Page 87 of Goode Vibrations
“Oh, I see what you mean. I was so focused on wanting you that I didn’t even think about that.”
I held her hand, lifted it to my lips and kissed the back of it. “I want to do this right, Poppy.”
She frowned, but thoughtfully. “So…we just go…slower?” A laugh.
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m hesitating. I don’t want you just jump you, maul you, and have you think I’m looking at this as just like...finally the wait is over, we can fuck again. You know what I mean?”
She nodded. “I do.” She crawled up onto my lap, legs curled against her chest, draped her arms around my neck, hands in my hair at the back of my head. “Want to know what I think?”
I ran my hands over her shoulders, her back. “That’s why you’re not naked. Yet.”
“I think maybe we’re overthinking it. I talked to my mom a while back, on the plane back from LA. She made it seem like…how do I put it? She said so much more eloquently than I can. What I gathered from what she said was thatwegive this meaning, Errol. I don’t think the pace or the…styleof how we have sex is what gives it meaning. It’s the emotions we put into it. Before, it wasn’t really emotions, it was just desire. Chemical attraction. You’re hot, and I want you, and I like touching you, and I want to get off with you. That’s all I was really feeling. Now, though? It’s way more, Errol. I’ve learned so much about you since the last time we did anything together. I know about your parents, how you grew up. I know, now, the sadness and the struggle that has helped shape the amazing person you are.”
A pause, and she nuzzled her nose against my jawline, near my earlobe. Kissed there, softly.
“I’m rushing into this because I’m horny as hell, Errol. Make no mistake. I haven’t had an orgasm since the last time you made me come, okay? And that’s the longest I’ve gone without even giving myself one since I discovered masturbation at like twelve years old.” Another pause to kiss under my chin, and then my throat, now whispering between kisses. “But…no matter how fast or slow this happens, it’s going to mean something for me. Like, I’m nervous, and a little scared, because…because what if you’ve changed your mind? What if it doesn’t work out with us? What if…” She pulled back, rested her forehead on mine, and I felt her words as much as heard them. “What if you can’t or won’t or don’t love me?” Her voice broke. “I want to be loved, Errol. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I just…I never knew it. Not till you. And I’m scared of letting myself be in love with you because it’s all happened so fast and it’s so much and—and—”
I cut her off with my mouth on hers, silencing her words with my lips, my tongue. Slashing across her lips, tasting her tears and inhaling her whispered sob. I had so much to say to that, but I had no clue how to put it into words.
And that’s when it clicked.
That what made this different than the last time—not only did I have things to say that went beyond words, things I felt that couldn’t be framed in human speech, but now…now I understood how to express them.
At first I just kissed her, lips on lips, and then tongues tangling. But soon, I needed more. I cupped her face and wrapped my arm around her shoulders and turned with her. Lay her on the bed, beneath me. Now, it wasn’tjustkissing. It was…sharing oxygen, mutual breath through the lock of our lips. Tasting her, giving her myself. Opening.
It went beyond a kiss. Beyond making out. It was diving into her, sliding beautifully into discovering the us of touching, tasting, taking.
How long? Until we couldn’t breathe, until we were left gasping, panting. I let her lips go, but only an inch or two. Held her gaze.
“But, I do, Poppy.”
“You do?” She feathered my hair in her fingers, traced my temple, touched my lips, traced my chin. “You do what?”
“Love you,” I whispered.
She sobbed, clung to me, face in the side of my neck. Legs around my waist, arms around my shoulders and hands in my hair, she sobbed my name.
“Errol…” She let her head drop back down to the bed after a moment.
I touched her lips with my finger. “Don’t say anything back. Not yet. Just…let it be.”
She sighed, smiled. “You love me.”
“Yep.”
A laugh. “Why?”
“Because…a million reasons. Mainly, though, because of who you are. You’re funny, you’re brave. Fearless, really. You have such an amazing eye for beauty, for art. You’re talented. You understand me. You accept me. You inspire me.”
She let go of me and cupped her breasts, shook them. “And here I thought it was going to be all about these.”
“Poppy, I’m being serious.”
Her smile faded. “I know. I was just teasing.”
“You need to understand that me loving you is…it’s not about what you look like.” I palmed her cheek. Captured her hands. “You being the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known isn’t why I’m in love with you.”
She gazed up at me. “I think I’m starting to understand.”