And the way his lip curls says it all.
His lips go straight for the soft spot on my neck, while his hand slides up my thigh, fingers stroking just slow. I squeeze my thighs together, the wetness between my thighs growing wetter.
I take his chin in my hand, kissing him hard, as I breatheagainst his lips, “I wasn’t hungry until we fucked… but now I’m starving. Which means you’re waiting til’ after dinner pretty boy.”
“I already filled you up, and you’re still hungry? My sweet Jainey’s got an appetite tonight…”
His gaze drops to where his hand is creeping higher on my thigh, and yes—I’m fighting the burning sensation, but I’m not giving in that easy. I like making him wait for it—sometimes.
It’s like watching him turn feral, the kind of wild that doesn’t want to hurt me, just ruin me until I forget what being human feels like.
“Oh, you have no idea,” I smirk, grabbing his hand before he can start something neither of us is finishing in this damn parking lot.
Dinner ’s a blur; I can’t tell you what we ordered or how it even tasted. The only flavor I remember is him—his chocolate brown eyes locked on mine across the table, his foot brushing my leg underneath the booth, and his cocky little smirk every time I squirmed in my seat.
Every look, every touch reminds me of what his hands already claimed—and what they’re eager to claim again once we’re back in his room.
The second the check’s paid, we’re gone.
? ? ?
We pull into his driveway, and the quiet settles around us—still, like even the night knows what’s about to happen. His mom’s and brothers’ cars are still gone. I wonder where they are, but the idea slips off me fast. Instead, I find myselfsilently thanking them for giving us the space to get lost in each other a little longer.
Normally his house is full, so we have sex wherever we want—even outside sometimes. Once, he surprised me and drove us to this old trailer sitting in the middle of nowhere near his property. It looked abandoned, like someone forgot where they were camping.
He didn’t even know who owned it and that just made the trill of it even better. He told me he’d seen it one morning taking the back road to school and couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he would do to me in there. Luckily, the door was open when we got there, the inside looking partially lived-in, like whoever stayed there barely ever showed up.
We had sex in there forhours. Sweat dripping down our faces, heat trapped between us with only two tiny windows to breathe through.
And with the way he had me screaming his name, we both knew opening one wasn’t an option—not unless we wanted someone to hear every sound he pulled out of me.
The sun was high when we got there, and by the time we left, it was already shaking hands with the horizon.
The thought of getting caught should’ve scared me, but it didn’t.
If anything, it made everything hotter—the risk, the rush, the way it felt like we were daring for someone to find us to make the thrill even more exhilarating.
The air is still as we enter, his hand gripping mine tighter, as he drags me down the hallway. By the time we reach his door, I feel the shift in the air—and the way he shuts it, tells me I won’t be walking properly when I leave here.
I love letting him take charge—desire burns hotbetween my legs just from the thought of what he has planned. So caught up in my own head, I didn’t realize his room doesn't even look like his room anymore.
Candles flicker along his desk, shadows dancing like they have their own secrets. The bed is covered in red rose petals, a view straight out of a movie scene I never thought I’d be starring in.
And then I hear our song.“Snot Thot” by Kodak Blackplays low from his speaker. Every beat a ghost of us—our laughter, our little moments, our car rides, clinging to me like every memory made sound.
I’m not used to anyone trying this hard to make me feel like I’m worth something. Not my mom, not my so-called friends—no one.
But he looks at me like I’m worth holding onto. Like I’m more than the mistakes I make or the mess I come with.
And I almost believe it.
But my mind somehow always ruins the magic, reminding me that I’ve believed in this before—the glow, the promise that this love is finally different from the kind everyone else claimed they had for me.
I want to drown in it, to believe every second. But the echo in my chest whispers loud;fairytales don’t belong to broken girls.Even the brightest nights have shadows lurking, waiting to snuff the light out.
But fuck that.
Tonight, I’m not letting old ghosts of people who left—take this from me. With him, I feel wanted. Seen. Loved. And I’m holding on like the world might disappear if I let go.
