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The feel of him against me sends a burning wave of desire through my body, immediate and overwhelming, and the shiver that follows is impossible to hide.
Of course he notices.
He always does.
He leans in again, his lips brushing my ear as his voice drops to a whisper, “Why aren’t you honest, Thalia?”
And in that instant, something inside me clicks, because the truth is simple, brutally clear—if I’ll never have him the way I want, if he’ll never give me more than this, then there’s no reason not to take exactly what he is willing to offer.
I’m twenty-eight, I lost my virginity recently, and I’m done holding myself back from living, from feeling, from indulging in what I want.
“Shut up, Ethan,” I whisper, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down into a kiss.
He’s caught off guard for the briefest second, but it doesn’t last, because his lips crash into mine with the same intensity, the same hunger that always leaves me breathless, consumed.
And everything comes rushing back—the desire, the pull, the way my body reacts to him like it was made for this, for him, stronger and more consuming than ever before.
His hand leaves my chin and moves to the back of my head, fisting my hair tightly and pulling, forcing my head back as his eyes lock onto mine.
“How badly do you want this, Thalia?” he asks, his voice steady, serious, completely stripped of amusement now.
I hold his gaze, even as my neck strains under his grip, even as my breathing turns uneven, but I don’t answer, not yet, not when I know exactly what he’s trying to pull from me.
His expression darkens at my silence, and without warning, his fingers press harder against my clit before slipping beneath my panties, finally touching me directly, and the sensation is enough to make my entire body tense.
I’m soaked.
Completely.
And instead of embarrassment, something bold rises inside me, something reckless, something that makes me want to stop holding back.
“Who made you this wet, Thalia?” he demands, his fingers sliding through my folds with slow, precise movements that make it impossible to think straight.
The sounds escaping me are involuntary, uncontrolled, and the way his lips curve tells me he’s enjoying every second of it.
His mouth hovers just a breath away from mine as he speaks again, each word brushing softly against my lips.
“If you don’t answer me honestly, you won’t get what you so obviously want.”
His touch is not enough.
I need more.
My hand moves to the back of his head, pulling him closer, my tongue teasing lightly over his lips, while my other hand works quickly at his belt, undoing it before slipping inside his boxers without hesitation.
I wrap my fingers around his cock, stroking slowly, deliberately, feeling the way his body reacts instantly to my touch.
“What do you want to hear, Ethan?” I ask, my voice lower now, affected, but still defiant.
His hand moves faster on my clit, pushing me dangerously close to the edge, while his grip on me tightens to keep control.
“The truth,” he replies, that same infuriating confidence slipping back into his expression. “Admit that you want me, that you don’t want anyone else.”
Two fingers slide inside me, and the sensation makes my entire body tremble, not just because of the physical contact, but because of the weight of his words, because of how true they are.
He feels it.
He knows.
