“So do I,” I say. “I’m proud of you. You care.”
“I would never let them hurt you,” he says, prowling across the room toward me.
There’s so much wrapped up in this, like emotion and lust, all of it meshed together. My body responds as hungrily as my heart, my clit getting warmer the closer he gets, and my lips more sensitive.
He pauses as he looms over me, staring down. His jaw is tight. His body is throbbing, his heaving chest looking like it might tear his shirt to ribbons.
“I need you so, so badly,” his voice deepens. “I need to taste you, Fiona, all of you.”
I don’t know what to say, and then I don’t have to say anything. His lips crash into mine again. We’re lost in that world, that place where the only thing that matters is the heat of the other person.
He slides his hand up the back of my leg, his palm against my bare flesh, tickling and teasing the higher he gets.
My body shivers against him. It’s not like I do it. It’s more like my body knows what to do, how to respond somehow.
It was like we were made for this.
But as he gets closer to my sex, I can’t stop thinking about my secret. I need to tell him soon, rather than waiting for things to progress, for our bodies to get heated and needy, and then tell him.
What if he calls me a cock tease?
I cry out when his hand pushes against my sex, his fingers driving against my panties, my clit. All my thoughts vanish, and suddenly all I can contemplate is this feeling, his strong hand pushing harder and firmer.
“Fuck, you’re a receptive sexy young thing, aren’t you?”
His breath moves over me as he speaks, across my cheeks and down my neck. I look into his eyes, unable to answer. I can’t tell him the truth.
I have no idea. I don’t know what I’m doing.
I know what I’m feeling, though, and my body wants more of it. I shift against him, grinding up and down. The corners of his lips twitch in a savage smirk as he pulls on my panties. He slides them down around my knees, then his hand is on my bare pussy, toying with my clit and lips.
I whimper and collapse against him, digging my fingernails into his chest. My other hand claws onto his shoulder, my fingernails bending against his muscles.
“This is so much better than texting,” he whispers in my ear as his finger explores my soaked entrance. “I wouldn’t be able to feel how fucking wet you are. You horny thing. I thought I was the only one going crazy.”
“N-n-no,” I moan, finding it difficult to force the word out. “I want it.”
I want this to keep going, I mean, but too late do I realize what he might have heard instead. I want it, as in go all the way. I want to open my legs and take his cock inside of me, everything he has to give.
It’s the truth. I want that.
But can I do it? Will I know what to do?
“I can feel how close you are already,” he smears my wetness over my lips, then returns his feral attention to my clit. “You’re going to come for me. I can feel it.”
“I…I….”
There’s no way I can finish the sentence. All I can think about is the heat swelling from the ends of his fingertips, moving outward, engulfing my entire lower half in pleasure as I’ve never felt.
I move in time with him, my hips possessed by the crazed need for release.
“That’s it,” he urges. “You horny fucking girl. My perfect mystery girl.”
“Yes, yes,” I scream.
I don’t know what happens. It’s like the euphoria erupts inside of me, a balloon pops in my belly, and then it drenches every part of me.
I’m steaming and sizzling and boiling up from the inside, my legs shaking, my being collapsing against Felix.
He catches me, my body and my soul, my everything.
His hand never stops moving on my clit. My insides are scorched. He rubs hard, moving his whole arm, as the searing sensation completely takes hold of me.
I’m his prisoner. I don’t want to be released.
That will lead to other things, things I might not be able to face.
“Fucking hell.”
His hands are on my hips, guiding me to the couch. He pushes me down softly and then falls to his knees, staring up at me.
From this angle, his shoulders look even stronger. His eyes flare twin blue flames.
“I need to taste all of you, remember,” he growls.
Gripping my legs in his unyielding hands, he pulls them apart. His face twists as he gazes at my sex. My heart flutters, thinking maybe he’s disappointed.
But then a wolfish satisfaction touches him. He leans closer, closer.
“You even smell tangy and perfect. I bet you taste good too.”