Page 8 of Colossal
Not going to lie, I’m a little pissy at the moment.
I’ve been turning down smirking idiots all morning, I didn’t get to eat my cookies and milk in peace, and my body is hot-wired with this tingly kind of tension that it only seems to experience around Eric. I’m hot and achy in ways that I usually only feel when the fictional characters in my illustrations kiss and touch each other.
All those complicated physical urges have now seemingly been transferred to Eric Von Hagen, and what does he do? He sends dumbasses to ask me out.
Yes, so I think I’m a little pissy!
Unfortunately, he appears to be almost hypnotized by me, breathing extra hard, a stiff angle risen and straining behind the zipper of his jeans. There’s an apology in his eyes, too. All of that does a lot to dampen my irritation.
“How do you feel about not waiting for the final bell?” I ask him.
He drops his backpack and closes the distance in between us. I dodge him, however, giving in to the last ounce of my annoyance and I enter one of the many empty, darkened classrooms along the hallway, being that we’re smack in the middle of lunch.
Eric follows me inside.
We’re alone for the first time.
I turn and stamp my foot at him. “You sent your teammate to ask me out?”
“Not technically, no. But I didn’t stop him, either.” He closes his eyes. An ashamed giant. “I’m sorry, Fairy Tale. I hated watching him sit next to you. I fuckinghatedit, okay? I just can’t believe you wantme.”
That’s when the crux of the issue finally hits me. This man doesn’t realize how sexy he is. He’s so positive I’ll choose someone else, he’s attempting to provoke the inevitable.
Well, it’s time someone explain to Eric that he’s a desirable man.
Putting it mildly.
His thick chest and waistline are making me pulse at the apex of my thighs.
All morning long, I’ve reminisced about how it felt to sit in his lap, that big appendage throbbing against my sparkly panties. The size and strength of heat of him. How gentle he was with me, even though he could crush a Honda.
“I find you insanely attractive,” I blurt-whisper in the silence of the classroom, my face heating immediately following that statement, because I meant to offer an explanation first. And now, he’s looking at me, stunned, but…in awe? “Let me start over. I’m an artist. Illustrating has been my escape for the last several years. I have to hide them now, because my stepmother found them and decided my brain was a playground for the devil.” He begins to question that, but I wave him off, wantingto get my whole speech out first. My stepmother and how she reacted to my drawings is a story for another day. One I try to think about as little as possible. Until I get home and my reality becomes avoidable, at least. “Anyway, most of the time, I live in a fictional world of my own making.” I go toward Eric, tracing a downward line along the straining buttons of his shirt. “In my world, you would be a god. A mighty, all-powerful superhero. That’s what I see when I look at you.”
A lump rises and falls in his throat. “Just don’t expect me to fly,” he rasps, trying to make a joke, but ultimately, he just sounds overcome.
“I bet you have super strength, though,” I murmur, kissing his chest through his shirt and making his breath catch. “Maybe you should try lifting me.”
A rumble erupts in his chest. “Marlow…”
“Touch me.” I tease the button of his jeans with a featherlight touch, before stroking my palm down the unfathomable length of his bulge. Every time I think I’m close to the tip, it keeps going. And going.Holy moly.He’s already self-conscious about his size, however, so I keep my exclamation to myself. “I’m touchingyou, aren’t I?”
He stands frozen, unbreathing, but he’s very much alive.
I know because his flesh is beating feverishly in my hand.
“Pick me up,” I whisper against the center of his chest, squeezing his sex at the base and beginning the long journey again along all those hefty inches, listening to his groan build and eventually tumble out, leading to a round of heavy panting. “Play with me.”
“Holy shit, I can’t believe you’re real.”
“Feel for yourself.”
I’m swept off the floor by two hands around my waist, my pulse screaming with excitement as Eric carries me to the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, setting me down on theshort edge. His gaze ravages my body hungrily, but his hands stop just short of touching me, as if he still can’t believe he’s allowed, but I arch my back, pressing my breasts up into the palms of his hands, my panties dampening when he finally, finally, rakes his hands down my mounds, then back up, squeezing just this side of rough.
“I love that, Eric,” I gasp.
“Holy…I can tell, Fairy Tale. Look how hard that made your nipples.” He rubs them in a circle with his thumbs, his breath stuttering in and out, so delicate for a man so huge. But there’s a thrill in knowing he could manhandle me, if he had the inclination. Or was encouraged. There’s an abundant part of Eric trapped in his jeans that is nothing short of violently hard. Even if he tries to be gentle with it, I’ll be screaming for mercy. “You said I can play with you,” he begins, sweat beginning to bleed through his shirt. “Did that mean I can…”
“What?”
