I’m wearing my nicest bra—white lace that exposes part of my nipple. It’s the only sexy thing I’ve ever bought myself, and right now it feels like the best purchase I ever made.
Theo’s hands caress up my legs, parting my knees enough for him to stand between them. His hands don’t stop there, though, continuing their journey north over the curves of my thighs until slipping around my ass and squeezing me hard.
My center swells instantly with more desire, and my arms fall to either side of me, palms flat on his hood. I arch my back to push my tits toward him. I want his mouth on them. But Theo seems to want to kiss me somewhere else. His palms trace the curve of my ass and hips, my skirt now doing nothing to cover my most private parts. I move my arm enough to lay my eyes on his, and we hold our stare for the two seconds it takes for him to bend down and bring his mouth to my center. He sucks the moment his lips touch my swollen middle and when his tongue flicks against my clit, I come again. Maybe I never stopped.
My hands move to my breasts, and I squeeze myself as I arch, pinching my own nipples through the lace to satisfy this growing, unquenchable need. My own hands are soon replaced with Theo’s. His tongue punishes my center with long, methodical strokes while he tugs down the cups of my bra and tugs at my rock-hard nipples.
“Say it, Lily,” he says, his words muffled as he groans against my tender skin, and I buck against him.
“Please,” I repeat, hoping it works like it did before.
Theo shakes his head, his lips moving from side to side against me, and I cry with the rhythm.
“No, say what you want. Tell me you want me to fuck you, Lily. Please fucking say you want me to fuck you.” One of his hands has moved from my breast and his body jerks between my knees as he strokes himself.
“Fuck me, Theo. Please fuck me,” I say, without even having to think about it.
His mouth leaves one last suck behind as he stands and quickly pulls a condom from his wallet, tossing it to the ground and unzipping his pants. I lift myself up on my elbows enough to watch as he pulls himself out of his boxers and slowly rolls on the condom. It’s almost laughable how much better he is at this compared to Michael Shipley, the boy who mowed our lawn and who took my V-card two years ago.
His hand runs up my center, pulling my skirt up my belly and holding me still as he moves forward and guides his tip into me. I can feel my pussy pulsing already and I fall back, readying myself for him to fill me completely. He starts slow enough, rocking his hips forward and entering me an inch at a time, but soon, he can no longer handle it, falling forward and resting his weight on his palms on either side of my face while his dick slides all the way inside.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans, and I close my thighs around him, holding him to me and bracing myself for him to rock out and in again. The burn subsides as I stretch to fit him, and with each thrust, he grows bolder—and harder—sinking into me with more force.
My hands fly to his neck then wrap around his shoulders and back as I work to hold myself in place to meet every thrust. I’m on the cusp of coming again when his muscles flex and his breathing halts as he grinds into me so hard that my body slides several inches up the length of the car.
Theo pulses inside of me, his cock hot and skin damp. My hands cling to his back, silently begging him to push into me a few more times, which he does. His thrusts are more guarded, less about chasing his own orgasm now, but the fullness is enough to send me toppling again.
As his body blankets mine, I breathe in the hot air around us—made by us—and I smile because he’s right. It smells like sex out here. And that’s because I just fucked the hottest boy at Welles in the middle of a clearing. God, I want to do it again.
Chapter22
Theo
Lily turns me into a rabid animal. I lose all reason.
That’s not the way I wanted to have our first time, but I couldn’t stop once my hand made it under her skirt and she whimpered at my touch. I had to taste her and damn, was she sweet.
I keep pacing from the locker room out to the field gate and back, and I don’t even care how obvious it is that I’m looking for her. She said she would come to the game today, and Iwanther there. The only person I’ve ever cared about seeing me play is Anika.
I want Lily there.
When I step back into the locker room, I catch a few of the other senior players talking shit. They barely hide it by separating and instantly going quiet when I walk in. One of the guys, Oliver Raskin, has been doing a lot of whispering. He started the second I got back to campus. Probably because he loves to tell people about the sweet settlement he got when my sister stole his car and crashed it into a river. Insensitive fuck that he is, Raskin doesn’t seem to quite get the tragic part of the story—that Anika fucking died!
“You ever get jealous of those guys who get to play their games under lights?” James pulls my attention to him, holding out a roll of tape for me to wrap his wrists. I take it but leave my glare on Raskin’s profile. It makes me feel better knowing he’s checking his periphery for me, to see if I’m still there.
I’m right here, you dick!
I stretch the tape and start wrapping with divided attention.
“Nah, Friday lights are overrated,” I respond. Welles doesn’t have lights. Our games have been on Saturday mornings for legit a hundred years.
“I think I’m gonna miss the lights. Don’t judge me, bro,” he says, taking over the wrapping now that I’ve gotten it started. I give up my stare-down and return my thoughts to more worthy things—Lily.
“That’s cuz you’re a quarterback. You guys are all about the glory.” I roll my eyes and step closer to my locker so I can give my phone one more glance before Coach comes in and makes us all pay attention.
LILY:We’re here. Morgan put glitter on my face for this. I hope you’re happy.
I laugh quietly to myself and shoot her a gif of an overzealous stripper covered in glitter. She responds with a pic of the glitter lines under her eyes and my number, 88, on her right cheek.