Choosing a Second Chance

I ran my toe up and down his calf and hugged him close to me as we kissed. I slid my hand up his shirt and caressed his back and shoulders. My stomach flipped as I felt his hand move slowly down my hip to my thigh. He was touching my bare skin, as my nighty had gathered slightly and was up much higher than it would be if I were standing. He felt me tugging gently at his shirt, and I helped him slowly peel it over his head. I ran my hands along his chest—oh God, how I missed him! It suddenly felt like there had never been a rift between us, and that we were simply enjoying our time together like we always used to do. I was certain we wouldn't go much farther than we had already—we were just fooling around a bit; nothing more.

I draped my leg over his and kept kissing him; if he ever stopped kissing me it would be too soon. My hand found its way to his hair, and I played with it gently, lovingly, remembering how much he enjoyed it. His hands were slowly moving over my body, but I sensed no urgency from him, and so did not stop him. It wasn't until we broke away from our kiss and I realized how badly I was out of breath that I thought we might take things too far.

I knew we would take things too far, however, when he began to kiss my neck. I've been with other guys who enjoyed kissing my neck, but I never loved it as much as when Ryan did it. He didn't suck on my flesh; he merely massaged it with his lips and tongue so gently that I could not stifle a low moan when he did it. Apparently he remembered exactly what I liked, as well. My hands were in his hair while he kissed my neck and chest, and if nothing else I was certain my heaving chest was enough to spur him on. He continued on, thank God, to kiss along my collarbone over to the thin strap of my nighty. He moved so slowly and gently that I did not care when my strap fell off my shoulder. It was a harmless side effect, I decided, compared to what he was doing to me simply by kissing my neck.

He took his time in everything he did. He moved so agonizingly slow over my chest that I silently begged him never to stop. I had never known him to take things so slowly—usually I sped things along faster than they should have gone simply because he drove me wild. Tonight was so different, but I loved it just the same. If I could keep myself from rushing him along, I was certain this was going to be an amazing night to remember.

My nighty seemed smaller than it was when I put it on, and I realized that the hem of it had inched up nearly to my hips, and the low neckline was dipping lower than usual, because my strap had fallen off. I surely would have pulled that strap back up onto my shoulder, but my mind went blank again when I felt Ryan's weight shift as he came to lie on top of me. Oh, how I adored the feel of him on top of me. He continued to kiss his way lower and lower down my chest, so slow and timed. I continually had to fight my urge to hurry him along, but I was so ready for him already that I started to wonder if I would survive the night.

I brought my legs up and let him lie in between them; I could barely stand to wait any longer as it was, but I knew he was going to take everything slower than I wanted him to. I ran my hands along his strong arms and whispered his name without realizing it. I closed my eyes and at last felt his lips on my breast, still taking his sweet time as he worked his way down my body. My nighty wasn't doing itself justice any longer; it was hiked up to my waist at the bottom and pulled down to expose my breasts at the top. I hadn't even noticed that my straps had both fallen down and he was inching the fabric off my body as though he were unwrapping a delicate gift.

Just to move things along—I couldn't help myself—I sat up and gently pulled the soft fabric over my head and dropped it onto the floor. I was now wearing only my panties, and he put a hand behind my head to lay me back down onto the bed. My skin seemed to tremble when it touched his, and I would have been cold had Ryan not been on top of me. Seeing me tremble, however, he reached back to pull my comforter up around us before continuing to kiss his way down my body. I closed my eyes in agony as he licked around my belly button; he always had a thing for my belly button, I now remembered.

I felt a little silly that he was underneath the covers as I lay there. I didn't like that his face was so far from mine, for I longed to kiss him again. I almost stared strangely at him when he resurfaced; it was as though he had read my thoughts. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him slowly. When I finally felt him harden against my leg, I was tempted to strip him down and finish it right then and there, but I held myself back. I knew he wanted to take it slow, and, as hard as that was for me, I wanted to do it.

I started to tug at the elastic on his pajama pants lightly, just to let him know where my mind was going. Yes, I had doubts in my mind about pushing things along even farther, given our history together. Maybe I was just rationalizing in thinking that this was the best way for us to say goodbye on out last night together. I inched his pants down his hips, and he didn't stop me. He was being so sweet, I almost hated to move things along, but I couldn't wait much longer. I could guess we had already been together for over an hour in my bed, and that was long enough for me. I never understood how quickly time passed with I was with him.

I slowly brought his pants as far down his body as I could, and it wasn't until he shifted his weight to take them off that I realized that I never wanted to leave his touch. I pushed back the doubtful thoughts that flooded my mind at that moment, and pulled his warm body back down onto mine. Things were certainly heating up now; I was no longer cold, but could feel the blush in my cheeks and the heat rising from beneath my blankets.

At last, I felt his fingers slip inside my panties and massage my clitoris gently. My breath caught in my throat, and I couldn't believe how close I was already. He was still kissing me, as I would have it no other way, and rubbing me slowly. I could barely breathe hard enough through my nose as we kissed, and started to moan quietly. I felt it coming on fast now, and broke our kiss with a moan as I arched my head back and closed my eyes. He watched me as I moaned when the orgasm finally hit me. It was longer than most other orgasms I had ever had with him, or with anyone for that matter. Apparently, good things really do come to those who wait. He kept rubbing me while I moaned and panted and shook gently. I came down from the peak of the orgasm slowly, feeling shivers run across my skin as the pleasure faded almost as quickly as it had come.

As soon as I could breathe again, I pulled him close to me and kissed him warmly. He ran his hands all over my body and I suppressed another urge to pin him down and finish him off. He slid his hands down under my panties and guided them slowly down my legs. I could feel him trail his fingertips back up the inside of my thighs, so slowly that I froze, afraid to move and deter him from anything he wanted to do. Shivers broke across my body again, only to be warmed by his kiss once again. I could finally feel that Ryan had just begun to break a sweat as I ran my hands through his hair and down his back.

My hands found their way to his boxers, and in a dizzying moment, I edged them over his hips and down his legs with my feet. I lifted my legs to finally let him rest in between my legs again, and the feel of his skin on mine made me wet all over again. I was glad that doubt had left my mind, but wasn't surprised—his touch made my mind go blank. I was lucky I could even remember my own name at this point.

I could tell he was working hard to slow himself down now, even though he didn't show it at all. I could feel it in his familiar touch, see it in his breathtaking eyes, hear it in his breath. I closed my eyes and stifled a pain that tiptoed through my chest—Oh, how I would miss him tomorrow when he left me. I opened my eyes a second later, and the feeling was gone as Ryan was reaching down to massage my clitoris once again. I was more than ready, even though I hadn't expected to be so soon again. Did he know my body better than I did, as well? He already understood my thoughts and my soul better than anyone ever had before. Clearly there was no detail of me that was unknown to him.

The next orgasm was even more intense than the last one, even though it was a bit shorter. As the buildup tantalizingly increased, I threw my arms around his neck tightly and held on for dear life. I was so taken aback by the thrill of this second orgasm that I couldn't even catch my breath long enough to moan or call out his name, like I usually do. I shook even more than I did the last time, and when it was over my entire body went limp with exhaustion. Ryan ran his hand over my chest and down my arm, where he entwined his fingers with his. I hadn't caught my breath yet, but kissed him long and hard anyway. I must have moaned, then, because he broke apart to look down at me.

"You alright," he asked, with a smile behind his eyes. I nodded, and I guessed he could probably read the sadness in my eyes. To be honest, I had stifled a sob by moaning, and now blinked away tears. He ran his fingers along my jaw line again, and searched my face as though he were trying to remember every detail. He shook his head slowly, and whispered, "You're so beautiful."

I thought for a moment that he was trying to win me over and change my mind about his leaving tomorrow. Whether this was what he was trying to do or not, I don't know—but had I been a single heartbeat closer to missing him than I already was, it most definitely would have worked. And there he was kissing me again, stealing my thoughts and pain and confusion. Nothing mattered while I was with him, even if it was for the last time.

I urged him on by sliding my hands down his steamy body and gently stroking his hard penis, which throbbed in my hand. The breath rushed from his lungs as I did so, as though he had not expected me to be so forward, but really he knew me better than that. He knew I was dying inside and needed to be joined to him at last. Self-control was never my strong suit, and the fact that I had made it this long without rushing him merited some kind of award as far as I was concerned.

I guided him into me, but he did not enter right away—it was cruelty in every sense of the word. His eyes met mine when he finally slid in, inch by inch. I know it sounds girly and over-sentimental, but I have never physically and emotionally connected with him the way that I did that night. I was usually in such frenzy by the time we rolled around to this part that I never paid much attention to it. There was something between us this time—something painful and bright, burning and tearful all at the same time.

He brought his forehead down to meet mine while he slid back out again, then in. This all happened so slowly that I barely even knew where I was anymore. "I love you," I heard him whisper.

"I love you," I answered. It may have been a lie. It may have been truer than I would ever realize, especially since I had decided to cut him out of my life. It may just have been a silly girl caught up in the moment of the most amazing and heart-wrenching night of her life. Maybe I did still love him. Or maybe I had simply told him what he wanted to hear.

He did not pick up his pace as quickly as I usually begged him to do; he moved slow and lovingly. It took my breath away, just as much as the pleasure building up again inside me did. I closed my eyes, but it was no use—he knew my eyes were flushed with tears. I suppressed most of them, but one single tear ran down my cheek as he gained momentum inside me. He kissed it away gently, and he finally began to pick up speed. I was glad it was almost over; the thought of being so drunk with love for him was tearing at my heart, and I wanted everything to be over so I could begin to force myself to believe that this was for the best again.

A thousand memories flooded my mind when I came to orgasm again, and I blew them all away with my last labored breath as he held me in his arms for the last time. After he came, he collapsed onto me in exhaustion and tried to catch his breath. I wrapped my arms around him and lightly kissed his forehead. I hesitate to say I went numb when it was all over because it makes it seem like I didn't enjoy that night with him. I was merely numbing my emotions, to the best of my ability.

He eventually slid off me and I came to rest my head in the nook of his arm with my hand on his chest. He held me close, and I wished, for a blink of an eye, that he did not have to go. But I knew he did. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear—words I still remember to this day—and made me smile because he couldn't bear to see me so sad on his behalf. An hour or so later, I moved slightly to look up at him and found him asleep. I leaned up to kiss him gently on the lips, and then I curled up in his arms and drifted to sleep.

When I awoke late the next morning, he was gone. I felt the familiar heaviness in my heart, the numbness of my senses. I looked over to where he had been sleeping. On the nightstand, he left his transfer papers. They were filled out and ready to be mailed. I didn't know what he wanted me to do with them, but the aching pain deep in my heart told me.

I threw them away.