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What I wanted was to let my hands wander up her creamy thighs and between her sweet legs. What does Emilia’s pussy taste like? Has anyone had a bite? That’s what I want, and as horrible as it is, that’s what I would do if she could ever look past how shitty of a human I’ve been.
I stop outside of the driver’s side and just stare at my car for a second.
Shit.
If what she told me about our dads is true, then I’ve completely fucked up. Could it possibly be real? Is there a chance that my dad wasn’t the victim I’ve always been led to believe? Did her father really give up his future for mine?
And more importantly, why didn’t my mother ever tell me?
I’m fucking soaked, so I finally open the door and slide in. I sit in the seat, and I close the door, but I don’t slide the keys into the ignition just set. Instead, I turn and look at her.
Emilia Riley is sitting so perfectly and quietly in my car. She’s totally prim and proper, and all I want to do is fucking devour her.
“What?” She finally says, turning to me. “Why are you staring at me?”
“Do you remember the night?”
“What night?”
She remembers.
She has to.
“You know which one.”
The night I kissed a girl for the very first time.
The night I realized I loved her more than anything else in the world.
The night I decided I was going to grow up and marry her one day.
The night my entire life changed.
“Yes.”
“You were my first kiss.”
I don’t know why I’m telling her this. It’s a little embarrassing, I guess, or maybe it’s sweet. It’s not something I should be telling her after the way I treated her, though.
“You were mine, too,” she whispers so quietly that I can barely hear her.
“You never told me that.”
“You didn’t exactly speak to me after that,” she shrugs. “How was I supposed to tell you?”
“I’ve missed out on a lot, huh?”
The silence hangs heavy between us as I wonder what else I don’t know about her. What other little secrets does Emilia have that I’m not aware of?
She sighs and looked out the window. He
r breasts heave as she breathes heavily, focusing on the way the little rain droplets seem to slowly make their way down the window.
“Yeah,” she finally whispers. “You have.”
“Do you think about it?”
“What?”
