Groaning, he buries his face in my neck. “You smell so good. Like. Like…” He searches for the words as he runs his hands slowly up and down my back.
“…baby powder,” I fill in for him, sighing into his hair and threading my arms around his neck. My palms run lightly over his bent shoulders, memorizing every smooth contour of this boy’s sinewy muscles—this shy boy who kisses me so sweetly that my heart could actually burst from the joy of it all. This shy and cautious boy who makes me feel beautiful.
Wanted.
Confident.
Like I steal his breath away.
The way he steals away mine.
Caleb
But you’re here.
But you’re here…
Her words—those three simple little words—are a fucking arrow aimed straight at my gut. I reach for her, uninhibited now by those three simple words, and walk her back, back, until she’s pressed against the shoddy kitchen stove. Reaching to cup her face, I groan and bury my face in her neck, inhaling the sweet musk of her hair.
“You smell so good. Like. Like…” I search for the words and run my hands slowly up and down her back, imprinting myself on the delicate spine hidden under her thin gray tee shirt.
“…baby powder.” She supplies the words, sighing into my hair when she threads those toned, porcelain arms around my neck. Abby’s palms skim lightly over my taunt shoulders, and the pleasure from this timid gesture discharges sparks from my shoulders, straight to my cock. This shy, beautiful girl who is tenderly kissing me in the middle of her shitty kitchen, in her crooked shamble of a rental, who overlooks the fact that I’m an awkward, edgy piece of shit.
She makes me feel... protective. Virile. Wanted.
Like I steal her breath away.
The way she steals away mine.
Abby sighs into me, and my hands automatically go to her hips, pull her closer, and lift her off the ground. When I set her on the stove top, she immediately scoots forward, pressing into me, wrapping her long legs around my hips. With a quick flick of her wrist, she knocks my ball cap to the floor and her fingers through my hair.
She kneads my thick strands, tugging.
“I’m never wearing that fucking hat again.” A groan rumbles from my chest as my lips seek the soft, warm skin behind her ear.
She moans. “Shut up. I like it.”
Whoa.
My nostrils flare and our mouths collide for wet, wide, open-mouthed kisses. Abby’s tongue laps at my lips like they’re covered with sugar. We kiss and kiss and kiss, and I rotate my hockey player hips, grinding my hard dick into the apex of her spread thighs. The motion rocks the stove, and it occasionally hits the wall behind it with a hollow, metallic bang.
Just as her hand begins tugging the polo shirt from the waistband of my jeans, the kitchen door flies open and Jenna stumbles in, holding up her keys and giggling. She halts in the threshold. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth, and her eyes widen with shock. Two seconds later, in walks…
Fucking. Cubby.
“Holy shit, Showtime. Do the two of you do anything but grind on each other with your clothes on?” Cubby asks without ceremony, breaking the stunned silence. Neither of our friends even have the common courtesy to look apologetic at having caught us, uh… doing what we do best.
His eyes dart down to my discarded hat on the floor, and he bends at the waist, scooping it up and dangling it toward me with his forefinger. He offers it over. “Here. You must have dropped this when you started fake fucking.”
“Oh my god,” Abby mumbles, mortified, burying her face in my neck.
I take the hat and place it on my head, backwards.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask through narrowed eyes, glancing from him to Jenna, who’s watching Abby and me with open interest. She definitely looks buzzed—but then again, so does Cubby.
“I’m here to do Jenna. What the hell are you doing here?” He cackles, grabbing Jenna by the waist. He tickles her and she slaps his roaming hands away with a, “Stop it, Chester, save it for the bedroom.”
Chester?
Jesus. Christ.
“As much as I’d love to comment on this whole…” Jenna waves her hand around airily “…whatever this is, we’ll just leave you two kids alone. Come on, Cubby.” Jenna takes his hand and tugs him through the kitchen. “My bedroom is this way.”
Cubby gives me a salute then gives Jenna a light slap on the ass. They disappear down the hallway, giggling and bumping into the walls. A few moments later, a door opens and slams shut, leaving the kitchen quiet, save, of course, for the muffled laughter now coming from the other room.
“I can’t even,” Abby says, raising her head from my chest. Her pupils are still dilated and her cheeks are flushed, but she gives me a cheeky grin.