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~ Bridget ~
Past
Ican’t believe Amy abandoned me like that. Now what am I supposed to do?
I look up from his cellphone and back at Darren.
“Mind if I call her?” I ask him.
He calls JD and hands the phone to me.
“Hi, JD, it’s Bridget,” I say. “Can I talk to Amy?”
I step away from Darren. It was getting a little too hot and heavy for comfort.
“Hey, Bridget,” Amy says. “The bartender said you were with Darren, so I figured it would be okay if I took off.”
I walk out of the kitchen and into the living area for some privacy. “Well, I…”
“I would’ve texted you, but, you know, they took our phones.”
“When will you be done?”
“I don’t know. JD said he’ll give me a ride back whenever. I’m sure Darren would do the same for you. Have fun!”
Before I can say anything, Amy hangs up. I hold on to the phone, trying to think what I should do next. This is my chance to leave if I want to. If he starts kissing me again, I doubt I’ll have the fortitude to pull away. My body won’t want to. And yet, I’m nervous about a guy who can make me orgasm with a simple foot rub.
Why does he want to kiss me anyway when he has models at his disposal? It’s not that I think I’m unattractive, but I doubt I’m his type. Did JD put him up to it? Is he supposed to entertain me so that JD can make inroads with Amy? Not that he needs any assistance in that department. Maybe they made a bet, a challenge to see if Darren can seduce the nerdy-looking coed with the ugly sweater.
Feeling movement behind me, I turn around.
“Thanks for letting me use your phone,” I stall, handing it back to him.
I’m about to ask him about his club’s policy regarding cellphones when, instead of taking the phone, he takes my wrist and yanks me to him. The phone falls to the floor.
“Your phone—” I gasp.
But he cups my face between his hands, and his mouth is on mine, cutting off my words, taking my breath. I grasp both his forearms with my hands. Other than that, my body seems incapable of doing anything else except submitting to his kiss, which is heavier and more forceful than before. Currents go through me, warming me, melting my insides.
Eventually, one of his hands moves to my back, trapping me against him. I wasn’t going anywhere anyway. My lips seem sealed to his. His kiss is so controlling. It’s like I can’t get a word in edgewise. He’s the predator, and I’m what gets eaten. Only he isn’t messy about it. He’s not a horny teenager. He’s a practiced artisan. I’ve never been kissed like this before.
A small part of me feels like this is a joke. Like someone’s going to pop out from behind a camera to inform me I’ve been pranked on some reality TV show. That Darren won the bet about seducing me.
Screw it. I don’t care if it is a bet. I should just enjoy this like I enjoyed that foot massage.
When Darren drops his hand from my back to my ass, I let him. My head swims with the onslaught of sensations, how he seems to fill all my senses, as if all around me, nothing but him exists.
Gripping the backs of my legs with both hands, he hoists me up to his waist and carries me to the sofa. He sits down. I like my position straddled over his lap, because it gives me more height with which to kiss him. My hands wrap his head, fingers entwining in his hair. Our kissing goes on and on, an urgency below my navel grows. His hands caress my back, cradle my neck, and hold my head in place whenever he wants to push his tongue deeper into my mouth.
Turning, he leans me down into the sofa until I’m completely beneath him. I like the weight of him upon me, but it’s not the best position to be in if I decide I don’t want to take things any further.
But I do. Or, at least, my body does. It’s burning for him. I’m the horny teenager here. I groan when he licks and sucks the side of my neck, sigh when he kisses the soft spot beneath my jaw, and gasp when reaches beneath my dress. Running his hand up my thigh, he finds my underwear. It’s damp. He continues to kiss the area about my neck and collar as his fingers caress me through the panties. The fabric rubs against my clit, and I whimper.
His mouth clamps back down on mine. I don’t know what to focus on: his forceful devouring of my mouth or the delicious flutters between my legs. For several minutes, I vacillate between the two until the tension in my lower body takes precedence.
Shifting, he slips his hand down into my panties. His fingers connect with my flesh, stroking me, making me writhe. I haven’t felt this wound up since…I have no memory at the moment. This is different from the foot massage, which went from relaxation to pleasure to orgasm. This is tension, yearning, even desperation. His fondling has me giddy with arousal, fearful that he might stop, and hot with need.
Lucky for me, he seems committed to the end. He drags his forefinger along my clit and makes circles with the soft, pliant nub. My back arches. He finds a spot more sensitive than the rest and digs in. My mouth drops.
