Green Groweth the HollybyGirlintheMoon©
I had a feeling Allison would be feeling very fine the next day and I couldn't help the wistfulness blossoming in my chest. I was sitting in a strange bar, inebriated and alone. I had given my boss a blow job the day before and like an addict who fell off the wagon, I was torturing myself over it.
"Hi," someone breathed against my neck.
I jumped and then relaxed when I saw Bobby standing behind me, holding a rum and coke. I told myself to play it cool, that whatever the hell I experienced when he was on stage was a fluke. I was maudlin and needy and drunk this time of year, like always. It didn't mean anything.
"Are you ready to admit I have some talent on stage?"
I sighed. "Yeah, fine, whatever."
His lips quirked up. "I'll take it. So where did Allison go?"
"I'm not sure exactly. An old flame picked her up and they vanished."
"Doesn't that, like, go against Girl Code?"
I laughed in spite of my resolution to stay frigid. "What?"
Bobby pointed to his temple. "I have four sisters. I know these things."
I laughed again. "Well, Ally wasn't drunk, number one. Number two, you have four sisters?"
"You never listen to me," Bobby sighed. "Yep. Four. Two older, two younger. And a younger brother still in high school."
"Wow. I'm an only child."
His eyes glittered in the bar's lights. "I know, Holly."
We were quiet for a bit. I hated the silence.
"So, do you have to go back up on stage soon?"
"Nah, we played our set already." Bobby's expression was weirding me out. "How come you're in such a good mood? You're laughing and asking me questions."
"Yikes, am I normally such a bitch?"
"Sometimes," he said seriously. My face made him laugh. "Did you have a good time at your Christmas party yesterday?"
My heart squeezed unpleasantly. "Not exactly. How did you know I had a Christmas party?"
Bobby rolled his eyes. "Unlike some people, I listen. How come you didn't have fun?"
"Let's not bother talking about that." He nodded. A slow song came on, and the combination of vodka and this new thing coming over me around him now made me want to be closer to him. "Do you want to dance?"
His eyes scanned down my body, analyzing my dress, my heels, and popping back up to my eyes. "That must have been some party."
I was growing annoyed. "Wanna dance or not?"
"Definitely." He took my hand and brought me out to the middle of swaying bodies and heady pheromones.
Looking up at him as we began to find our own rhythm to the music, I had an epiphany: this guy was into me. Maybe secretly I'd known all along and that was why I was so nasty to him, or maybe secretly I'd known I was into him, too. Thoughts like these typically caused me to scatter. Instead, I moved closer, letting my breasts press against the thin fabric covering his chest.
I yanked his beanie off and played with his hair, running my fingers through it this way and that way. He looked partly amused, but mostly bewildered.
"What the hell has gotten into you, Crazy?"
"Nothing. I just never realized how soft your hair was." I skimmed one hand down his neck, feeling the chaotic beat of his pulse that gave him away, and rested on his upper arm. "Do you work out?"
He burst out laughing in my face, twirling me in another direction. He separated our bodies a little and paid no attention to my frown. "I should have known. You're drunk."
"No, I'm not." He moved us around again and the room swished around us. "Okay, well, yeah. A little. I resent your implication though."
"I'm not implying anything," he smiled. "Have you given any thought to coming over Christmas Eve?"
"No," I said. "I already told you I wasn't going."
"A guy can hope. I have a feeling you might change your mind."
"Just because I like your music and the way your hair and arms feel does not mean I'm coming over to drink eggnog and sing carols with you, Bobby." I stepped away when another slow song began to play. "You're such a pain in the ass."
"There she is. There's my neighbor. I was wondering what happened to you." He pulled me back to him and for some stupid reason I couldn't resist.
We moved in silence for a while, our hearts resting and slowing against one another's chest. His breath gently eased against the flesh of my neck and occasionally down the slope of my chest. Every time it hit me just the right way, I'd twitch or take a deep, sharp breath. I swear I heard him chuckle every time.
I don't know how long we danced like that before he broke the pleasant blanket of quiet around us.
"Why do you hate Christmas, Holly?"
Perhaps it was the booze, or the darkness, or the exhaustion and self-loathing that threatened to destroy me... Or perhaps it was the closeness of his body, the sensation of his stubble grazing against my forehead now and then, the way he touched my waist... but I heard myself talking. Really talking. Not just saying bullshit to appease someone, or to shut them up or shut them out.
"Lots of reasons. It's my birthday. Did you know that?"
His smirk was a bit half-hearted. "I had an idea."
"My parents divorced around then when I was twelve. It was never a happy holiday before, and after it was a big power play for them. I don't know. Two years ago my ex broke off our engagement. It's just never a good time for me." I took a deep breath and let it out, enjoying the weight of his fingers tightening on my ribcage. "The holidays bring out the worst in people. They can make you feel dreadfully lonely."
I thought I felt his lips against my hair but I couldn't be sure. "Yes. They can."
A loud, roaring song came on. Our moment was over. I backed up first, averting my eyes.
"Could we get out of here? I'm not in the mood to dance anymore."
He ushered me out with his hand on my lower back. Everything was different between us. Something massive and intangible. Something unidentifiable and unfamiliar. Because I was uncomfortable with anything I couldn't understand, I instantly hated it. I wanted things to go back to normal. I wanted to banter and joke around. I wanted him to tease me and stop being so nice to me. I wanted to take back everything I said and gave to him.
Most importantly, I wanted to treat this as no big deal.
My mind worked furiously to come up with something as he helped me put on my coat. He even zipped it up for me, his gaze catching mine with the last pull of the zipper. I was losing myself fast.
We stepped into the frosty air and the crowded sidewalk of drunk people smoking and screwing around. I focused on the breath puffing out of my mouth, the satisfying click of me heels, and the cabs speeding by. Then I saw something- a thin sliver of space between two buildings that were a few blocks away from our apartment building. I used to make out with my old boyfriend there. He loved the thrill of almost getting caught.
"Wait," I said, leading him over.
He followed me unquestioningly. Happily. A flicker of guilt rose up in my gut somewhere, but I stomped that shit out. I couldn't take his eyes or his attention. I knew very well what I was about to do would likely end any relationship I had with him. He probably wouldn't bring food over, or ask about Excalibur, or do anything overly nice for me anymore.
As I sweat, bringing him into the tight space with me, my blood tearing through my veins, my heartbeat deafening me, I knew it was a risk I needed to take.
When I got down on my knees and felt the rough concrete on my knees, he pulled at my chin. Frantically I tried to open his fly but he slapped my hands away. I was so shocked I stopped moving. He squeezed my chin and lifted it, but I wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Holly. Look at me."
My eyes reluctantly rose. His face was clouded with a mixture of confusion, lust, and torment. "What the hell are you doing?"
I wanted to say something cheesy and ridiculous like "rocking your world", "swallowing your cock, idiot", "blowing you and your mind at the same time". To my horror, my chest heaved and tears blurred my vision.
"I don't know." I gasped and tried to take a deep breath. "I don't fucking know."
He somehow managed to get me to stand up and he just held me for a few minutes, letting me cry.
I was more like myself again by the time we made it upstairs. I disregarded his worried stare as I stuck my key in the lock.
"I'm coming in for a bit."
Sighing, I opened the door. "I don't really think that's a good idea."
"What the fuck do you know about good ideas?"
He followed me in and knelt to rub the top of Ex's head.
I went into the kitchen and put the tea kettle on. Bobby's footsteps were loud behind me.
"Are you going to tell me what that was about back there?"
"I guess I read the signs wrong," I sniffed. "I thought you liked me."
"I do like you. Holly, I think I liked you the first time I saw you."
I resisted paying any mind to the 16 year old inside me blushing at the thought of that. "Whatever. Then I guess you don't like head."
I went to walk past him but he took a hold of my forearm. "Hey. Don't do that. Please don't do that."
I lifted my eyebrows and widened my eyes. "Do what?"
Bobby wasn't smiling. He wasn't acting at all like himself, actually. I wasn't sure I ever saw him so serious before. "Pretend like this is some typical, crude bullshit between us. It's not. You know that. That's why you try and act like some ice bitch whenever I'm around because you want to push me away."
"Wow, how astute."
He took his hand away but he wouldn't move out of my path. "I guess it must be hard to finally know what it's like to have someone want to spend time with you. To want to be with you just because you're you. I'm trying to be patient, but I'm almost out of patience. I've been trying to give you time since I moved in here. I don't know what else to do to get you to give a little. To thaw."
"Fuck you. I want you to go."
"Ten minutes ago you wanted to suck my dick."
"Just because I'm a horny slut doesn't mean I like you." I sounded like I was ten.
He rolled his eyes. "Number one, you're not a slut, and number two, you like me. Probably more than you realize, and definitely more than you want to."
"I hate you! I tell you to leave me alone all the time! Maybe you just don't understand what no means!"
I hadn't been aware of moving forward, but somehow I had. Our lips were too close. Every breath I took he gave. I could feel the heat of his body and imagine the way he would taste, how his skin would feel beneath my fingertips.
Something in my face gave me away. He picked up on it and his lips twisted. "I'm not kissing you unless you say it. You have to ask me. And ask me nicely."
"Wow," I breathed. "I never knew you were such an asshole."
"I'm not an asshole, but I am human and I am definitely a guy. I've tried to be nice and gentle with you but it's not getting me anywhere." His hand ghosted over my back and around my ass.
"I'm learning a lot about you tonight," I told him.
He smiled. "Ditto."
I stared at his lips. They were full and pink. I knew how they would give against mine. He licked them a lot so I knew the would be slightly damp. I bet he was a strong kisser. The weak-in-the-knees kind of kisser. I bet I would want to give everything to him once I kissed him. A flare of terror burst through my body, but lust was stronger.
Isn't it always?
Like he was reading my mind, he reminded me, "You have to ask."
"Kiss me. Please kiss me."
I was right. He was a strong kisser. His mouth was on me so fast I couldn't even take a breath to prepare for it, or to second guess myself. His body covered mine and pushed me against my fridge. The dual sensations of the coolness of the fridge and the unbelievable heat of his body made me dizzy.
A large, calloused hand stroked my neck and slid down my body, skating around my breasts. The other took a generous hold of my ass and pushed me closer into him. I could feel him hard between my legs and I moaned. His kisses confused me, dazed me, baffled me. Was this really the nice next door neighbor from Nebraska who called soda "pop" and joked around with me like I was his kid sister?
Yes, I realized, when he moaned my name into my mouth and I heard a touch of tenderness and long-suppressed tenderness in the tone. It was Bobby, but it was the whole Bobby. He was giving me parts he concealed, or that he hid, or that I ignored.
We ended up in my bedroom. It was slightly chilly so he eased our bodies beneath the comforter. I never took him for an actively in control kinda guy. He was surprising me every second and I liked it. I guess I was surprising myself even more.
He unwrapped me like a present, pardon the cliche AND the pun. But it was true. It was like he had waited a long time for this and wanted to savor every button released, every zipper opened, each breath I took as he did it.
He slipped my dress off and rested on his elbows, taking a good look at me in the soft lamplight.
"Holly," was all he said.
I was speechless. What was happening here? Everything was wildly out of my control. I couldn't stop, and I didn't want to stop. This was so much more than having a one night stand with my neighbor, and I knew it.
For the time being, I decided I wouldn't let myself care. I was going to turn off all the other voices in my head, all the other dark, nasty parts of me that had taken over me for 25 years. I was just going to be.
He took off my bra and then my panties. I was completely naked. He was completely dressed. He admired me for a few minutes, all curves and nipples and goose flesh. A wayward finger danced up my thigh and flirted with the strip of hair on my pussy.
It tickled a little and a laugh broke out of me. Bobby looked up, highly amused.
Without any warning, and with amusement still all over his face, Bobby slipped that finger right inside me. My hips arched up and my mouth opened but no sound came out. I was dripping wet; fortunately I didn't have the capacity to be embarrassed about it.
"I've waited a long time," he whispered. "I'm going to make this good."
Slowly he inched out, massaging the slickness of my pussy with his rough, guitar-playing finger. I took a calming breath. Then two were inside of me. He didn't give me a second to adjust to the new sensation; he pumped them faster and faster. His face was crazed and his eyes were focused and glassy. The seal had broken off the container he'd placed his lust in and now it was flooding out, apparently making me cum his main priority. I wasn't complaining.
"Tight. Wet." He took his fingers away. I think I whimpered. His tongue flapped out to taste and he moaned. "Delicious."
I could have cum just from the sound of his voice, all sex and need, but his mouth around my nipple distracted me. A sharp tooth scraped against it, sending cold chills from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. He groaned when I knotted my fingers into his hair, twisting and yanking. Per usual, I didn't know exactly want I wanted- in this case, keep him there or push his head back down to my cunt- but whatever he gave me was good enough. I was gasping, screaming, moaning, crying, and it was all over Bobby's mouth on my breast.
Eventually he moved over to the other one and exacted his revenge on that one, too. I was half out of my mind with foggy pleasure by the time his wet, wicked mouth trailed down my rips, over the delicate skin of my stomach, and toyed with my hipbones.
My head shook back and forth against the pillow as I tried to decide whether I wanted to watch what I knew was coming, or if it would be too much. Would every atom of my body disintegrate and fly into space, never to return to my body again? Or would they somehow become attached to him- molecule to molecule?
Once the steam of his breath coated the wetness between my thighs, I didn't give a fuck if this was the death of me. My eyes popped open and flicked between his dark eyes staring back at me and the extension of his tongue dipping into me.
"Oh my God," I whispered. My toes crunched and my hips slapped up into his face.
He laughed and the vibration made me jump.
"You're fucking soaked." He pressed a few fingers into me and offered them to me.
I stared at their slickness in fascination. It's not that I'd never been that wet before, or that I hadn't tasted myself; it was that it was Bobby's hand doing this to me. It felt different- and not just physically.
My lips parted and he was the one to sigh as he gave me a taste. I sucked his fingers clean, rejoicing in his broken gasp. He pulled them away and went back to feast on me. His tongue massaged my clit this time and I froze at the acute gratification.
"Bobby. You... Oh, Robert."
He ate me with enthusiasm I never saw before. For a moment I explained it as him wanting to regain footing, to regain power that may have been lost when I tasted his fingers and made him crazy. When I managed to open my eyes and look down at his brown head bobbing against the center of all my rapture, I realized his eyes were closed and he looked like he was gleaning as much satisfaction out of this as I was.
I was able to have a moment of clarity, and in that moment reality finally slapped me in the face. He wanted me. He cared for me. He liked me. This wasn't a game, or a ploy, or a one time fuck.
This was real. This is what was always lacking. Unconditional affection. Maybe even love.
He kept his tongue on me while he started fucking with his fingers and I lost it. My body took control, riding his mouth in waves. I wanted him to crawl inside me. I wanted to tell him to come into me, to take total control, but I couldn't find the words. I was left in a terrible trap of pleasure.
"I can't... Bobby, please. I can't take it anymore."
"I told you," he whispered against my inner thigh, his lips wet, "I'm going to make this good."
He went back to his fun. My clit was sucked deeply into his mouth while his tongue circled and circled. His fingers were getting clenched with every pre-orgasmic contraction I had.
"Oh, God." I fisted the sheet and stared at the ceiling, trying to brace myself for the rush of orgasm I was about to feel. "God!"
His fingers screwed in and out harder and harder. His tongue sucked and poked and flicked until I was a trembling mess. My wetness and desperate pleas, and his more frequent moans, grew and grew.
The excruciating pleasure building was like someone had deeply inhaled without ever exhaling, and now they were about to get punched in the gut.
And punched in the gut, I was.
He went crazy on me, blending the sensations of his hand and mouth. I thought I was floating away so I grabbed onto his head hard and let the orgasm crash around me. I gushed while he coaxed me, murmuring "yeah" with every additional lick of his tongue or thrust of his fingers. I flailed and twitched and shook and I think I even died for a minute.
When I came back, he was still licking me. I pushed his face away. "I can't. No more."
Bobby stood up and shed his clothes. I watched as I came down, curious about his body. It was lean but not too muscular, which I liked. Dark hair was sprinkled across his chest, down his stomach, and grew thicker and darker over his cock. It wasn't the largest I ever saw, which I also liked. It looked perfect.
He smiled as he flicked off the lamp. He covered me, letting the head of his cock bump into the hot puddle of pussy that belonged to me. I moaned loudly into his neck.
"Fuck. I have to get a condom," he whispered into my hair. "I have one in my apartment."
"I'm on the pill. Are you safe?"
In the darkness I could just make out his expression of disapproval. "Yes, but the fact that you'd just take my word on that makes me wonder if you are."