“So? There’s no one around and the windows are tinted.”
“I still don’t think—”
Sam bent her body so that her breasts were inches from his face. “Welcome back to Melbourne, Galahad.”
The sound of his laughter was perfect, almost as perfect as the way he pressed a palm to her right breast, his skin cool, his touch heartbreakingly uncertain. She was so turned on from their kissing that her nipple strained against his skin and when he arched up and bit lightly at her neck, she shivered.
“Good?”
“It’s how touching should feel,” Sam sighed. “Why weren’t we doing this when we were teenagers?”
Instantly, she felt like an asshole but Scott seemed to have taken up her mission of avoiding the hard topics. He kissed her again, hot and deep and Scott became more confident, cupping and squeezing her breasts and tugging at her nipples through her top. The car was heating around them, the windows fogging. They were being ridiculous but Sam couldn’t bring herself to care. For the first time since Silver Daughters became hers, maybe the first time ever, she could think of nothing, she could onlyfeel. The fucking boy next door, who knew he was such a good kisser?
Sam pulled away, knowing she was greedy, but needing more. “What did you want to do next?”
Scott’s smile flashed up at her. He gripped her hips and urged her against him. Sam locked against him in a pale imitation of sex. She felt the thick bar of his erection again and fought the urge to measure with her hands. “Did you want to do me, Scott? Did you want us to fuck?”
He shook his head. “When I was fifteen, all I wanted was to get you off. I wanted to make you come.”
“Most boys don’t think about doing that.”
“I did. I used to lie in bed every night with my head buried in a pillow and wank myself stupid thinking about you sitting on my face.”
Something about the image—the desperation, the unpolished teenage filthiness—sent a bolt through her middle. “Scott…”
“I wanted to taste you so bad, it hurt.” He kissed her again. His tongue curled and lapped at her mouth, she knew he was simulating what he wanted to do to her cunt. She pictured herself on her back, Scott between her thighs, not as they were now but back then. She imagined the sloppy fumbling, sheer enthusiasm making up for lack of skill. How she would have been powerless to resist orgasm, how it would have relieved both of their teenage tensions.
“Would you have wanted me to do the same?”
Scott gave a painful laugh. “That was sixteen, when all the boys at school were bragging about ‘this girl sucking them off and that girl sucking them off.’ I wanted it, Sam. I remember you used to go past sucking lollypops and I’d have to lock myself in the bathroom and take care of myself.”
Sam felt a thrill of guilt. “I did that on purpose.”
He made a snarling noise, gripping her ass cheeks. “I know you did. I used to go crazy thinking about it. I wanted to…and I knew I couldn’t. And I’d wonder if you were doing it for other guys and I’d have to make myself stop looking because I got too bloody jealous.”
It was the closest they’d come to discussing the truth of the matter, how he’d watched her and she’d torment him, the reality of their fucked-up situation. Complex guilt rose inside her, but thankfully, Scott swerved away from that hotbed of bullshit.
“I used to picture you doing it to me at school,” he said. “You’d meet me in the change room after football training. You’d kneel in front of me and give me everything you had.”
Sam pictured herself kneeling in front of him in the change room of a private boy’s school. She was old enough now that she could admit she’d been intimidated by his uniform, his poshness. She liked the idea of embracing the divide between them—of being that trashy public schoolgirl, servicing him. She lifted her hips, rubbing herself along his rigid cock. “Was anyone else watching?”
Scott’s hand gripped her hair, winding it tight. “The whole fucking team was watching. They stood around getting hard and wishing they were me.”
“Did I like it?”
The hand in her hair grew even tighter. “Of course you did. You liked it so much I had to punish you afterward, Samantha.”
This was danger, this was howling red alarms, but Sam couldn’t stop. She ground against him, rocking her hips in pursuit of a pleasure she’d never expected to find. “Please? Keep going?”
Scott tugged at her nipple, his other hand gripping the curve of her hipbone. “Do you want to know how I’d punish you, Samantha?”
Goosebumps rose along Sam’s spine. “Yes.”
“I’d bend you over one of the benches. You’d be wearing a tiny little skirt and I’d flip it up so we could all see your panties…”
“Yes?”
“Then I’d slowly pull them down and I’d spank you. Hard. I’d make you count each strike and I wouldn’t stop until you were begging. And you’d like it because you’re a dirty little girl, aren’t you? You like being watched.”