Flat 51

I lifted her back off the wall and laid her back on the bed, kissing her every chance I got. I wanted her so bad, so bad.
I tore my shirt off and laid her back on the bed, never allowing my lips to part from her soft, damp skin. Her robe fell open at the bottom as I trailed my fingers again up the soft, perfect skin of her inner thigh. I pressed my thumb gently to her soft spot, and I didn't think I could be any more turned on than I was but the moan she released certainly proved me wrong. I pulled my hand away and moved to untie the robe. Just as I was about to pull it open, she began to wiggle away. I grabbed her waist and held her, trying to read the tears in her eyes.

"Emily... did I hurt you?" I whispered, my voice laced with fear. I didn't want to scare her away now. She shook her head before bursting into tears, burying her face in her hands. I sat back on my calves, a leg on either side of her, and pulled her up into my arms. I let her cry for a moment, despite my utter confusion. What had I done? I desperately hoped she wouldn't run away. I would go crazy if she did. "Tell me what's wrong, baby girl." Baby girl? Since when... since when did I use that phrase? It just slipped out, I suppose, but it sounded right.

"I-I'm sorry, I just... I don't understand," she sobbed, her chest heaving.

"Don't understand what?"

"Why... why you're t-touching me and kissing me and making me feel good." What? What had she been expecting?

"Emily, are you a virgin?"

"No, that's just it. The men at the bar... When Mom was sick I would fill in for her. Those men, they didn't touch me like this. I just did the-the job and that was it. Why are you touching me like this?" They forced her? Anger flooded my body at such a vulgar thought. How could someone force a twelve-year-old girl like that and not feel guilty?

"When... when was the last time you had sex?" I asked. It was bold, but I wanted to know.

"Last year, but that was an accident. We were both drunk, and I never saw him again. I don't want to. but before that, five years, since the bar."

"Well, you were taught using the darkest nature of men, Emily. Only that kind of man would take care of himself first. I would never use you like that. I need you to trust me."

"I... I trust you," she whispered, tracing the lines on my chest with her trembling fingers.

"Let me show you what it can be like to be intimate with someone you care about," I purred in her ear, laying her back down on the soft duvet. She ran her hands down my chest, and I tried to hide my own nerves. "Let me... let me make love to you." I kept my voice soft and gentle, trying to reassure her. I needed reassurance myself. I'd never... 'made love'. With the girls I always brought home it was just about fucking and that was it. We pleased each other and then she left. It was hot, wild, and rough. I'd never bothered to be gentle with anybody before.

"Do you... do you care about me?" she asked, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes as I kissed her soft neck. Did I? How would I know? I didn't know what it felt like to care about someone other than my family. I'd never wanted a woman as much as I wanted Emily right now. I'd never wanted to carry on conversations about silly things with people like I did with Emily. I always wanted to be with her, to hold her hand, to kiss her. Is that what caring about someone is like?

"Yeah, yeah I do, Emily," I whispered, pulling back and looking her in the eye. She smiled ever so slightly, sending waves of anticipation through my body.

"I care about you too," she whispered. "But... do you... can we wait? I don't know if I can do this tonight." a few more tears spilled down her cheeks, tearing my heart in half.

"Of course we can wait, Emily. In fact, I think I could wait a thousand years as long as I could be with you," I said with a cheesy grin. She smiled a little, but not enough for me. I hugged her one last time before I got up to leave.

"Harry!" Her voice was panicked, and I turned back, immediately rushing to her side on the bed.

"What's wrong?" I demanded, grabbing her hands. She blushed and looked down at our fingers.

"Please don't go," she whispered. She wanted me to stay? I nodded and hesitantly climbed into the bed next to her, pulling the heavy duvet over our bodies. It was more than obvious that neither of us were entirely sure what to do, but we found a comfortable position with my front pressed to her warm back, and my arms around her waist. She did not for a second let go of my hand. Is this was caring about someone was like? Because if it was, I wanted to feel a whole lot more for her than just that.

Notes

I'm so tired. Also, if y'all haven't read it, shoutout to Sinister World. To sum up how I feel about it, I am completely and infinitely emotionally distraught and have no hope whatsoever. Thanks a ton, Kal. Lots of love, haha. I honestly just had to retype 'haha' like four times because it kept coming out as 'haah'. I had the same issue with the word 'hand' tonight. It kept ending up as 'hadn'. It's late, I'm tired. Goodnight. Sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite, and if they do, take a shoe and beat them till they're black and blue.

Em XO

P.S. Also shoutout to What Makes You Beautiful. That one makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I accidentally just typed 'all' as 'ass'. I should probably go to bed.