I close my eyes and an image pounds into the empty space, jolting me with its force. The shock landing makes my eyes startle open again, finding Seb’s stare waiting for me.
My body arches, getting close, my hand steadily pumping his cock as his eyes drill ever deeper into mine.
I want to turn away, the gaze penetrating too deep, but he shifts his hand to my chin, holding me steady, making me feel like I’m splayed on a public bench, exposed for the world to see.
His question hangs, tension increasing, and I would shake my head if he didn’t have my face held in a vice.
“No.” A shiver wants to break free, but I steel myself until it eases. “He’s no longer in the picture.”
There’s a long pause and he releases my chin. “I don’t want you to be with any other guys.”
“Of course not,” I say through gritted teeth, then open my jaw wide, biting into the meat where his neck hits his shoulder.
Far harder than the bite to his lip. My incisors sink into his flesh, a small shuddering drag from the friction. Then I ease up, curling my cheek to rest against the indents now filling his skin with the crimson bruise of blood. My face presses into the shadows, hiding. Hiding the expressions he reads far too easily.
Against his neck, I whisper, “I don’t want you to be with other girls.”
That’s what he wants, the possessive declaration. The moment its last syllable leaves my lips, his gasp is in my ear.
His hand leaves my chin to cover my fingers, working him harder and faster than I had been alone. Pumping rougher than I’d dare, squeezing his quads so the alternating tension forms another layer of joyous friction against my clit.
I try to hold, try to match him, but my thighs grip on his, hard as pliers, the spasming muscles setting off a tumultuous burst of pleasure that ricochets around my body.
My limp torso sags, my body bouncing as the pace of the hand covering mine increases. A last pull from stern to head and his cock contracts before jerking upwards, long ropes of cum hitting against my cheek, my exposed breast, dripping onto my fingers, as I continue to pump him dry.
When he’s finished, I lift my hand, tongue snaking across the back, licking until the taste of him floods my mouth.
Seb pulls me against him, the two of us falling back upon his mattress, his legs far more slowly lifting to lie lengthways, his hand clamped around my upper thigh, covering my cut, my scars.
My eyes close, my brain sliding briefly into a comforting doze before I start awake, stiff muscles softening as Seb nuzzles against my neck, fingers curling into my hair.
He rouses long enough to fetch a washcloth, soaked in warm water, using it to clean any lingering traces of his release from me, before he tosses it in the laundry and settles back into place behind me, hugging me close.
“Shh. You can go to sleep.”
And as I do, a buzz lingers in the back of my neck, a twist of shame eerily similar to when I tell a lie.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
ESME
Close on two weeks later,I’m hunched over against the cold with my butt protesting being parked on hard plastic slats for an hour.
“Why are we watching this if they’re just running drills?” I grumble to Rowena as fifteen strapping young men run sprints across the field like they’re stuck in some shortened version of Groundhog Day. “Shouldn’t we save our school spirit for the games?”
“How dare you suggest I don’t have enough school spirit to last for all activities,” Rowena says with an extra helping of faux outrage. “And I don’t even understand the finer points of our national game. Do you?”
“No,” I admit, tilting my head slightly as Seb hits the marker on the side, then turns, running backwards, without even a second’s pause.
His dexterity is quite amazing. I’m fit enough to run for a bus but that’s about it. If I tried to turn on a dime like that, I’d need to do a three-point manoeuvre to get all the way around.
“See,” Rowena says with glee, elbowing me in the ribs. “You understand it, girl. I see where your eyes are looking.”
“I’m just admiring the athleticism.”
“Exactly. And you’re asking why we’re here? To admire them all day long, that’s why.”
I hook my arm through hers, giggling in agreement. The boys spread out across the field do make for a pretty sight. “Is this why people become cheerleaders?” I wonder aloud. “So they get to spend every team practice ogling from the side-lines.”
