Why did I come here? I stare at the space over her shoulder, at the house where her brother is. Same brother who told me to leave her alone.
I let out a sigh and eye her. I’m dying here. I need to get away from her. “You should get inside.”
As if she’s insulted, she sneaks a glance at the house behind her and the car in the driveway. “I’d rather not. Avie’s in there, and he’s gonna wanna know why I’m half-dressed.”
“Are your jeans dry yet?”
She shifts her stance, her breath escaping like steam rising. “It’s fifty degrees outside. Doubt it.”
A puff of laughter escapes my lips. She’s snarkier than I imagined she’d be, but then again, I expected that too. She searches my face. I can’t stop the need to have her again. It’s so bad I unintentionally move closer to her, taking the clothes in her arms. I drop them on the ground and reach for her hand.
“What?” She stares at her hand in mine.
The energy between us so magnetic it pulses through me in waves, staggering my thoughts and taking my words with it. This girl is going to be the death of me. “Come with me.” I lead her around the side of the house, out of view and into the shadows. Darkness fills the space between the house and the garage, the wet grass slippery with each step.
“You know, you owe me one since this is only about sex.” She backs up against the house, and I take a step closer, unable to keep distance between us. Her voice lowers. “I didn’t get off.”
I brush the hair off her neck and lower my mouth to her ear. “Then how about I make it up to you?” Her scent fills my senses, the consuming desire to have her again unavoidable. It’s enough I’m aching against the zipper of my jeans at the idea of fucking her again.
As I trail my hand up the inside of her thigh, she catches my wrist. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you off,” I say, scraping my teeth against her ear. I grab her by the jaw, force her to look at me. “Are you going to stop me?”
Her eyes widen with fear, but underneath it, I know there’s desire. She wants this from me. “No,” she mumbles, searching my face.
“Good,” I hiss through gritted teeth. I tilt her face to mine and kiss salty lips.
I lift her shirt up, and her body shifts into mine, her neck arching, giving my mouth better access. With my fingers at her slit, she gasps, dropping her head forward. I swirl my fingertips, teasing. Her thighs flex when I plunge them inside, her walls clenching, greedily wanting to be filled. She slides her hands up my back, around to my chest. I feel her nipples against me. Hard pebbles. I think about lifting her shirt higher and kneading her perfect tits in my hand, but I don’t. I know if I do, the reminder of why I need to stay away from her will surface. And I’m too selfish to let that happen.
With one hand on the house, I explore between her legs with the other. Wetness coats my fingers. She takes a fistful of my shirt, trying to pull me closer. My blood pumps faster as I press down on her clit with my thumb. She fucks my hand, grinding against me. I draw her earlobe between my teeth, sucking. Her movements grow frantic, desperate even.
As she moans, her nails dig into my shoulders. “Don’t stop,” she breathes, when I slip on the grass and have to stop for a second. I drive my fingers deeper, penetrating her, a surge of emotion tightening my throat.
I kiss my way back up to her jaw. “I won’t.” I straighten, wanting to see her come because of me. And when she does, beautiful doesn’t do it justice. I want my mouth on her. I want to suck all these juices from her sweet cunt and remember the taste.
My need, it’s primal, bloody, unhinged and desperate to consume, to own, to be anything to her. I drop to my knees and yank her thighs apart. “Look what you do to me,” I growl against her clit just before I suck it into my mouth. I bury my tongue inside her, fucking her with my fingers and mouth. My knuckles whiten, my pulse thuds in my years, her sweet juices coating my chin. This girl, this innocent, fragile