Ashiara
What the hell am I doing?
Have I lost my damn mind all of the sudden?
He’s lying between my legs, and I’m wrapping them around him like some hormonal fool unable to control myself. He’s nothing but bad for me, and yet I’m spiraled around him, grinding against his incredible erection meant for me.
“Ash,” he whispers as he slides my dress up. “I want you so damn bad.”
My blood boils through my veins as everything within me ignites in unison. I want him, but this isn’t right. I don’t do this shit. But what could it hurt to have a little fun? With a stranger I barely know? At my best friend's mother's house?
Nope. Not happening.
I moan slightly as his lips crush mine, pinning me at his mercy as he slides my dress up around my hips. Both the devil and the angel in my mind cease to sway my thoughts, as surrealism sinks in its claws, and I become a victim of my own primal needs.
The tips of his fingers finds their way under the waistband of my panties, and then I gasp as they strum over my sex, finding the moisture that has gathered - thanks to his touch.
“Fuck,” he breathes, letting his delectable breath travel across my face as my hands tangle in his hair, and then he lets his finger slip in.
He pulls back and then jerks his pants down, before reaching up to start tugging at my underwear.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Stop,” I squeal as I jerk my dress down and my panties up.
“What? What’s wrong?” he breathlessly releases while staying half dressed.
I roll my eyes before slipping free from his clutches as I try to compose my panted, exhausted breaths.
“I can’t do this. Hell, I don’t even know you. The only thing I know about you is my best friend hates you.”
He scrubs his face in frustration, acting as though he feels tortured - which is comforting since I feel pretty damn tortured. I’m so glad his shirt is still on.
He sniggers as he walks toward me in his shirt and boxers.
“I’m not worried about Bity’s disapproval. I want you, and I happen to know for a fact you want me. Let’s just end the suspense."
Did my knees just wobble? It had to be my imagination.
“No. We-”
“Hey, Tag. Where you at?” Wren’s voice chirps from down the hallway.
“Shit,” Tag groans while jerking his pants back on and tucking his shirt in as quickly as he can.
“Tag, come on, man. We’ve got pictures to do,” Wren bellows while opening doors left and right, all of them slamming as he restlessly continues his search.
Tag ducks behind the door just as it swings open, and Wren looks me over as he fills the doorway. Right now, I’m praying my hair isn’t an absolute mess to display... whatever that was.
“Hey, Wren,” I murmur awkwardly.
“Hey, have you seen Tag? Mom wants us to pose for some pictures before the sun completely sets.”
“Um, I haven’t seen him since he bandaged me up, but I’ll t
ell him if I do.”
Tag grins lightly while relaxing out of Wren’s view.