I grab her cheek with one hand and pull her closer, searching her eyes for any hint of hesitation, but it seems as if she’s sure.
I lean in, glancing at her lips before I do. Then I kiss her. Eyes open, watching as I steal her breath away.
She tastes like candy, and then I taste the vodka and whiskey. Her lips are soft, thick, and full of no regrets.
I grab the back of her head, seeking permission with my tongue now. She allows me in, using her tongue to test how I feel. Then she moans into my mouth, and a new hunger begins.
My hand slips down to her neck so that I can rip her away from me. Otherwise, I’m going to get lost in the island of Cecily, and I can’t afford that.
She bites her lip once we disconnect, and then she grabs my wrist that’s still holding her throat.
“Do you always taste like candy?” I ask, gazing into her eyes.
She leans back and pulls out her lip gloss, applying another layer as I stare. “I don’t know. So how was the kiss?”
The question brings me back to reality, reminding me that this started as some experiment—a test to see if it would be weird between us.
I inhale, looking forward. It was oddly natural.
“Wanna meet me in the backseat?” she whispers into the sudden quiet of the truck.
I look over at her, and I can feel heat creeping up my neck. This is really happening. I open my door so fast I nearly fall out of the truck. By the time I make it to the back, she’s already climbed over the center console and is waiting for me with a smile that’s pure trouble.
“Cecily,” I say, slamming the door shut and immediately reaching for her face again. This face that I see almost every day, that I’ve never thought about kissing or holding or wondering what these lips would taste like.
She leans closer, resting her palm on my thigh, and laughs softly. “You’re a good kisser.”
“So are you.”
“Really?” She looks genuinely surprised. “I doubt it.”
I reach up and gently circle my fingers around her throat—not squeezing, just holding—and look into her eyes for permission. They soften, giving me the only answer I need.
I lean in this time, stronger. More urgent. I need to taste her again. I need to hear that gasp leave her chest. I start to suck on her lips. Her tongue. She returns the fight with her own force, sucking my lips and tongue.
My dick swells in my pants.
I’ve never wanted anyone this bad before, and now red flags are flying in my vision.
“Cecily,” I breathe.
She pecks my mouth, my cheek, and then her teeth are grazing my neck. “Yes?” Her hands explore my body, touching my abs, my chest, my arms. And then she travels south. “May I?”
I lean back, desperate for air that’s refusing to fill my lungs. “Ce,” I mutter as she stops on the button. “Are you sure?”
She bites her lips and nods.
She unbuttons my pants, and her hand slides in slowly. Her eyes watch mine as she pushes her palm against my raging boner.
“Oh my god,” she says, grabbing onto my dick.
I pant at the feel of her soft hands groping me.
“Holy shit, Dylan,” she gasps, sliding up and down my cock. “You’re so fucking big.”
I almost chuckle, but it feels way too good to fucking laugh right now.
“You’re so...” She tries to pull me free so she can see, and I have to lift my hips to help her push my jeans down. When I spring free, her eyes go wide. “Jesus.”
