I’m already wondering what she looks like naked, imagining what her tits look like bare, with no swimsuit in the way. Picturing how perfectly they’d fit in my hands. I kind of want to kiss her again. Getting a girl fully naked and making out are not things I normally think about.
I unzip my jeans before ripping the condom open with my teeth. Releasing my throbbing cock from its denim prison is a temporary relief. I pinch the tip of the condom and roll it on, glancing at Wren. She’s watching me, her profile silhouetted by the mirror as she leans against the wall beside Wade’s dresser. There’s something sexy about her stillness. About how intentional this all feels, like she showed up tonight with the sole purpose of this happening and is waiting for me to follow through.
I walk over to her, battling an unexpected barrage of uncertainty, not stopping until our bodies are pressed together. I can hear her breathing. Feel her body heat. Smell her shampoo or perfume—some floral, expensive scent that doesn’t belong in Wade’s messy room.
I rest my left hand on the wall next to her head, cupping my right around her throat. I can feel the steady thrum of her pulse pressed against my palm. She swallows once, her neck muscles contracting quickly. Her expression is shadowed by my head, and I suddenly wish I’d left the lamp on. I can’t tell if she’s anxious I’ll hurt her or aroused by the possessive grip. I doubt the one percent spends their summer parties whispering about townie scandals—I never told her my last name, even if they do—but it’s possible she’s heard the rumors about my father. If she has, she’d be afraid.
My grip relaxes. My hand slides lower, cupping her left breast. I was right—the curve fits my palm perfectly.
“Fast and hard, huh?”
I nearly smile, hiding it with a scowl as I drop my hand to the hem of her dress. I fist the fabric roughly, shoving it up to her hip before moving my hand to the heat between her legs. She’s soaking wet, the strip of lace clinging to her pussy.
She’s as affected by me as I am by her. Reassuring. Also loosens my grip on control.
“Impatient?” I taunt back. “Those rich boys really can’t do anything right. Do you always have to fake it?”
“You’re an?—”
She gasps when I locate her clit, pinching the swell of swollen nerves.
“Call me an asshole one more time, Wren.”
“You started it,” she mutters.
It’s bad for both of us that I find her impertinence so intriguing.
I finger her through the lace for a minute, conflicted between teasing her longer and ending the torture I’m inflicting on myself. Once a breathy moan slips out, the decision is made for me. All the blood in my body must be in my dick by now. I was planning to just tug her underwear to one side, but I yank the lace down to her knees for better access. Gravity pulls them lower.
“Move,” Wren says, planting her hands on my chest and giving me a light shove.
I’m surprised enough to step back because I’m always the one issuing orders in these situations.
She bends down, lifting one foot and then the other, freeing her thong. I’m unreasonably relieved she hasn’t changed her mind about this. Ridiculously aroused by the sight of her blonde head bobbing so close to my crotch.
When she straightens, I kiss her roughly, breaking my own rule. This is the only time we’ll do this—might as well indulge more. She’s already kissed me twice. Initiating it once is just about evening the score. Her tongue twines around mine, and I imagine it caressing the crown of my cock. If I wasn’t already painfully hard, I would be now.
Wren bites my bottom lip, hard enough to sting, but not rough enough to draw blood, and my dick jerks.
I reach between us, guiding my erection between her legs. She feelsit, rubs against it, and the room suddenly smells like sex.
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” I urge. “Like—yeah.”
When shewantsto be, Wren’s compliant.
I palm her ass with one hand, guiding my cock to her entrance with the other, scowling when I realize I’m showing off. That I’m more focused on this being memorable for her than on getting off.
“Motherfucker,” she hisses.
I still, a Herculean task, considering Wren has the tightest pussy I’ve ever felt and I’m only a couple of inches in.
“You okay?” I manage to ask between deep breaths.
I could come from the warm clench of her cunt around the tip of my cock, but I don’t want to. I want to be buried inside her when it happens, and I want her to come too.
In answer, Wren winds an arm around my neck and pulls my mouth back to hers. The kiss is softer and slower this time, not nearly as desperate. Vulnerable almost.
“Keep going,” she whispers, then kisses me again.
