“A movie we missed,” I tell her.
We didn’t see it happen.
She pauses. “Is it kind of bad that I wish it were filmed? Not just the flour-bomb. But the whole thing, I mean. And not for online or other people.” She strolls to the bed, still wearing angel wings. “It’s just, it’d be kind of nice to relive some of the good moments.”
I nod, agreeing. My lips lift at that last part. “Tonight was good?”
“Yeah…besides the cocaine,” she repeats. “And the emergency room.” We all took Ryke and Lily to the hospital, just to get checked out.
Lily broke out into a rash, and Ryke’s leg is bothering him. So they’re still being admitted overnight for observation.
“So like ninety-percent good?” I ask.
“Ninety-nine.” She smiles.
I don’t want to bring up the guy she ran into then. The one who was gross towards her and Daisy. If she’s not thinking about it, there’s no point in rehashing something that would drop the “good” percentage.
“Come here,” I say and lean forward, grabbing her wrist.
She slides onto the bed next to me. The house is empty. Everyone’s still at the ER, and I can’t remember who’s babysitting Maximoff and the Cobalt kids, but the important part is that they’re MIA.
Ever since our first kiss at Daisy’s birthday, she’s let me explore her body with my hands. But I’ve never touched her below the waistband of her panties or above the tops of her thighs. I’m careful to take things at her pace.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m dying a hundred deaths waiting. Every particle inside me wants to rush through. To caress each inch of her flesh, map out her freckles and study her body so I know it expertly.
But I won’t fuck everything up by pushing Willow too fast. I’ve fucked enough up in my life. I can’t fuck up this.
My lips meet hers, and I guide her back down onto the mattress. Her angel wings crumple a little beneath her.
I cup her cheek and edge her lips open. My body stirs to find pleasure points in both of us. But most of the time, I finish in the bathroom.
I’m fine with that.
I just wish I could make her come. She’s never had an orgasm in her life, other than from herself, and I, so fucking badly, want to give her that earth-shattering pleasure.
Her breath hitches as I suck on her bottom lip and then move to her neck. She’s soft and hesitant and always in her head. Her hands lie next to her, not on me, because they’re fisting her comforter tightly.
I suck harder on her neck, and her hips arc into me with need. I’m quick to rise on my knees, my bodyweight hoisting enough that she can’t feel my erection. I don’t want to pressure her into thinking she needs to get me off.
She doesn’t.
I’m a fucking adult.
I’ll be fine.
I barely pause, my hands sliding on top of her breasts. The fabric of her dress and bra soft under my palm. I knead her, and she lets out a raspy breath. I want to give her more.
And thank you V-cut dress for giving me easy access, so I graze my hand underneath her padded bra. Her nipple is already perked, and I continue massaging, my thumb brushing over the sensitive bud. Her breath staggers.
My dick throbs.
Hardening more.
With my other hand to her hips, I squeeze her flesh tightly. She squirms underneath me. Fuck, how wet is she? My head screams at me to check, to just slip my hand between her thighs and release these pent-up feelings that I can physically see coursing through her.
I clench my jaw, shutting down those thoughts.
“You okay?” I ask Willow in a whisper as my mouth glides to the other side of her neck. I press my fingers into the soft flesh of her ass, near the back of her thighs.
“Mmm,” she breathes out her nose, already sinking into those cravings. And then just as suddenly, she goes rigid. Her entire body locked.
I lift up on my hands, enough that I can look her in the eyes. “What’s wrong?” I ask, my gaze dancing around her body for more signs of discomfort.
“Nothing,” she says so softly that I have to lean down a little to hear. “I just…I keep forgetting to touch you. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I get so lost in everything and—”
“You know where your hands are right now?” I ask her and look to her fingers, still tangled in the comforter.
“On the bed.”
She doesn’t get it, so I explain, “Willow, you’re death-gripping the sheets like my dick is already inside you. It’s fucking destroying me. In the best way.”
Her lips lift slowly. “Really?”
“Really.” Her shyness in bed is a literal turn-on. I never even predicated that.
She bites the bottom of her lip. “Should we get undressed?”