Dreams of 18

It just makes me more shameless and lusty.

It just makes me moan into his mouth continuously.

I feel him walking then, going through the bathroom door, striding down the hallway and entering a room – his room, most likely. But through all this, I don’t stop kissing him or moaning and rubbing my hands all over his face and rubbing my pussy over his stomach.

But then, I have to stop.

Because he breaks the kiss and launches me in the air.

I fall on the bed a split second later and scramble up on my elbows. I look up at him, at his harsh, panting form, and a pulse goes through my core.

He stands tall at the foot of his bed. His chest is flushed a dark hue and his entire body is heaving, juddering up and down, all bathed in sweat.

While I’m running my eyes over his body, he has his glued to my chest. By some miracle, my dress is still up and around my breasts – it’s the zipper around the back, I think – but it’s sagging.

The straps lie limply around my arms and I have a feeling that it won’t take much to bare my heaving breasts to him.

“Graham?” I call out his name when it looks like he’s not going to say anything.

Actually, it looks like he’ll never say anything because he’s just so lost in his staring.

He looks up now, though and inhales a heavy breath.

Then he gets on the bed. And he does it in a way that the whole frame shakes. The mattress dips under his weight, sags and submits like my dress did, back in the bathroom.

“I’m going to do one other thing to you, Violet,” he repeats, kneeling in front of me but still towering.

“What?” I ask, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He licks his lips as he bends down. Down and down, as if descending on me, until our foreheads are almost touching. Until I can’t see anything of his room, not the walls, not the ceiling, nothing at all except him and his darkly flushed face.

Clamping his jaw tight, he grabs hold of my dress.

My spine arches with the force of it. He pulls at my dress with both hands, bent over me like a beast from the mountains.

“I’m going to make you my slut,” he growls, tugging the dress down and it goes easily.

In a second, I’m bared to him and his gaze drops to my breasts.

I’ve always thought they were average. They were small and nothing to go crazy over.

But he’s going crazy over them. I can see that.

He likes the shape of them, the size, the paleness of them. And I know he likes my nipples. They’re cherry-red too. Hard and tight and rude, sticking up like that. Sticking up for him.

He swallows tightly and looks up. “You want to be my slut, don’t you?”

I nod and fist the sheets. “Yes.”

“I’ll make you my slut, Violet,” he whispers, coming even closer to me, his hands on my ribs now, spread wide, just under my breasts. “I’ll make you scream like a slut. You know how I’m going to do that?”

I’m breathing so hard that I’m actually shaking with it. I’m rolling my hips already, undulating my spine, making my breasts jiggle.

“How?”

“I’m going to give you your birthday kiss.” He licks his lower lip again like he’s imagining it. “The kiss I wanted to give you as soon as you turned eighteen. The kiss I couldn’t stop thinking about while I was on that useless date.”

I’m pretty sure he can feel my heart right now. He can feel it bouncing around in my rib cage, pounding against the bones and muscles, probably pounding against the palm of his hands.

“The date you were on?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that why… you came back early?”

“I came home early because I wanted to see you. Up on the roof. At midnight. But you weren’t on the roof, were you?”

“No.”

“Where were you?”

He digs the pads of his fingers into my ribs and my heart shifts there, where his hands are. Banging inside my body. “I was stealing your roses.”

“Yeah, you were. Because you wanted your gift from me.”

I nod. “Uh-huh.”

“So I’m going to give it to you now. I’m going to give you your special birthday gift.” He presses down on my body and I realize he wants me to lie down, so I do.

“And you’re going to scream, isn’t that right?”

I lie down on his bed and put my head on his pillow and almost drown in his scent, his musky, outdoorsy scent. “I will.”

“Yeah.” He hovers over me now, his hand on my stomach. “You’ll scream so loud that everyone will hear you. They’ll hear you screaming for me. Everyone back in Connecticut will hear you, won’t they? Everyone who made you cry and called you names. The ones I keep wanting to destroy every five seconds. They’ll hear it and they’ll know. They’ll know what I’m doing to you. You’ll make them hear it, won’t you?”