My Heart

I imagine him pressing his hand against my core, grinding it back and forth as he stares at me. Sliding my hand down my body, I push it into my PJ bottoms and press down on my clit.

I don’t let myself think about what I’m doing, knowing the guilt will ruin it.

In my mind, Triston is gazing at me, his eyes narrowed, his—

Knock-knock.

I quickly snatch my hand away, sitting up. This is wrong. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again. As Alexis and I watched movies together, I promised I wouldn’t think about Triston like that, much less touch myself.

“Hello?” I say, walking across the room.

I open the door, expecting to find Alexis standing there.

But I’m surprised to find Triston.

He’s wearing shorts and nothing else, his mouth-watering chest on display, his stomach a sheet of rock hard abs, each indentation well-defined. A V-shape leading down to his manhood. Every single inch of him looks carved with muscles.

His eyes are narrow, his jaw tight, his fists clenched.

Is he going to tell me to leave?

My gaze flits down to his shorts.

No freaking way.

I must be seeing things.

A huge outline shows just how hard he is, the fabric of the shorts pitching upward. I swallow at the size of him, wondering what’s got him so excited.

Does he even realize?

“Where’s Alexis?” I mutter.

It’s the only thing I can think to say, the only thing that seems appropriate.

“She fell asleep on the couch,” he snarls. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?”

He walks into the room. My reflex takes me back, our steps in rhythm. Closing the door behind him, he glares at me, just like in my fantasy.

“Because you’re Alexis’s friend. Because you’re over twenty years younger than me. Because this could get very, very complicated.”

He’s still approaching me, our steps in unison as I back away. His forearms flex and his veins press against his skin. It’s like he’s going to explode.

“What could get complicated?” I whimper, as I bump into the wall, nowhere else to go.

“I tried to fight it,” he says huskily. “All day and night. For two long weeks. I’ve tried to fight it. But I can’t, not now when you’re under my roof. You drive me crazy, Tamia. You make me so damn hard.”

I swallow. “I do?”

He smirks, his gaze flitting over me. “Feel what you do to me.”

I gasp as he grabs my wrist, bringing my hand to his front. I never would’ve had the courage to do that, even if I wanted to. He slides my hand up and down, letting me feel him, all of him, his massive hardness pressing against my palm.

“Fuck, your hand feels so good,” he groans.

I start to move on my own, driven by the groaning growl in his voice, his pleasure driving me.

He tilts his head toward me. “You want it, don’t you. You want it as badly as I do.”

It’s like my hand has a mind of its own now, as though the force deep within is driving me. “We shouldn’t.”

“I know,” he says.

Then he leans down, bringing his lips toward mine.

I freeze as our lips collide, a distant part of my mind wonders what would happen if Alexis woke up and decides to come to my room. But mostly all I can focus on is the feeling of his lips, the way they press against mine, their roughness, and their confidence.

Slowly, I start to move mine in time with his, opening my mouth. Our tongues find each other as though he’s a magnet and I’m metal.

He groans, making deep muffled noises, as his hands slide around my body, pressing down on the small of my back.

I gasp as he squeezes me, pushing forward, his manhood grinding against my belly. My core gives a pulse. And suddenly the thought of being together doesn’t seem so ridiculous.

As I grab onto his bare shoulders, digging my fingernails in, the idea of my body knowing what to do – guiding me – feels so right I could scream.

My pussy is wet and throbbing, my clit hot and needy.

“Fuck,” Triston growls, breaking off the kiss but keeping his face pressed against mine, staring fiercely into my eyes. “You feel perfect.”

His hands slide down to my ass, sinking his fingers in, squeezing, causing me to whimper and shiver.

“Is this really happening?” I whisper.

He slides his hands up and under my PJ bottoms, pressing his palms against my naked flesh. My pussy tingles, my body feeling like it’s on fire as he indulgently massages my ass.

“Does it feel like a dream?”

“No,” I whisper. “But—”

He cuts off my concerns with a kiss, more intense the first time, steamier.

I forget about everything except for the feel of his body.

No, that’s not right.

I almost forgot.

But there’s a small voice in the back of my mind, whispering fiercely, telling me I can’t do this, telling me I’m making a mistake.