“It’s not my secret to tell.”
“Why are you here?” I ask, my eyes boring into hers.
“I don’t know,” she whispers.
“I know why.”
I pull her T-shirt up to expose her flat stomach. Fuck, she has a belly button piercing—the dangling gold bird contrasts beautifully with her skin tone. She yanks my head closer, moaning loudly when my tongue dips into her navel before trailing kisses along the soft warm flesh. Her skin quivers beneath my lips. She sways on her feet as her breathing becomes labored. I unbutton her jeans then tug them down to expose her purple panties. My kisses travel to her pussy. She glides her fingers through my hair when I latch onto her cotton-covered clit. My hand slides under her panties to grip her bare ass, stopping her from falling when her legs buckle. The moans leaving her mouth are like music to my ears.
“Stop, this isn’t right. I can’t do this.”
“Nah, there’s no stopping now.”
She staggers back, breaking my hold on her before jerking her jeans back up. She turns to flee, but I’m right behind her. She pulls the door open to make good on her escape, but it’s too late. I slam it shut, pressing into her back. I twist my hand in her long hair, pushing the side of her face into the door.
“You’re hurting me.”
“You knew what would happen if you came in here again. You were warned,” I whisper in her ear.
“Let me go.”
“It’s too late for that now.”
I push my hand into her panties to circle her clit with the pad of my finger.
“Tell me you don’t like it, but we both know it won’t be the truth.”
She whimpers when I move my hand lower to dip into her slit. I grind my hard dick against her.
“Your pussy wouldn’t be this wet if you weren’t ready for my dick.”
I bring my hand to my nose to sniff.
“Mmm. Strawberries.”
I smear her wetness on the side of her neck before covering the area with my mouth to suck deeply. I push down her jeans and panties then I undo my zipper, freeing my dick through the opening. I detangle my hand from her hair to hoist her up, making it easier to position myself at her entrance. I begin to push forward, penetrating her tightness.
“This isn’t right.”
Tears roll down her cheeks. I’m at war with myself because, fuck, I don’t want to stop. I should keep going. She provoked me, tempted me—she knew what the fuck she was doing when she knocked on my bedroom door. I lower her to the floor and step back. She rights her clothes then grasps the doorknob. I place my palm on the door before she can open it.
“I swear on my brother, if you even glance in the direction of my bedroom again, this is happening, and more than the tip of my dick will be tunneling through your tight pussy. You can scream, cry, fight, do whatever the fuck you want, but I won’t stop until my cum is dripping from your cunt. You don’t poke the fucking bear during hibernation and not expect to be mauled when he wakes.”
With my threat hanging between us, I remove my palm to let her run from my bedroom.
Giving up on sleep, I finally leave my bedroom in frustration for a run before school starts. My thoughts are a jumbled mess as I jog down the road. I left for Trevor’s house early in the morning on New Year’s Day because I didn’t want to face Art. Though I spent the whole day there, my mind kept drifting back to him.
I’m the worst kind of girlfriend.
The moment Art’s lips touched my stomach, I could barely stand,lost in sensations I’d never felt before. Art saw right through my bullshit. He knew why I came knocking on his door, while I was in denial. Why am I drawn to someone as damaged as he is? He’s a puzzle with missing pieces.
Guilt is what stopped me that night. I wanted him… I wanted him bad. The night I invaded his privacy by going into his bedroom without being invited connected us somehow. I witnessed him at his worst, when he was most vulnerable. Part of me was hoping he wouldn’t stop so I could lay the blame solely at his feet. When I felt the pressure of his dick opening me up, the reality of what I was about to do hit me like a ton of bricks. The need to feel him inside of me and my loyalty to Trevor battled for supremacy. After arriving home last night, I couldn’t stop myself from going to Art’s bedroom door, but I didn’t dare go in. I listened while he cried out for his brother, and I ached for him. I went upstairs when I couldn’t stand to listen to his anguished cries anymore.
I see a jogger appear on the road as I make my way back to the house. I guess I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep. As I get closer to the lone figure, I recognize who it is.
Art.
We slow down to a walk, then come to a complete stop a few yards from each other. His intense green eyes don’t waver from me.
