Page 34 of The Midseason Fakeout

Maybe I can…

No, that’s ridiculous. I can just go back out there and everything will be fine. I’ll ask Aidan if we can leave. Then I can go back to the sanctity of my own room.

My thighs clench on their own accord as I bring up a picture of Aidan. The way he stared at me as he said those sexy things.

Fuck it. I can’t take it.

I lower my hand, my fingers tracing across my stomach and down. My muscles jump underneath my touch. They’re ready. They want relief. I part my legs just wide enough to sneak my fingers between my thighs over the thin leggings I’m wearing, finally finding my tight bundle of nerves. “Oh God,” I whisper. I’m nearly pulsing.

Clamping my mouth shut, I swirl over my clit. My legs threaten to give out, so I lean forward, using the counter to brace me. I don’t dare peer into the mirror because I’m sure I look like a sex-crazed maniac. Minutes ago, I was making fun of Aidan about being a horny football player, but what does this make me? I can’t even keep up with a ruse without being so turned on I need to take care of it myself.

My legs tremble as I swirl faster. My hips start moving against my palm, then the handle on the door shakes. “Occupied,” I call out, my breaths coming quick.

I close my eyes, picturing Aidan over me, jackhammering into me, calling out things like “Take my cock,” and a moan flies past my lips.

I’ve felt his hard dick nestled against my ass. He’s girthy, thick.

I moan again.

At the exact same time, hands grab my hips, and my eyes fly open. Behind me, Aidan captures my gaze. “What are you doing, Angel?”

I whimper in response, but to my surprise, I don’t get embarrassed. I’m too horny to feel ashamed right now.

“Do you need help?”

“Aidan,” I warn. This is a terrible idea. We’re pretending. “You should—.” Leave. Leave is the correct answer.

He stills my hands, pressing into my clit, and my mouth opens in silent ecstasy. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “We’re both adults.”

He rocks into me, and once again, his hard cock presses against my ass cheeks. Moving his fingers over mine, he swirls just like I was, staying there for a few moments while I’m caught between right and wrong. Then, his fingertips slip off. Nudging mine out of the way, he touches me through my leggings.

“Aidan,” I gasp out.

He lays his head on my shoulder, his hot breaths hitting the crook of my neck. His skilled, practiced hands bring me right back to where I was within seconds. His lips are so close to my throat that he could kiss me, but he doesn’t. One hand pins me in place while the other plays with my clit.

My whole body starts to tremble. I’m so close to the edge, hovering there for what seems like forever, like my body is refusing to give in. It almost hurts, and I hiss, whimpering again while I stay on the precipice.

“Tell me what you need,” he urges. “Anything.”

Not something I should be answering right now. There are so many things I’d die to see Aidan Michaels do to me. I’ve only dreamt of this moment. I’ve laid in bed while he was in the other room and touched myself imagining acts exactly like this. That someday he would see me—actually see me—and he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself.

“I need…”

“Tell me.”

“Ohhh,” I groan. I feel like I could come apart at the seams at any moment, but I’m still there. Still hovering on the edge of a razorblade.

“Aidan.”

“You’re killing me, Bails. Just tell me. Tell me, Angel.”

“Talk dirty to me.”

His fingers falter for a fraction of a second, but he’s on board in the next. “You want to take my cock?”

I nod eagerly, catching his hard gaze in the mirror.

“Your greedy pussy needs me.”

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