Page 81 of Darkest Obsession

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I just wish I hadn’t made things so complicated.”

“You want this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he murmurs. “I want this so much, I’m willing to compromise my morals. Now come, let me get those clothes off…”

He kisses me and lowers me slowly onto my back before peeling my clothing off. He’s slow and gentle, kissing each part of me as he removes my shirt. He runs his hands over my bra and lingers over my nipples, teasing them awake while his lips fasten against my neck.

His hands move over my waist as he draws my body against his. I feel his desire pulsing in his pants and throbbing against my leg. He wants me. Sometimes, I still don’t understand why out of all the boys and girls in the world he ended up with me. What makes me so special? I’m just the girl who tries to keep a smile on her face no matter what’s going on. I’m not the girl who gets the guy at the end of the story — I’m like, her supportive best friend who guys never even notice.

But here we are. Together.

His hands run over my breasts and I can’t help but gazing at his tattooed forearms and biceps. I love those tattoos, even if I shouldn’t. He leans forward and whispers gently in my ear, “I want to take your knickers off.”

Knickers. I love how hot and dirty the word sounds in a British guy’s mouth, even if I’m too much of a good girl on the outside to admit how much it turns me on. I nod and he slowly eases his hand past the elastic waistband of my pants.

I moan as he slips his fingers past my underwear and touches between my legs. I feel all gooey and slippery, but he grunts with satisfaction as he touches me and then whispers my name.

“Sylvia,” he murmurs. “I love you…”

I whimper and arch my hips to meet him as his fingers continue to work. The tight pressure from my leggings and panties against his hand pushing it more firmly against my wetness only makes me want him more. I whimper again and grab onto his back, pulling him closer.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs. “So wet…”

His experienced fingers swirl around my clit and I feel this desperate tightening in my chest and this urge to spread my legs wider and allow his fingers to enter me deeper than before.

“Yes,” I gasp. “Yes…”

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “Just let it happen. I can feel you’re close.”

I close my eyes and allow the sensations to wash over me as one finger finds my entrance and he slowly circles the apex of my thighs, avoiding entering me, but teasing me to prepare me for the sensation. We’ve done this before and it’s always felt good — good enough to make me cum.

“Please,” I whisper. “Inside…”

He slides his finger inside me and the hot sensation of the rigid digit pushing into me as he massages my clit thrusts me over the edge. I cry out and orgasm loudly as he works me with his fingers and continues to tease my wetness until my loud moans settle into gentle, desperate whimpers.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Off with those trousers…”

I hurriedly wriggle out of my leggings, but before removing my underwear, I paw at his shirt.

“Hurry,” I whisper. “I want to see you naked.”

He chuckles, a glimmer in his blue eyes. “Cheers, darling.”

Then he takes his shirt off, exposing a chiseled body covered in tattoos that gets me soaking wet.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Clover

“Should we worry that Sylvia’s not in her room?”

“She probably snuck off to see a boy,” Thomas mutters. “We should leave it.”

Boys are so lazy when it comes to their friendships. If helping a friend involves exerting more effort than a well defined grunt, they’re useless.

“I’ll text her,” I grumble.

Thomas tries not to sound frustrated.