Precious Things || Jensoo

Chapter 37

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I've never had less sleep in my life.

I've never cared less.

Jisoo Kim just spent most of the night making out with the girl of her dreams.

Hell, yeah!

Oh God, making out... If I was being honest with myself, I'd admit to briefly – just once or twice – having thought about the phrase 'sex with Jennie'.

But, since I'd never kissed anyone before her and since our first kiss was so brief and then so not-talked-about, I really didn't have much to go on. Now I have some idea of what might happen if we ever get naked together.

Combustion.

There was a point, sometime around two am, when she was on top of me. Her leg was between mine, and my pyjama top had ridden up an inch or two. One of her hands was busy on the skin there, fingernails scratching lightly and making me arch. I was arching up into her, moaning as quietly as I could, while her mouth was on my neck.

Her mouth was kissing my neck and I couldn't breathe.

It was about as far as we went last night. I know that she was holding back for me. I'm glad, because I don't think I could have managed much more. All of this has gone straight to my head and I'm more than a little bit befuddled.

That's fine.

She likes me.

I like her.

We're dating.

That's just... unbelievable.

At the start of the year, Jennie Kim didn't know my name. Now we're dating.

Now she knows what it's like to make me gasp her name in pleasure. Now she knows what it's like to have my tongue taste the shell of her ear. She liked it when I did that. She likes all sorts of things I did last night, I could tell.

Of course, I had no idea what I was doing so, aside from playing copy-cat, I had to make it up as I went along. I think I did okay. When her fingers would tighten on my arm or back and I'd feel her shudder, I got the impression I was doing all right.

There were places I definitely wanted to go, but I didn't quite feel ready to go there yet.

Like... like her breasts.

Well, hell, I've spent the best part of two years ogling them when she wasn't looking, how could I not have paid some attention to them when I was pressed up against her?

And for most of the night I was. Pressed up against her that is, tight, hard. At one point we were kissing so hard, our bodies wrapped around each other, that I barely noticed we'd begun moving. Our bodies were moving against each other rhythmically.

That was a bit much for me; I had to pull back before I fainted.

At least I can kiss her without fear of that now. Not that it's any less enjoyable, but it doesn't fill me with a combination of lust and fear. Just... the lust.

If I get the chance, we'll get 'there' in time.

I refuse to speak the words that 'there' are. I'm not ready for 'that' yet.

It would be impossible, absolutely impossible, to put a finger on the 'best' part of last night. Every kiss was perfect. Every touch was excruciatingly good.

Waking up with her was amazing. We did get some sleep. Not a lot, but some. We stopped kissing and just kept touching: light stroking along cheeks, arms, hair; occasional brushes of our lips against each other until we both slowly drifted into slumber.