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I’m not sure who makes that move first. Then our tongues stroke each other, creating more pleasure, heat, and obsession. I’m an idiot for thinking I could bury this crush.
He’s almost at my sex. I’ve opened my legs, instinct screaming at me, fantasies guiding me. I always knew I’d be nervous if something like this happened. I wouldn’t fight it or listen to that self-doubting voice, but that was in my crush-fueled delusions, not real life. In real life, Dad would hate us.
“Wait,” I gasp, breaking the kiss off and pushing my hands against his chest.
He leans back slightly, keeping his hand an inch from my sex. His lips are red from the kissing, and his slightly wet hair falls down his forehead almost to his eyes, adding to the uncaged look. His heart pounds against my hand, his solid chest bulging, expanding fiercely.
“I can’t,” he says huskily after a pause.
When he leans toward me again, I grab his T-shirt and pull him closer. Our kissing gets more passionate, and then, oh, God… and then he drives his hand against my sex, rubbing through my pants, grinding it up and down as I try to convince myself this is real.
My crush, the man I’ve written so many wishes for, the man I’ve drawn so many hearts for…
He massages my sex, my folds aching, my clit pulsing as he applies more pressure with the heel of his hand. Our teeth collide in the franticness of pleasure, but then our tongues find each other again. He rubs me quicker, harder, growling more than groaning through the kiss now.
When his fingers fiddle with my pants button, I know this is the point, the definitive no-turning-back place. This is the part where I say, Stop, seriously, for real. I mean it, but then he’s undone the button, his hand slipping beneath my panties.
“I need to feel your naked pussy,” he snarls, voice trembling, his whole body shaking.
Again, I repeat his words silently, letting them echo through my thoughts to convince myself I heard him correctly. I don’t have to wonder for long. His fingers stroke over my clit, and he leans back as if wanting to watch me as he slides his hand lower, down my folds, and to my entrance. He moves around it in circles. The sensation is more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced. That’s not saying much, but it’s still the truth. He pushes against my hole. His lips curve into a smirk, but his eyes are savage and focused.
“You’re so. Fucking. Soaked.”
“Hmm.”
I nod, moaning, the only thing I’m capable of. My lips couldn’t form words for all the money in the world.
“And…” He lets out a shaky, deep breath. “Tight too. Your hole is so tight, Evie. Do you think you could take my dick?”
Panic strikes me, but then he pushes his finger into my entrance, widening my walls as he slides slickly, deeper and deeper. He’s filling me up, and then he pushes down with his hand again, grinding my clit at the same time. He fingers me slowly, the heel of his hand moving against my clit, the pleasure combining as a warm glowing orb inside me.
I don’t know what to do. Well, I do, but I can’t do it. I can’t tell him to stop or tell him it’s enough. It will never be enough until I’m naked and he’s on top of me, his manhood gliding into my body. There will be no nerves, no doubt, no questioning. Nothing but pleasure… I hope.
“You’re going to come all over my hand,” he says, making it a statement rather than a request. “I can feel it. You’re going to let all your horny young juices go, aren’t you?”
“Y-y-y…”
My voice shudders, speech impossible as I try to summon it. It’s as if all my energy is fixated on the motion of his finger, pushing somehow deeper, finding a place inside I’ve never felt before, a warm glowing, sizzling, tingling, steamy…
I’m running out of words, out of thought. Nothing else exists except for the feeling, his finger moving in circles deep within, teasing at this new place.
“That’s it,” he growls. “You’re so close. I can feel it. Good girl, Evie. Come for me.”
Come for Uncle Brian.
Obviously, he doesn’t say that, but the vicious thought stabs into the perfection, and then, worse—a flashing image of Dad, tears flowing down his cheeks, his expression twisted in anger.
Then everything disappears and ceases to exist, except for the heat between my legs. He fingers me quicker and quicker and then slips another finger into me, my walls expanding even more, my hole feeling like it’s fluttering and getting ready.
“Yes, yes,” he roars, moving his whole hand in my pants, grinding my clit.
My head is blurry. I expect to wake up on the sidewalk, concerned pedestrians staring down at me after the fight with Keith. It wasn’t just an argument. He hit me, and now I’m hallucinating. Nothing else makes sense, but the orgasm does. It convinces me. I scream in pure release as I float into a world of pleasure, squeezing my thighs around his finger, trembling.
