Trey
RUNRUNRUN – Dutch Melrose
What the actual fuck am I doing?
I have tophysicallyforce my hands to stay flat on the mattress. Every instinct in me is screaming—touch her, fuck boy, just one more taste.I want to pull her in, tilt her chin, and kiss her until she forgets what air feels like.
Bite, lick, suck and fuck.
But…I don’t.
My palms stay where they are, pressed into the bed, tendons straining like they’re holding back an earthquake.
Because if I move—if I let myself go even an inch—I’ll wreck it.
I’ll wreckher.
It was just a kiss. One. Single. Kiss.
But fee-fi-fucking hell…my cock’s reacting like a golden retriever whose owner just came home from war.
She’s beautiful.
Not just the kind of beautiful that stops you dead—but the kind that undoes you.
Untouched. Disconnected from the filth of the world in a way no one is anymore. Innocent, but not naïve.
Thatkiss—Christ, that kiss—she kissed me like she was stepping off a cliff and trusting I’d be there to catch her.
My cock gotexcited.
For a kiss.
A fucking kiss.
What’s next, candlelit confessions and a rosary kink?
Jesus Christ. Bro’s got a thing for nuns now.
She’s still there,my Dove. Her copper hair spills over the pillow like fire licking through darkness. Her skin is porcelain, soft and perfect, except for the few bruises she tries to hide. The kind of fragile that makes you want to handle her with both hands. Those eyes…God, those eyes. Wide open, full of everything she’s never said out loud. The kind of eyes that make you want to fight, burn,bleedjust to make sure they never go dull.
Her lips. Soft. Pink. Still trembling from where they pressed against mine—her first kiss—and she gave it tome.
Trusted me with it.
Unless, of course, everything she’s said is a lie, and she’s been passed from pillar to pew, making out and wanking off the entire congregation. Still, kind of hot. Crazy—but hot.
I drag in a slow breath, pulse hammering. My body doesn’t care about vows or innocence, it only knows what it wants. But my heart—my head—they know better.
This, unfortunately, solidifies my view. She’s too good for the things that live inside me. Too untouched for what my hands are used to.
I could take more.God, I want to. But I won’t. I can’t. Not with her. Not when one wrong move could ruin her in ways she’ll never come back from.
I can’t sit here any longer. The air between us is too charged, too tight, and if I stay...
I push up from the bed, moving before I can second-guess it. My hands need something to do, anything to keep from reaching for her. A robe hangs from the back of the door, soft white cotton, and I pull it down, pressing it into her hands.
“Here,” I say, voice rougher than I mean it to be. “You’ll be more comfortable.”Her fingers curl around the fabric, her eyes lifting to mine—uncertain, questioning—but she doesn’t argue. She just holds it to her chest like she is naked before me.
