Bruising her lips with a deep kiss, I marvel in the feel of her locked in my arms. I’m fucking drunk on the intense craving for her body even while I’m balls-deep inside her. I pull her flush against me, and our brakes snap.
It’s frantic the way we move in sync. Loud, too, with her gasps, and moans, and my growling every time she sinks. We claw for control, taking and giving at the same time.
“My turn,” I say when her moves gradually slow like her legs lack the strength to keep going.
Both hands under her butt, I move her onto her back so I can fuck that sweet, tight pussy like I really want to.
But as soon as she lays under me, her tiny summer dress still bunched at her waist, those small boobs covered in goosebumps, candy-hard, pink nipples standing to attention, the merciless fuck loses its appeal.
I wanted to imprint myself inside her. I wanted her to feel me for days every time she sat down, but I can’t find it in me to use her body like that. She’s so pure in this moment, her eyes full of trust, arousal, and bliss, her fingers ghosting my skin like she’s worshipping every inch.
So I return the favor.
I move my hips back then forth, driving myself home, bottoming out inside her, not relentlessly pounding her like she’s nothing more than a cum drop.
Because she’s not.
There’s more to Blair than I let myself see. More than just Blair the bully. There are deep emotions and layers to her personality, secrets she guards, hurt she harbors, regret that gnaws at her mind. I see it. I notice because I finally look past my own fucking hatred, and now...
I want to use her, but I also want to please her.
Sex is suddenly way fucking different to what I had planned. It’s hot, fast, and hard but not insensitive.
If anything, we both fight to touch as much as we can. Kiss like we’re losing our grip on reality. Speak with gestures instead of words. Every stroke of her tongue against mine sets my mind alight. Every sound she makes, every soundwemake, pulls me deeper into our bubble.
And when she comes beneath me, shuddering, moaning, clawing my back... I fuck her until the pressure is too intense and I pull out, spilling across her stomach as she squirts all over the bed sheets.
“That was... overdue,” she sighs, amusement coating her words as she brushes her hair behind her ears and looks down at her hot body. “What a mess.”
I roll onto my back, my chest heaving, ears ringing, cock at half-mast still. I’m waiting for the awkwardness to creep up. We both lost our minds tonight, crossing lines we were never meant to cross.
Well,I wasnever meant to cross.
Blair doesn’t share my sentiments. She’s not stabbing anyone’s back by giving in to me.
Inhaling a deep breath, I push those thoughts aside for a few more minutes. I’ll have plenty of time to torture myself once I leave her bed.
“You should invest in waterproof mattress protectors and thick, chunky towels,” I say, leveling my breathing.
“Why?”
“It’ll be easier than changing your sheets every time.”
“I doubt you’ll want to repeat this, so no point getting prepared,” she sighs, not a trace of sarcasm or hurt in her words.
That’s... not what I expected.
She’s not hoping for another round. She knows even this was never supposed to happen, and that’s all she’s getting.
Girls always act cool about a one-night stand before it happens, but most grow attached during sex, and by the time we orgasm, one night is not enough.
At least as far as my experiences go.
But Blair... she’s not pining. Not fishing for more, and... Fuck, I’m confusing even myself. I never enjoyed girls who clung to me longer than agreed after I’d had them, but the indifference radiating from Blair—the same one I always projected—has my panties in a fucking twist.
It almost feels likerejection.
For the next minute or so, I rationalize, calming my racing heart and mentally revitalizing my limbs. Once my breaths lose their irregular edge, I sit up and take a moment to admire the wet sheets and Blair’s still-naked body.
