“I’m sorry…” I begin, my voice rougher than intended. “I heard you scream, and I thought…”
“Oh my God,” she whispers, burying her face in the sheets as she pulls them higher up her chest. Even in the dim light, I can see the flush of embarrassment creeping over her face. “Just go.”
“You don’t need to be embarrassed.” The sentence comes out before I can stop it.
“Sure…” Her single word is dripping with disbelief, muffled by the pillow she’s now hiding behind.
I cross the room, my movements deliberate, before flipping on a small bedside lamp. Soft light fills the space, illuminating her face. Her cheeks are a deep crimson, and her eyes are wide and uncertain. I kneel beside her bed, bringing myself to her level.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed, trouble.” I use the nickname that started snidely and has grown to be an endearment. It feels right and natural. I dust the back of my knuckles along her heated cheek, and she shivers at the contact. “I think about you, too.”
Her eyes meet mine, widening slightly. “You do?”
I nod, my thumb dragging over her lower lip. It’s fuller than I’d imagined, softer. “I’ve been thinking about these lips for the past three hours,” I admit, “and how I missed my opportunity to kiss them earlier.” My tongue darts between my own lips, wetting them slightly. “And I’m hoping I can make up for that now.”
Mackenzi nods timidly, and I close the distance between us. The first touch is electric—a soft, tentative press that quickly deepens. I angle my head, slanting my mouth over hers, and she responds with a soft sigh that I swallowgreedily. Her lips part, and I take the invitation, my tongue sweeping in to taste her properly. She tastes of mint toothpaste, and the spicy sweetness is addictive.
Our kiss grows more passionate and demanding. My hand cups the back of her head, fingers tangling in her soft hair. Her hands find my shoulders, gripping tightly as if to anchor herself. I want to lose myself in this moment, to forget everything else—the rules, the responsibilities, and the plethora of reasons this is a bad idea. All that matters is her—here, and now—kissing me back with an enthusiasm that matches my own.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing heavily. I rest my forehead against hers, my eyes closed as I struggle to regain some semblance of control. Catching my breath, I notice the hand she was using to pleasure herself is resting on the sheet beside her. Without thinking, I capture her wrist and bring her fingers to my mouth.
Her breath hitches as I slip them between my lips, moaning around them as I devour the lingering evidence of her arousal. It’s the most exquisite taste I’ve ever experienced—sweet, slightly musky, and utterly intoxicating. I suck her clean, coating her fingers with my saliva before pulling them from my mouth with a soft pop.
“Fuck,” I exhale my desire. “Your pussy tastes so fucking good.”
Her cheeks flush even deeper, but that embarrassment doesn’t reach her eyes. There is nothing in those deep chocolate pools but raw, unadulterated need. I press her hand back beneath the sheet and between her thighs. “Show me how you like to be touched,” I command, my voice dropping to a low growl.
She tenses beneath my touch. “No one has ever…” she begins, before trailing off.
“Told you how hot it is to watch you pleasure yourself?” I finish for her.
She shakes her head, answering nervously, “No…”
“That’s a shame,” I murmur, though I can’t say I’m surprised. Boys her age are more interested in getting their dick wet than truly enjoying a woman.
“No… I mean…” She draws in a shaky breath. “Seen me like this. Or at all… I’ve never?—”
Realization dawns at the depths of her confession. While I expected her to be lacking in experience at her age, learning she is completely devoid of it is a shock. I pull back slightly, guilt suddenly warring with desire. “Oh… I didn’t realize you were…”
But she stops my retreat, her hand grasping my wrist. Her thighs part slightly, a silent invitation that makes my cock throb painfully.
“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice hoarse with restraint. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want?—”
“I know.” She nods, her eyes meeting mine with a trust that humbles me.
I kiss her again, softer and more reverent this time as I pull her to the edge of the bed and into my arms. The sheet falls away to reveal a thin sleep shirt bunched around her waist. “May I?” I ask, my gaze dropping to her shirt as my fingers lightly grip the wrinkled cotton.
She hesitates for a second before lifting her arms. My fingertips brush along her skin as they glide up her body. As the shirt pulls from her head, I get my first view of her naked form in the soft lamplight. She’s more beautiful than I’d imagined—ample breasts, smooth skin, and soft curves that I want to run my tongue over every inch of.
“Will you show me?” I whisper against her lips, my hands on her hips, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin beneath them. “Show me how you make yourself feel good.”
Her eyes are wide, but she nods slowly, her hand moving down her body. I watch, mesmerized, as her fingers find the slick folds between her thighs. She circles her clit, tentatively at first, then with more confidence as she sees the effect it has on me. My breath catches, and I have to clench my hands into fists at my sides to stop myself from taking over.
“That’s it, trouble,” I encourage, my voice low and rough. “Just like that.”
Her eyes flutter closed, her head falling back as she loses herself in the sensation. Her fingers move faster, circling, pressing, sliding through her arousal. I can’t just watch anymore. I need to be closer, to taste the air around her, and to feel the heat radiating from her skin.
I lower my head, pressing my lips to her inner thigh. She gasps, her fingers faltering for a moment before resuming their rhythm. I kiss my way up her leg, alternating soft presses of my lips with gentle nips of my teeth. The closer I get to where her hand is working, the stronger her scentbecomes—giving me more of that sweet, musky scent, making my mouth water and my cock ache.
