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When did she get so fucking grown up?
“What’s the matter, Gray? Cat got your tongue?” she purrs, leaning over and placing her hand on my arm. I glare at it until she removes it, slumping in her seat with a sigh. Yet the place she touched burns, lighting me up in a way I’ve never felt, and I fucking hate it as much as I crave it.
She doesn’t know how close I am to pulling over, bending her over the hood of my car, and taking that sweet, young cunt. And she just keeps teasing, walking the line.
Maybe she’s not as innocent as I thought.
“Even though I hate repeating myself, I’m going to ask you one last time. What the fuck were you doing there, Zoey?”
“Having fun,” she answers with a nonchalant shrug. “But from what I saw earlier, not as much fun as you were having. Isn’t that right, Gray?”
I don’t answer that loaded question. It’s filled with mines, and I’m too close to exploding as it is.
I refuse to talk to her for the rest of the trip so I can get my bearings around her, but unfortunately for me, I don’t need her bratty mouth to torment me when her perfume manages to do the job easily enough. Her scent fills my car’s interior, and I know I’ll have to burn the fucker to get it out. It’s a comforting thought, thinking I could blow shit up just to erase all vestiges of her, but in the end, I know I won’t do anything of the sort. I’ll keep this car and drive it everywhere I go just to torture myself with it.
When we pull up outside her place, I turn the engine off. I don’t look at her or speak a word, hoping she’ll get the hint and just get out of my car, leaving me to deal with my hard as hell dick and twisted thoughts alone.
She chuckles as she stares at her dorm. “You know where I live?”
Fuck if I’ll admit I drive by it every single fucking night, or the fact that I broke into her room and slept in her bed after a particularly hard day, just needing to smell her on my skin. Or that I stole her panties and jerk off into them every single day.
I’m a sick bastard.
“Get out,” I say slowly, without looking at her.
“No. Not until you tell me how you know where I live. Should I be worried?”
When I glance over at her, she looks anything but concerned. She looks intrigued.
That look alone could get her killed.
“Go back to your perfect fucking life, little Zoey, and behave,” I warn her.
“Stop treating me like I’m a child,” she hisses, her eyes flashing in anger, and I want to feel her claws in my back as she yells at me.
Shit, this is getting out of hand.“You are a kid,” I deadpan.
She flinches at my cold words, which makes me glad that something finally got through her thick head, but instead of crying or running like I expect, she leans closer to me. “No, I’m fucking not, Gray. Maybe I should show you.” Without waiting for a response, she slams her lips onto mine, shocking me to my very core.
Her lips are soft and supple, and when her tongue darts out and licks mine, tasting of strawberries and whiskey, my desire explodes through me in a roar. Before I can do anything in return, she pulls back, watching me smugly like she knows exactly what she did to me.
“Not a kid now, am I, Gray?” She slides from the car, slamming the door and storming off.
Oh no she fucking doesn’t.
I’m about to go after her to prove just exactly why she shouldn’t play with me before I get control of myself. I count back from ten, keeping my eyes on her retreating back the entire time. When the door of the dorm shuts behind her, I slump back, breathing heavily. I fist my hands to stop myself from chasing her down.
And I would.
Before I do something stupid, I rev the engine and peel away, racing away from her and my sick needs. When I reach the intersection, however, I can’t move, I can’t go forward, and with a snarl, I turn around and park my car at the back of the lot of her dorm. Submerged in the darkness, I watch as the lights come on in her room. The curtains are pulled completely open, not that she seems to care. She’s framed in the light, running her hands through her hair before she reaches down.
I should look away. I should leave.
I do neither of those things. Instead, I watch as she strips from her little skirt, leaving her in a tiny lace thong and that ridiculous excuse for a top. My hand drifts down without my permission, cupping and gripping my cock through my jeans as she bends over, showing her supple, perky ass and perfect legs.
What I wouldn’t do to be between them, tasting her pussy. She wouldn’t be so cocky then. Licking my lips, I still taste her, and I can’t resist. I unzip my jeans and palm my cock, stroking myself as I watch her.
Sick, sick, sick.
