She tastes like cherries and something I can’t identify, a taste that belongs distinctly to her and that I know I’ll never get enough of. Her soft lips move against mine, throttling my heart rate into overdrive. The heat in my body dials up to unfathomable levels, every molecule of my being coming alive and screaming for more of her.
I never let my lips leave hers as my hand slips into her jean shorts again, still open from when we started fooling around in the hallway. My fingers dance against her clit, and Isla’s hips surge forward while a cry slips from her mouth.
“Don’t tease me,” she manages to say through another moan when my hand slides down, one finger slipping into her pussy. “I can’t take…anymore. I need—”
My lips kiss down her neck, and she shivers when I suck lightly near her collarbone.
“Give me your palm.” Isla’s hand lands on mine, pushing me deeper into her shorts, until my entire palm rests against her pussy.Fuck me. I push the heel of my hand against her clit, rocking into her, as my fingers slide in and out.
She lets out a frustrated sigh. “It’s not enough. Wes—”
“What do you want from me, Isla?”
She blinks at me. “Anything I want?”
“Anything you want,” I confirm.
The response should shock me. It should shock her. After weeks of bickering, I’m putting myself into her hands, and she’s trusting me to take care of her. But there’s also an inevitability to this moment, that at some point the energy between us would spark to life and we’d need to expend it.
“Sit down.”
I don’t hesitate, settling onto the couch and spreading my arms across the back while I wait for her to make a move. In one fluid motion, Isla strides towards me, places her hands on my arm for balance, and sinks until each leg brackets my hips. She hovers over my lap, close enough that all I breathe is warm cinnamon while she traces one hand over my face.
The sight of her like this undoes me.
“Isla.” A desperate, breathy plea for her to put me out of my misery.
She leans in until her lips graze my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “Wes,” she sighs while her hand slides down the top of my chest, exposed through my partially unbuttoned shirt. My hips buck of their own volition, needing her hands on me.
Isla’s hand continues its movement down my body until she touches me through my jeans. I hiss through my teeth and try to focus on anything other than her body perched over mine. She’s in control, with full ability to bend me to her will.
“Anything I want,” she whispers in my ear, then pulls back to stare me in the eyes. She lets her sweater slowly slip from her shoulders before removing it fully and tossing it to the side.
I open my mouth to say something, anything that will persuade her to stop this torment, but her lips land on mine, emptying my mind of anything but the feel of her mouth. She kisses me slowly, slipping her tongue past my lips briefly before pulling away. I wonder if knowing that I’m unstitching at the seams, moments from coming apart, turns her on.
Isla sinks, bringing her center over my cock. She feelsunrealeven through my jeans.
“Fuuuuck,” I moan against her mouth, rapidly losing my control.
Stars explode behind my eyes as she begins to move, rocking herself against my hard length. Unsurprisingly, her movements are graceful and controlled, a complete contrast to my rough thrusts against her. We’re a give and take of movement, a slow tease of friction splintering me more with each contact, until I can’t take it any longer.
“Not sure why you're so grumpy when you're walking around with this”—her hips swivel, drawing a guttural groan from my throat—“inside your pants.”
“Because a fucking brat won't stop teasing me.”
“Guess you better teach me a lesson, huh, Wes?”
My hands grip her hips, drawing a gasp from her at the unexpected contact. Her pupils give away how turned on she is, how much shewantsthis despite her unaffected mask.
“This isn’t enough for you, is it?” I bring my face to her neck, pressing a kiss against the skin, lingering to give her a taste of her own medicine. “You need more, don’t you, Red?”
I shift her to the right until her left knee lands between my legs and she’s perched on my thigh. I rotate her hips forward, then back, slowly grinding her pussy against me.
“Why are you holding back?” I murmur, mesmerized by the way her face slackens into pleasure—lips parted, eyes closed, breath heavy.
“I…like,” she moans, gasps of breath punctuating each word, “getting so turned on that I can’t stand it. My orgasms getsointense.”
Well,fuck.
