shorts off.

The passion had us again by then. I mounted him quickly and he began to thrust almost before he was inside. I was instantly lost in the rhythm of pleasure and the myriad sensations of his taut body. So much so that he surprised me by suddenly clutching my hips and increasing his pace, almost furiously driving himself home in what I realised was his orgasm.

When he withdrew, though, he didn't slump back to rest, he threw me violently off the couch. I screamed in terror as I fell but landed, impossibly it seemed, safely in his arms. He lowered me ungracefully to the floor and ducked down to bury lips, tongue and fingers in me.

He was passionate, and read me well, and it wasn't long before waves of shuddering joy were lifting me from the carpet, as I called his name and swore and wrapped my thighs tightly around his head.

When I said I was done, running a soothing hand through his hair, he hauled himself to his knees before laying himself directly on top of me. He was heavy, and crushed my breasts against my ribs, pinning me to the floor. I was in heaven. He smelled like man and sex.

Eventually, when I had stopped panting, he rolled off me, to lie on his side and stare in my eyes.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" I joked. Seemingly despite himself, he laughed softly. I continued in a gentle tone of voice, and reached up to his face. "I was serious before. We can talk to each other now. I want to know you, Andriy."

"I have a girlfriend," He said, and a palpable silence closed in on us. So that was why he was so reluctant. I wondered why I hadn't thought of the possibility before.

"I'm sorry," I finally said, not knowing what else to say. A few more moments silence.

"Look, like I was saying before, we have this chemistry. It happens to me sometimes, certain guys just...It's like madness. I don't think it can be stopped."

He was taking all this in silently, still looking at me with his unreadable face.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, "I don't know what we're going to do."

"I can't see you again," he said solemnly. I felt a wave of pity for him. I'd been through this before, and knew not to fight it.

"We could try," I hazarded. "But think about how hard it was to get through this week, knowing that you we would see each other again today. Nearly impossible, for me."

He grunted, and I took that as agreement. I laid a hand on his chest.

"Do you love your girlfriend?" I asked.

"Of course," he replied immediately, but his voice didn't match his words.

"Maybe you two should go on a break then. This...attraction doesn't last forever."

"Maybe you and I should 'go on a break'."

I sighed. "Like I said, we can try. I'm not sure it will do any good though. Have you two had sex this week?"

"Yes."

"You were thinking about me during it, weren't you?"

I saw the lie come to his lips, and he breathed in to say it. But then he just sighed and closed his eyes.

"Who are you?" He exclaimed.

"Laura Keeson. I'm nineteen, born and raised in this city. I live in this apartment, alone, and I go to university. Who are you?"

"Andriy Ordin. Twenty. Born a long way from here. I live on campus. And I should go now."

Though he spoke the last regretfully, he seemed determined. I sighed.

"Andriy, please. Stay here tonight. If you're never going to be with me again, at least make today count."

"I can't," he muttered.

"Please." I repeated. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Ah, fuck," he finally said, and I laughed in triumph.

After that conversation we got dressed, and I made coffee. We talked for hours, and even his initial coolness thawed under the weight of our free conversation. In the few hours before night fell it seemed we packed in months worth of familiarity.

When we inevitably gave in to our urges that night, it was much softer and slower. He kissed me deeply everywhere, his lips strong against my pale skin. For the first time we were connecting, not just pounding our passions against each other. Afterwards he slept with his face pressed into my breasts, and I felt so calm that I quickly fell asleep too.

In the morning he was gone and I went about my everyday life as best I could with thoughts of him swarming through my brain. The days went by, four, five, a week. I had learned from past experience that masturbation wouldn't help at all, but on the eighth day out of sheer frustration I gave in.

I'd been right. It didn't help at all.

It was on the eleventh day, a Wednesday night, that I was half-heartedly watching the news when a knock came at my door. Trying desperately not to get my hopes up, I moved quickly to the door and flung it open.

He wore a stylish blue shirt with the top buttons undone and a set of dress pants. He looked gorgeous. I ran my hungry eyes all over him, thinking to myself that I was wearing only a loose singlet and track pants.

Nevertheless, when my eyes reached his, he was studying me as thoroughly as I him.

"Hi," I managed.

"Hi." He replied. "I broke up with my girlfriend."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. He shook his head with a wry smile and stepped forward. Laying his strong, warm hands on my hips, he kissed me as deeply as I've ever been kissed, and I returned it with fervour.

We stumbled inside and shut the door. As if trying to make up for his hesitance on previous occasions, he wasted no time in stripping my top off and running his hands over my free-hanging breasts. I was undoing his buttons with a similar haste.

"I really like you, Laura," he choked. "Not just this," he punctuated with a squeeze on my behind, "but you. "

I'd just finished his shirt and as I pulled it off, replied "I like you too. Let's discuss it in depth afterwards."

He laughed and pulled my pants and g-string off in one movement. I stepped out of them and returned the favour, so that only moments after we'd shut the door I was naked, holding his perfectly-formed erection.

"Bed," I said, my pounding heart and swimming head making it difficult to put words together. I turned for my bedroom and lay myself down, legs wide. He was only a second behind and immediately kneeled over me.

There have been few moments in my life as transcendent as when he entered me. His hands were on under my shoulders, his lips almost touching mine and his all-consuming brown eyes were all I could see.

Then in one perfectly aimed thrust, he was all the way in. I'd never felt anything like it before. I cried out, helpless, as my muscles squirmed and all my pent up desire came to life within me.

Thankfully he seemed to know what I needed. I passed an amount of time in a jangling ecstasy, completely awash in this final release, what I had been dreaming about for nights on end.

I have no idea how many orgasms I had (it seemed continuous), but the last one coincided with Andriy's. His face was full of need so great it looked like pain. He was thrusting wildly, but by that point I could accommodate him. I watched him, my own climax mounting with his.

I came first. I locked my arms and legs around him and held on, moaning, against his final burst and my own trembling body. He finished with a roar and I kissed him as his eyes widened and his semen gushed into me.

In that moment his mouth was unmoving on mine, but then he gasped through his nose and he began to kiss me back, as softly as I could imagine, while he was still inside me. It went on for quite some time, his lips exploring mine while I felt him deflate until he finally pulled out.

"You won't regret this," I said, still holding him.

"I know," he smiled. And oh, that smile.

We were quiet for a while, recovering. Then he spoke.

"I've never felt anything like this before. It feels like I can't get close enough to you. I want to be with you...I want every part of you."

"I know," I replied simply. "I feel the same." It was true. I wanted to run my hands all over him, press myself against him so tightly that I could hardly breathe. I contented myself with kissing him deeply.

"It's going to be tough," I said afterwards. "You don't mind moving in here for a few months, do you?"

"Well, ah..." my question had surprised him. "Sure," he concluded, "if you're okay with that?"

"Oh, I am," I said, smiling rakishly at him. "You'll be earning your rent."

We talked quietly for an hour, simple conversation about nothing much. Eventually I brought up the subject of dinner.

"What have you got?" He asked.

"This and that," I mused. "I'm sure we can make something of it."

"Sounds brilliant," he smiled.