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Her head falls back as I squeeze her tits harder.
“I need you naked, babe. I need your legs wrapped around my waist and my cock buried deep inside you.”
“Your mouth is filth, Reese Whitfield.”
Wrapping my fingers around the bottom of her hoodie, I drag that and her vest from her body, throwing it to the floor behind me.
“You love it,” I groan, staring down at her resting back on her palms and allowing me to take my fill of her body.
“Do I?” she taunts.
“Yeah, your cheeks are flushed, your chest is heaving, and these…” I reach out, pinching her nipples again and making her squirm on the counter. “You’re wet for me too, aren’t you?
“Reese,” she moans, arching her back, begging me to give her more.
Tucking my fingers under her waistband, I give her a second to get with the program and lift her hips, helping me out.
Dropping to my knees before her, I tug the fabric free from her ankles and press my hands on the insides of her knees, spreading her wide for me.
“Reese,” she gasps, fighting against me.
“Too late to be shy now, sweet cheeks. I’ve already tasted it, and I’m fucking starving here.”
“Jesus.”
“I fully intend to spend our whole time here with your taste coating my tongue. When we drive back into Saints Cross, I don’t want there to be any doubt of who owns you.”
“And what about you?” she asks, finally letting her legs fall open to expose what I really want.
My mouth waters as my eyes feast on her.
“Fuck, I need you.” Her cunt glistens with need, and my brain totally misfires as I’m utterly consumed by my desire for her.
“What about you, Reese? Who owns you?”
“Do we need to do this now?” I ask, ripping my attention from her pussy in favour of her eyes.
“I can’t be yours if you can’t be mine,” she says so fiercely that I half expect her to jump off the counter and walk away.
My grip on her tightens in the hope that she can’t feel my hands trembling.
With every touch, every word, every glance, my plans for breaking her, for turning my back on everyone, Saints Cross and All Hallows’, crumbles around me.
I thought it was exactly what I needed to do.
Break her heart and leave her world rocked, the foundations she thought were so solid shaking around her.
But everything I believed isn’t true.
Even now, hours after talking it out, the evidence of my stupidity makes my head spin.
She didn’t know.
She didn’t send me to the house that night to discover my mother’s infidelity.
She’s as much a victim of our parents’ lies and betrayal as I am.
Why couldn’t I have thought that to be the case when it happened?
