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When she was younger—five to be percise—there was only one boy of any importance in Belly Conklin’s life. Sure, her older brother was also somewhat important, but he was also bothersome and annoying which made Belly sure she could live without him. Conrad Fisher, however, Belly was absolutely positively certain she could not live without.
He was the perfect boy, in Belly’s eyes. Funny in a way that was actually funny, not in a gross way like Jeremiah and Steven. So smart, Belly was convinced he knew all the secrets of the universe. And to top it off, he was charmingly sweet, just like all the heroes from the romantic movies she would watch with her mom and Susannah. He was Belly’s dream boy, the boy she was certain she would marry. In fact, she did marry him. In a puffy purple dress the summer before she started school, her handsome groom waiting for her at the edge of Susannah’s garden in the fancy suit that all Fisher boys wore, barely smiling but standing dutifully for his wife because that’s what Belly asked him to do. And what Belly asked of him, he would comply because that’s simply the kind of boy he was.
For five-year-old Belly, it was the most perfect day of her life.
Too bad childhood marriages can be blinked away without a second thought.
…
As Belly grew older, she realized she wasn’t the only one who appreciated all of Conrad’s good fortunes. He grew up to be hot and sexy and popular, which meant there were many other girls—girls who were hotter and sexier and more popular than she was—who wanted his attention. And Conrad, still that sweet, nice boy she’d known as a child, gave it to them without reservation. He liked those girls. He liked the way they treated him, and talked to him, and giggled with him. Belly could tell. After all, a girl doesn’t grow up peering into her next door neighbor’s window without learning how to also peer into his heart. She was happy for him, no matter how much it killed her preteen heart. He deserved to be fawned over by pretty girls. So she let him have it. Them. She tucked away her love for him, burying it deep under the covers of their friendship until it was nothing more than a secret, lest Steven and Jeremiah tease her for it.
At age 12, Belly was admirably more mature than she wanted to be. It’s okay, she tried to convince herself. She let him go and she moved on.
…
Belly was thirteen when she got her first boyfriend. Cameron—or Cam, as she called him—from history. They had been in school together since kindergarten, but in all honesty, Belly had never noticed him. (Only one boy of importance in her eyes, remember?) But after they were paired up for a project together, Belly couldn’t help but accept his invite to go to the winter formal together.
He was sweet (not in the way Conrad was, a little bit of tartness mixed in with his tenderness. Cam was all sugar.) and nerdy and adorably awkward and so, so kind. Belly laughed at his jokes and taught him about Aubrey Hepburn’s cinema. When he surprised Belly with a date to a showing of Sabrina at the local vintage cinema, Belly nearly believed she could fall in love with him.
“You know, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he confessed to her at Susannah’s annual new year’s eve party.
The adults were busying the living room with their mingling over champagne flutes and hors dourves. Belly was dressed in a black dress, the velvet shimmering around her as she sat on the stairs, Cam beside her in a navy sweater and slacks, both of their hands cupping a flute of sparkling cranberry cider. She turned her attention away from the living room to him. He was smiling at her, eyes soft.
Belly blushed under his gaze. Absentmindedly, her fingers fiddled with the fabric of her skirt. “Really?” she whispered.
A similar blush formed on Cam’s cheeks as he nodded. He reached out to tuck one of her curled strands behind her glasses. He pulled his hand back and waited a beat. Then released another confession. “I’ve always thought so.”
Belly’s lips parted on an unformed gasp. “Why did you never tell me before?”
Cam shruged, looked down at the bubbling liquid he was holding. “I was always a little nervous. Plus,” he said, “I always thought you were interested in Conrad. And everyone knows no one can’t compete with Conrad.” He gave her a wry smile.
The blush on Belly’s cheeks darkened involuntarily. Now it was her who glanced away. She shook her head. “Conrad’s just my friend.”
It was a lie, but Cam was kind enough to believe it for the truth. Even kinder to ignore when he caught Belly locking eyes with Conrad down below in the living room in the middle of their kiss at midnight.
But eventually, he couldn’t ignore it. Not when he’d keep having to gently nudge Belly back into studying after she’d get distracted watching Conrad shovel snow outside the kitchen window. Or when she almost mistakenly called him Conrad enough times for it to be embarrassing for both of them.
Cam was kind even in the midst of breaking up with her the weekend before Valentine’s day. He still gave her a heart shaped box of chocolates even though she didn’t deserve them. I still think you’re the prettiest and coolest girl in the world, but I also think Conrad isn’t just a friend for you.
Belly didn’t cry that night. Only mutedly ate an orange crème truffle. It was the day after when she cried, eyeing the cardboard heart that sat on the edge of her nightstand. It was the strangest thing. She didn’t cry because of the break up itself; she cried because heartbreak didn’t hurt as hard as she thought it would. It was a devastating revelation for newly teenaged Belly who thought love was supposed to feel all-consuming, maddening. What a let down that was, to feel more hurt on the rare occasions when Conrad had snapped at her than when her boyfriend dumped her.
…
A year later, Belly finds herself in another relationship. This time it’s Cory from French class. He’s cute, too. Has a head of curls just like Cam. But he’s not as dorky or nerdy. He’s the scruffy type. The type to get his hands dirty with engine oil and have a worn out denim jacket as a permanent fixture in his daily wardrobe. He’s less shy with his smiles, has a confidence to him that’s charismatic and not arrogant. His French is atrocious but he’s good natured about it, grinning whenever Belly laughs at his pronunciation as they conjugate verbs together side by side.
Belly falls into a camaraderie with him easily. She blushes every time he nods at her in the hallway, eagerly accepts his invites to sit with him at lunch on the days their schedules line up together until there’s no longer a need for one. And as the semester passes, their friendship seamlessly evolves into romance. Secret kisses in hidden hallways, notes scrawled on ripped paper slid into lockers, soggy fries stolen off of lunch trays.
It’s easy, her relationship with Cory. He’s perfect for her, she thinks. He’s always making her laugh. He gives her his beloved denim jacket whenever Madame Eleanor has the air conditioning on too high. Buys an extra chocolate chip cookie for her at the cafeteria. Sure the notes he writes for her are mostly written in text abbreviations, but it’s romantic that he’s even handwriting them at all. It’s all she’s ever wanted. There’s nothing else she could possibly need.
At least that’s what she thinks until a warm evening in April.
They’re at the park in Belly’s neighborhood, a casual picnic date with pb&j sandwiches and brownies. The sun set a while ago, but Belly’s not ready to go home yet so they’re passing the time swaying on the swings, stars twinkling overhead.
Belly tips her head back, looking up at the sky, fingers clutching the chains of the swing. “I wonder if Venus is a morning star or an evening star tonight,” she murmurs.
Cory laughs. He leans toward her. “I think Venus is a planet,” he teases with a smirk.
There's a smile on her lips as she playfully shoves him. The chains on his swing rattle as he’s swayed back to the opposite side. “No, I know it’s a planet,” she says, “but ancient astronomers actually believed it was two different stars. Because it’s so bright, you know.” She pulls her gaze away from the sky to look at him, her own eyes bright in sharing this fascinating information with him. “It’s the second brightest thing in our sky. The moon is the first.”
“Mhm. Sure.”
Belly pushes her weight back on the swing a little, then lets go, letting the wind push her gently. “For 263 days, Venus is a morning star,” she tells Cory. “Then it disappears for 50 days before coming back as an evening star.”
“Uh…”
Belly digs her feet into the sand. She turns to look at him again as her swing slows to a stop.
He gives her a confused smile. “You kinda lost me there, Bells.”
“Oh.” Belly’s own smile dims a fraction before she lets it grow into a placating grin. She shakes her head. “Never mind. It’s dumb. How can a planet also be a star, right?” She scoffs into a laugh.
“Exactly!”
They continue swinging for a little while longer, but as she bikes back home, Belly can’t help but think that Conrad would’ve understood. Just like he’s always understood the stories she’s told him about the constellations that her dad had taught her. She can’t help but think he’d use proper grammar to write her notes in class just like he does in the birthday cards he gives her every year. She can’t help but begin to silently notice every way in which Cory flails in comparison to Conrad.
Cory never catches wind of it, but he does notice Belly’s declining interest in him.
He calls it off a week before finals.
…
The rest of Belly’s high school romance career proceeds in a similar fashion. There’s a boyfriend in sophomore year who is freakishly possessive and absurdly jealous of Belly’s friendship with Conrad, going as far as to make her choose between the two. A summer fling with a Latino tourist the summer before senior year who showers her in poetic compliments and takes the prettiest pictures of her but still manages to make her feel as beautiful as Conrad did when he saw her in a white dress for the first time. A boy from a rivaling football team she goes to prom with, which stirs up far more juicer gossip than the relationship actually entailed because really all that happened on her prom night was that she let the football player go home with another girl he became interested in while she called Conrad to come pick her up and take her out for milkshakes to nurse her “broken heart” as per tradition.
None are the epic high school romances she ever envisioned for herself, but it’s what she was dealt.
…
Much to Taylor’s surprise, Belly maintains her virginity all throughout high school. It isn’t until she’s a freshman in college that she actually even makes it to third base.
She meets him at a local diner the week before midterms. Beckham, he introduces himself as, and he has a slight accent that she can’t quite put a finger on but he’s magazine cover gorgeous with a single curled lock falling into his ice blue eyes and Belly’s so sick of doing nothing but studying nonstop for as long as she can remember that that’s all it takes for her to accept his offer to go to his apartment.
His apartment is nice, cleaner than she’d expect from a college student, which is a nice perk, though it doesn’t really matter. All Belly wants is to blow off some steam. So she focuses on shedding her clothes and helping him shed his, pausing only to admire that she did indeed make the right decision when she sees his shirtless form, before jumping right back into kissing him.
He’s a gentleman, carrying her to his bed and laying her down carefully before he puts his mouth anywhere other than her face. He murmurs praises into her skin as he kisses her down her body, and she squirms with need underneath him.
But when his fingers trail down to where she’s wet, when he rubs against her folds, then puts one in, all Belly feels is disappointed. It’s not a lack of effort on Beckham’s part. He’s rubbing his thumb in all the right ways, Belly’s certain, thrusting his fingers in the right frequency, paying attention to her clit. And yet, she feels empty. Unsatisfied.
It’s embarrassing, she thinks of herself afterwards, to fake an orgasm for her first time, but maybe that’s just it. Maybe it didn’t feel good, didn’t feel right, because it was her first time.
She continues seeing Beckham, seeking him out whenever her studies become too stressful. In the beginning, it doesn’t help much. Not in the way she needs. His fingers are too smooth, his lips too sweet.
What would Conrad’s fingers feel like? Belly wonders one night as Beckham groans against her shoulder. She thinks about Conrad plucking at his guitar strings, pulling at the weeds in Susannah’s garden. The callouses she’s felt scratch against her soft palms. She moans at the picture, the invisible image of Conrad's fingertips teasing her slippery folds and it’s with that that she comes the hardest she ever has as she chases that imaginary friction.
Having unlocked this trick, Belly uses it to her advantage. With her eyes closed, she pictures it’s Conrad’s smirky mouth kissing her. It’s his silky hair tickling against her sensitive skin. It’s his teeth scraping hickeys into her neck right next to where his infinity necklace he gave her at sixteen lies. It probably makes her a bitch, but what Beckham can’t know won’t hurt him, and it’s fortunate for her that she can scream the first part of his name and pretend it’s him inside her without any consequence.
It works wonders for Belly. With Beckham. And then with the others after Beckham. Her relationships in college end up being less romantic and more sexual, but it’s enough for her. She’s happy.
…
In the summer between sophomore and junior year, Belly gets selected to work on a short film. The director, a grad student named Richard, is so accomplished and competent in his field that Belly falls for him almost immediately. Of course, in the name of being professional, she keeps her crush under wraps, but when Richard asks her out on a date once the summer is over, she’s all too enthusiastic to say yes.
Belly’s pleased to know that Richard’s competency extends beyond films. He’s a wonderful boyfriend—the best she’s ever had—and he’s so good in bed that she can hardly remember why she ever used to think of Conrad to get off in the first place. It’s her most genuine relationship in a while and the longest, spanning over the course of a whole year.
Which is why she’s a little frazzled picking out an outfit for their first anniversary dinner date.
Belly’s still in Boston because her classes don’t start for another two weeks, so Richard is driving down to spend the weekend with her. It’s very sweet of him. Now, if only she could find the perfect dress to wear to make sure she relays that she appreciates him.
Ripping off yet another dress that suddenly doesn’t look flattering on her, Belly lets out a silent scream of frustration, throwing open her bedroom door and rushing down the stairs.
“Mom! I don’t have anything to—oh.” She stops in her tracks when she doesn’t see her mom but her neighbor from across the lawn instead. Her face brightens at the sight of him. “Good, you’re here. I need you.”
Not giving him a chance to resist, Belly clutches his wrist and drags him off of the couch and up the stairs behind her.
“Um. Need me for what?” Conrad asks, dutifully following her.
She pulls him into her room and shuts the door, letting go of his arm. “I need you to help me choose a dress for my date tonight.”
Conrad surveys the room, tracking the clothes strewn haphazardly across her furniture and floor. He’s not fazed in the slightest. Why would he be? He’s witnessed this sight a million times.
He meets her eyes. “Wouldn’t Taylor or Anika be a better option for this?”
Belly huffs as she walks over to her bed. “They’re both busy.” She shuffles around the dresses lying on her mattress. “But you’re a guy so you can give me the official guy opinion.”
“Uh… okay. Sure.”
“Great. As a fellow guy, which one would you rather see me in? This—” She picks up on the pieces, a sheer lilac number. “Or this?” She asks, holding up another dress, this one red with little daisies dotted all over.
There’s a gulp that travels down Conrad’s throat as his eyes dart between the two outfits. His gaze lingers on the purple dress for a moment, before he swallows again. “That one.” He points to the red midi dress.
Belly looks at it, then to him again, brow arched. “Are you sure? This is serious, Conrad.”
“Yeah, Belly. That one. It looks great on you.”
Trusting him, Belly throws the purple dress back onto the bed. “Okay, perfect. Thank you. Now get out.”
Not even five hours later, Belly’s slamming the front door with mascara streaking down her face.
”Bean?” Laurel calls. “Is that you? What’s wrong?”
”Men are jerks,” Belly replies, angrily marching up the stairs. “That’s what’s wrong.”
She hears the scruff of a chair sliding against the wood floor, then the hushed tone of Conrad saying, “I’ve got her,” and another chair sliding out as she shuts the door to her room close.
This time her scream of frustration isn’t silent. She flings her purse to the side and grabs a pillow to yell into. She’s still yelling when there’s a knock at her door.
”Belly? It’s me.”
Bellh throws down the pillow and yanks the door open.
”What the fuck is wrong with you?” she hisses at Conrad.
Hs blinks at her as he closes the door. Points at his chest. “Me? What did I do?”
She rolls her eyes. His audacity. “Why did you tell me to wear this?” She waves a hand down her body. “Why would you tell me to wear a childish dress to a first anniversary dinner?”
”Woah, hey.” Conrad walks deeper into the room, reaching out his hands toward her. Belly swats them away and he respectfully lets them fall to his side. “Who said it’s childish?”
Belly sniffs, swiping at her tears with an angry hand. “Richard did,” she mutters. “I knew I should’ve worn the purple one.”
How do you expect anyone in film world to take you seriously when your wardrobe is so… childish. Really, Isabel, you should know better by now. But I think it’s best if we go our separate ways. We clearly have different priorities about our future.
”He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Conrad says to her now, breaking her out of her playback. “You look gorgeous.”
Belly’s eyes narrow to slits. “You always do this!” she yells at him.
“Do what?” he asks helplessly. When she doesn’t answer, he continues. “I’m sorry for choosing your dress wrong but I… I really do think you look beautiful in it, Belly.”
Belly turns away from him, hands clutching at her hair as a groan rips out from where she’s tried to repress her decades old feelings for him. “Stop it, Conrad. Stop it.”
Conrad stays frozen in place, silent, letting her take deep breaths as she tries to calm down.
She turns back to him. “You always do this,” she cries, fresh tears in her eyes. “You always ruin my relationships. Since the beginning—Since Cam,” she chokes out, “you’ve always been the reason they never work out, no matter how hard I try.”
His eyes widen in confusion. “What are you talking about?” he whispers. “I’ve never—I’ve never tried to break you up with any of your boyfriends.”
”No, but you’ve always been in my head,” Belly says, anguish tearing her words. “And here.” She taps her chest where her heart beats underneath. “I know I can’t have you but no matter how hard I’ve tried to make myself understand the fact, I can’t stop.” A strangled cry releases from her throat. She falls onto the edge of her bed. Her voice softens into a rasp. “I can never stop comparing them to you or thinking about you or wishing it was you in their place. And it hurts, Conrad. It hurts to not be able to have you but only want you.”
Tears are streaming down Belly’s cheeks. Conrad stays quiet for a second before he comes up to where she is. He kneels by the bed in front of her, placing one hand on her knee.
”Who said you can’t have me, hm?” he asks gently. His free hand moves to her cheek, thumb wiping away her tears.
Belly’s wet eyes meet his. “You've never wanted me,” she murmurs.
Conrad looks stricken. “How can you think that, Belly?”
“It’s true, though, isn’t it? If you ever wanted me, you would’ve done something about it,” she says with a sniffle. “My entire life, I’ve seen the way girls look at you. I didn’t want to stand in your way.”
”Belly, sweetheart.” Conrad’s own voice is choked with emotion. “No girl has ever meant anything close to what you mean to me.”
She looks into his eyes. “If that is true, then why didn’t you do something about it?” she demands.
“Because I thought you didn’t want me,” he confesses quietly. “All the guys you’ve ever been with or ever liked have always been these really kind, curly-haired guys. I didn’t think I was your type. Jeremiah seemed more your type, if anything.”
Belly blinks at him, scrunching her nose. “Ew. Your brother is the last person I’d date,” she insists. “And curly hair? Really? That’s all it took for you to believe I could never like you?” She scoffs. “All I’ve ever wanted is you. I was born with a crush on you,” she cries. “Everyone knows that.”
”I thought it was too good to be true,” he admits in that self-deprecating way of his. “But I have always liked you too.”
She swallows down a residual sob.
Lifting his palm off of her knee, Conrad tugs the silver chain he always wears around his neck out his shirt. Holding it out, he makes sure Belly can see the circle of metal that dangles at the end of it. “Remember this?”
Belly stares at the makeshift pendant, blinking away her tears and shock. “Is that…”
”The ring you slid on my finger at our wedding? Yeah. The frog fell off a while back.”
Belly lets out a watery laugh.
At their backyard wedding, Belly had made Conrad slide on a plastic pink gemstone costume ring on her hand while she gave him a ring with a frog’s face on it that’d she’d gotten from one of those grocery store coin machines. She thought he’d have lost it by now. She’s lost hers.
”You kept it?” she asks in disbelief. Her eyes flick up to his again. “But I’ve never—How have I never seen it?”
“I take it off whenever there’s a risk of it getting wet, because the metal gets tarnished. See?” He flicks the ring over to show her where the silver has given way to a metallic green. “I don’t want it to get ruined.”
”You kept it,” she repeats in awe. “I can’t believe it.”
Conrad drops the chain, letting the ring thump against his chest as he rises on his haunches. Both of his hands cup her cheeks, brushing away her hair from her wet skin. “You’re my wife, Belly. How could I throw away my only evidence of that, hmm? We don’t even have a marriage certificate.”
Belly giggles. “Your wife, huh?”
He smiles. “That’s right.”
”Hmm. Well, if that’s the case, shouldn’t we consummate our marriage?” she asks with an arched brow.
Conrad raises a brow of his own. “Oh, you’re a bold one, aren’t you, Mrs. Fisher?”
Belly’s heart does a somersault at hearing herself being referred to as that. “I’ve always imagined it,” she admits softly.
Conrad eyes darken, his voice lowering. “Yeah? What have you imagined, baby?”
”You kissing me,” she whispers.
“Is that it?”
She shakes her head, tipping her forehead against his. “No. I’ve also… I’ve also thought about your fingers in me. How good they’d feel, all rough and gentle at the same time.”
Conrad closes his eyes. Inhales. “Fuck.” He takes a beat, then instructs her to get up. “Come here.”
Standing, he takes her hand and leads her to stand in front of her floor length mirror.
“I’m going to prove to you this isn’t a childish dress. That you look absolutely delectable in it,” he promises to her reflection. “But do you want to know a secret before that?”
Belly holds his stare through the mirror. “I want to know all your secrets.”
Conrad’s lips curve into a proud smirk. He leans down, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear. “I didn’t want him to see you in that purple dress.”
”So you knew that was the better option and you ruined my date on purpose,” Belly accuses.
“I did no such thing,” he says inoccently. “If Richard was a real man, he’d love you in any dress. Especially this one, because you look hot as fuck in this too.”
”Do you really think so, or are you just saying that?”
”Keep your eyes on the mirror, sweetheart. I’m going to show you just how much I mean it.”
Conrad swipes the hair over her shoulder, clearing her neck so his lips have space as he moves them down her throat slowly, alternating between gentle kisses and teasing sucks at her skin. Belly lets her head fall back onto his shoulder with a moan, her eyes falling closed, but Conrad quickly corrects her, his hand coming to redirect her chin towards the mirror while his other arm stays locked around her waist as he continues his sloppy descent.
“What do you see?” he murmurs into her collarbone.
“You—” Belly gasps as his teeth pierce her skin.
”Me what?” Conrad prompts as his tongue lathes over the bite.
”You giving me a hickey,” she breathlessly says.
He clicks his tongue. “I’m feasting on you,” he corrects. “Remember how I said you look delectable?” He moans into her skin. “I can’t get enough of you, Belly.”
”Oh.”
Once he’s done with the love bite, he pulls up, standing straight behind her with his hands planted on her waist. He asks her again, “What do you see?”
“Myself,” Belly says.
”And how do you look? The truth,” Conrad instructs firmly.
”Pretty,” she admits. “I look pretty.”
He rewards her with a kiss to her temple. “Good girl.”
Then, Conrad begins to unzip her dress. He braces a palm against her upper back while his index finger and thumb grip her zipper and slowly, carefully, he tugs it down, unveiling her smooth skin.
”So beautiful,” he murmurs.
When the zipper meets its end, he places both hands at her sleeves and slides them down. The dress falls from her hips, and Conrad helps her step out of it until she’s left standing in only her bra and panties.
Belly watches him through the mirror. She feels shy, seeing his gaze sear into her, feeling the warmth of it wash over her so intensely. But when his eyes meets hers again, she can see not only the lust in the reflection but also the love. The love she’s craved for so long, so much more pure and genuine than she ever imagined. She smiles.
When she does, he returns it with one of his own before pressing it softly into her shoulder.
He makes quick work of unfastening her bra and letting that fall to the ground as well. The panties stay on.
”Keep watching yourself,” he commands her while he works her nipples with his fingers. And Belly was right. The callouses on the pads of his fingers are rough in all the right ways. Just the sensation of them rubbing against her sensitive nipples has her withering in his hold. She can’t imagine what’s going to happen when they disappear into her panties.
”Keep watching,” he commands her firmly. “Does my sweet girl like that?” he asks when she notices her hips bucking. “Does she like her pretty little tits played with?”
Belly nods eagerly. “So much,” she manages between breaths.
”Good.”
Slowly, Conrad works his fingers down over her body. When he gets to the edge of her panties, he lightly traces the lace at her hip with a blunt nail, his other hand reaching down further to cup her over the fabric. Belly bucks into his hand, a whine slipping out of her mouth as she tries to get some friction.
”Shh. Patience, sweetheart.”
”Please, Connie,” she begs. “I need you inside of me. Please.”
”Such a good girl,” he coos. “Asking for what you want.”
He gives her a small taste of what she asked for, the fingers cupping her unfolding so that his middle finger can lightly run over the soaked fabric while his other one continues to tease her lower belly.
”Already so wet for me, hmm?”
Belly nods against him. “Mhm. Need you. Please. Please.”
”You have me, Belly. You always do.”
With that, Conrad peels the panties away from her, pushing them down her thighs. When they get to her ankles, Belly quickly kicks them off, not wanting them on her a second longer.
Conrad chuckles into her hair. “Desperate for me, aren’t you?”
”I’ve always been,” she says without shame.
He hisses hearing that. “Fuck, Belly. You’re so perfect for me.” And with that he inserts one finger into her. She’s dripping so much, it slides in easily.
She moans as she watches it go in and out of her. “More, Conrad. Please. I need more.”
Conrad pats her hip. ”Relax, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”
He continues to finger her, then adds in a second, and a little while later, a third. Her mouth falls open in a cry at the feeling.
”So full,” she mumbles. “I’m so full.”
Conrad’s arm wraps around her waist to keep her standing as she begins to lose her stamina. “Look at you. My beautiful, perfect girl,” he whispers reverently. “Look at that perfect pussy. How pretty she is for me. Say it, Belly. Tell me how pretty your pussy is.”
”It’s pretty. So pretty,” she babbles. “It’s so—ah!”
”That’s it, Belly. Come for me.” And she does. She comes around his fingers, gushing and soaking them in her wetness. Her body goes limp, but Conrad doesn’t let her off.
“Oh, sweetheart, we’re not done yet.”
Belly’s eyes widen. “I can’t,” she protests. “I can’t—”
He smirks at her. “Tsk. One orgasm, Belly? Is that all you have in you?” He shakes his head. “I don’t believe it.” He pulls his fingers out, and the squelching noise it makes is so lewd and loud, it makes Belly flush.
“I can’t stand any longer,” she tells him weakly.
”Good thing you have a bed then.”
He leads her back over to the bed, pushing all of the dresses she left thrown on them down to the floor. She couldn’t care less. She’ll re-steam them tomorrow.
She lets Conrad lay her onto the bed, then waits for him to join her.
Before he does, he sheds off his clothes, peeling off his shirt and yanking his belt off. When he goes to undo the button of his jeans, Belly reaches out. “I wanna do it.”
He lets his hands fall, giving her access to take off his jeans. She thumbs the button out of the little slit in the jeans, then slides down the zipper before tugging them down his legs. He steps out of them, then looks at her.
“Want to take off the boxers too?”
Belly swallows. “Yes, please.”
Conrad gives her a small smile, the tips of his ears flushed with pink. “Go on then.”
She slides her fingers into the waistband on either side of his hips and pulls them down. His cock springs free, and she marvels at it with a small oh.
It’s already hard, a bead of precum already leaking at the tip. He’s so beautiful and perfect, she’s already drooling.
She licks her lips, then tells him. “Your dick is pretty too.”
Conrad’s smiles grows in pure affection. “Thank you, baby,” he says with a kiss to her forehead. “Now get comfortable. I’m going to eat you out.”
And eat her out, he does. He starts at her neck. Belly’s afraid he’s gonna give her another hickey she won’t be able to hide, but it’s her infinity charm he sucks on, the tip of his tongue weaving in and out of the holes of the figure eight. When he’s done with it, it drops onto her chest, cold in its dampness against her heated skin. Next, his mouth latches around one of her nipples as his fingers return to playing with the other. Belly lets out a silent gasp as she feels his lips close around it, feeling herself turn to jelly when he sucks on it feverently. He switches to the other one, and she thinks that if she were to die right now, it would be the perfect way to go out.
He continues his descent of kisses, creating a wet trail from her chest to her crotch, and its absolute heaven when he reaches where she needs him most. She’s already so sensitive, but it’s the best thing she’s ever felt. Her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling and yanking as his tongue laps up her release from before. He sucks on her folds, and she convulses on the bed, wanting him to stop, thinking she’ll die if he keeps going but also if he doesn’t. He feasts on her like he’s a man starved.
“You taste so divine,” he tells her with his mouth full. “So fucking sweet.”
He doesn’t let up as she soaks him, not even coming up for air. He continues his assault, and Belly comes a second time, giving him what he was parched for. He doesn’t miss a single drop, slurping it all up and licking her clean, before crawling back up to kiss her.
”Do you taste it,” he murmurs against her lips. “What a delicacy you are?”
”Mmm.” She’s brainless, boneless. She has no idea what he’s saying, or what he’s doing, or where she is. All she knows is him.
”Are you gonna fuck me now?” she asks blearily.
Conrad pushes back a strand of her sweaty hair. “Is that what you want?”
Belly nods, eyes half-lidded. “Yes, please. I want to feel you inside me. Please.”
He kisses her cheek. “Okay, baby. But if it hurts or you want to stop, tell me, okay?”
She nods again. “Okay.”
Conrad hovers over her, bracing himself on his arms. Reaching one hand down, he positions himself at her entrance, then looks back at her face. She’s already looking at him, ready and waiting.
The head of him slips through her folds, gathering her slick, and then it pushes in. Belly gasps as she feels the tip slide in.
”Okay?” Conrad asks.
”Yeah,” Belly nods. “More. I need more, Connie.”
Conrad fulfills her request, pushing in slowly, one inch at a time. When he’s finally seated, he pauses, letting them both catch a breath.
”You can move now,” Belly says.
Conrad rocks into her with gentle thrusts. With one hand, he cups her jaw. Staring into her eyes, he tells her softly, “I love you, Belly.”
She gives him a watery smile. “I love you, too, Conrad.”
They both come shortly after. Their limbs tangle together as they lay side by side on Belly’s bed. He needs to get up and get a washcloth to wipe her down and clean his cum off her belly, but she doesn’t let him leave her just yet, her grip on his bicep unyielding.
”It’s only ever been you,” she tells him, drowsily, completely sated for the first time in her life.
He kisses her against her brow. ”And it’ll only ever be you.”