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“Holy fucking shit.” I let out a quick breath once I’m in my room, wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. She was so aroused I might have been able to bend her over the sink and finish this, but I didn’t. I just got her off, and now I’m back in my room, hard as hell and thinking about the thong in my pocket.
I’m supposed to be seducing her and every fucking time, I barely get anywhere. Shit. She’ll be back. The look in her eyes when I gave her a pleasure that no one else has, is like a hope dangling in the air that I’m closing in on her. She will give in to me next time.
That’s what I’m thinking about as I shove the waist of my pants down, one hand wrapping around my fevered cock as the other fishes in my pocket for her thong, finding the damp material. It’s silky, wet with her arousal, and my cock throbs as I let go briefly to take it in my other hand, sliding the fabric over the hot, straining flesh of my cock.
It’s exactly the kind of filthy thing that would shock Espie, me in my room jerking off with her panties, and that brings me even more pleasure. I imagine the look on her face, half horrified and half aroused if she caught me like this, and I switch to jerking with my left hand as I bring the fingers of my right to my nose, breathing in her scent.
I should have eaten her out. I lick my fingers, groaning at the taste of her, imagining the way she would have moaned if I’d pressed my mouth to her sweet little virgin pussy and licked her to the greatest orgasm of her life.
The thought of that, of her squirming against the counter while I pushed my tongue inside her, licked her hard little clit, sucked on it until she screamed my name, has me close to the edge. I’ve been jerking off regularly here, way more than I ever have when I was free to fuck around as I saw fit, but Espie seems to keep me hard and wanting to blow my load anyway. I’m aching to fuck her, not just because it’s what Otets wants, but becauseIwant it, damn it all. I want to push into her sweet virgin pussy and make her scream for me when I deflower her, teach her what it’s like to come on a man’s cock. I want to ruin every other man for her, since I’m not planning on keeping her for myself.
I stroke faster, sliding the slick material, wet with both her pussy and my pre-cum now, over the head of my cock. I imagine the sounds she’d make when I push my thick length into her, the tightness of her, the fuckingheat, and that’s all it takes to make my cock throb and swell in my hand, shooting out my cum into her tiny scrap of silk panties.
It feels so fucking good, coming in them like this, imagining her. Better than it should. I cup my palm over my cockhead, jetting out every last drop into Esperanza San Giovanni’s thong, and then I lean back against the door, slowly stroking the last bits of pleasure from my cock as I come down from the orgasm.
I need to make things right with her. If I’m going to succeed in this, I can’t keep running back to my room to satisfy myself. I need to get my satisfaction fromher.
I shake my head, bite my lip until it hurts, then bite it some more until it’s bleeding, and I don’t care. With a heavy breath, I force myself out of my room, through my door until my toes are pressed against hers. I knock a couple of times, but it’s silent.
“Espie, please. Can we just talk?” The door swings open, and she’s changed into something warm, silver Prada pajamas with black slippers and a huge black cardigan that looks like Miu Miu’s runway knit from last winter. Her hair is pulled up in a tangled bun on top of her head, making her green eyes more visible and showing off her porcelain skin.
“Are we going to go meet them?” She says in a chirpy tone with a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. She’s looking past me, through me even, and I want to ask her to talk to me, but she’ll probably act like I’m crazy, considering this strange fake mood she’s wearing like a pair of ill-fitted jeans. I sigh, shoving a hand through my hair.
“Yeah.” I nod, and she steps into the hallway, brushing past me and walking down the steps like she couldn’t care less if I was next to her or even here at all. I jump into a light jog, meeting her side as we reach the foyer and turn down the hall. The entire walk to the theater, she is silent, not even looking my way.
I’m beginning to get a little annoyed because I’m not going to beg her to talk to me. Fuck, she shouldwantto talk to me. I fucking blew her mind a second ago— went the furthest with her, she’s ever gone with anyone— and she’s acting like I bought the last sweater at the Gucci store. She really does own too many sweaters now that I’m thinking about it…
I only know because I wish she’d show a little more skin than she does. I’ve even cranked up the temperature in the house to let her crack out some other looks, but she still predominantly stays in large fluffy sweaters.
“So, you’re upset.” I stupidly blurt, mostly to shut my brain up from thinking too hard about the silence. She glances over at me, eyes me as I furrow my brows, so she knows I’m ready to hear her out, but as we turn down the steps to the theater, she speeds past me and through the doors.
We walk in right at the fucking love scene of all the ones, and she keeps her head down as she makes her way past a very engrossed Barth and Olive, who barely notice us walking back up the steps. We sit back in our previous seats, quiet tension between us both as she rests her head on the back of the seat.
I want to know what she’s thinking, what I did to piss her off so badly that she’s barely looking at me. If it was about her stupid question, then I can’t fucking begin to explain how ridiculous it is that she’s mad.
“What do you really care about?”She asked, all doe-eyed and innocent. How do I answer that? I don’t give a shit about anything. It’s kind of how I made it this far. Caring leads to expectations and expectations are never what you want them to be. I got sick of the let-down, sick of getting hurt, sick of feeling pain. So, I shut it off, shut it out and just keep on living this pointless life.
The only thing that could worsen it, is being tied to her forever, so I have no idea why I’m even giving this another fucking thought. I should be spending my energy on figuring out ways to seduce her, not worrying about why she’s upset with me like some simpleton.
When the movie is over, which I’ve missed half of and have barely paid attention to in general, the lights slowly raise and Olive turns her head to us, noticing Espie’s change of clothes.
“Where were you two?” She raises her brows, curious, but not the type of curious she would be if she suspected what we actually did.
“I fell outside.”
Olive stands up. “What? Are you okay? Do you need anything?” She is about to start moving towards us, but Espie puts her hands up.
“No, that’s okay. I’m fine, Olive.” She glances over at me and I decide to help her– gain some brownie points.
“Yeah, I found her and helped her out. She had to change her clothes though, they were soaked. But we rushed down here after this one was done primping.” She elbows me hard in the bicep like I’m selling it too hard, and I shift my jaw, grabbing the spot where it hurts.
“Well…” she looks between us one more time. “Thank you for looking after her, Adrik.” Olive looks at me cautiously but with a tone of surprise as Espie nods for no reason.
“I say we watch Espie’s favorite movie next.” Olive claps.
“Oh,” Espie shakes her head, waving her palms across each other, “No. I couldn’t. This day is for you. You didn’t have to come along with me—”
Olive cuts in, “Well… I kinda did.”
