Page 61 of Heartless
To go with the intensity of the moment, even though I thought I could keep it sweet and slow. That’s the thing about Willa. She doesn’t strike me as the sweet and slow type of girl.
Every time I draw away, she pushes harder. Every time I glare at her, she prods, hoping for a reaction. And now she’s getting it.
“Willa—”
“Don’t stop.” Our teeth clash as she talks against my mouth. What started off reverently is quickly turning frantic. A well-crafted facade coming apart at every seam.
I take a handful of her round ass, squeezing hard, before picking her right up and pulling her toned legs around me so I can rut into the denim covering her pussy like the sex-starved caveman I am.
“Yes,” she hisses when my fingers trail over the torn hem of her shorts.
She smells like oranges and warm grass, refreshing and comforting all at once. She feels like heaven in my hands. And she looks just as wild as I’ve always known she is.
But there’s something about seeing her wild forme—giving in forme—that makes me feel more desired than I have in, well, ever.
“Don’t stop.” Her hips swivel against mine as my fingers inch dangerously close to where I might find out if she’s actually wearing panties.
I imagine inspecting her every morning. Bending her over the kitchen counter. Flipping up some flimsy sun dress that’s just her silent way of begging me to fuck her.
“You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” I husk against her ear, lost in the daydream.
My tongue glides against hers, gently probing her mouth. The same way I’d slide a finger into her slick pussy.
She whimpers the way she would when I add a second finger. And then a third.
“Fuck,” she hums against my lips, because my hands are moving of their own fruition, fisting her hair and plumping one full breast.
It’s all too real. Too much.
Too fucking easy to imagine.
By the time I realize how far down into this fantasy I’ve disappeared, I’m throbbing in my pants. Leaking in my pants.
Like a teenager.
Heat shoots through my groin, and I bite back any sign of what just happened. Willa is clueless, still soft and desperate in my hands.
And clearly more than I can handle, which is why I step away panting. Needing some space. Needing to hide from my skyrocketing levels of intense humiliation.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” is what I come up with. A douchebag thing to say, no doubt. But it’s all too much in this moment.
I need my solitude, and I need to get away from Willa. Because staring at her all mussed, lips all puffy and pink, matching the stain on her cheeks while her full chest heaves and her eyes go glassy and wide, has me hardening again.
I turn and stride away, hoping to get a grasp on my dignity somewhere between the hay bales and the back door of my house.
Yeah, I run.
Like a fucking teenager.
15
Willa
Summer:Come for dinner tonight. Bring the boys!
Willa:I can promise Luke and I will be there.
Summer:What about Cade?
