“We’ve kissed,” I admit, feeling blush crawling up my neck and settling in my cheeks. Even the roots of my hair are burning with shame. Jesus Christ. Why must I be such a fuck-up?
“When?”
“A day before school started.”
“Did you like it?”
I shrug. No point lying. But that was way before I knew of his existence.
“Are you seeing anyone else?” He is asking now, his voice strained. He takes a step toward me. It’s almost invisible. Like he floated toward me. But he is close. Closer than he’s ever been.
“No,” I answer. “You?”
“No,” he says.
Silence. Our lust is thick and heavy in the air. It’s not just me, I know. It’s us. He wants to kiss me. He wants me to seduce him. Wants to pin this on me. Not this time. This time, he will own up to wanting me. To wanting this.
“What are we?” I whisper. I inch closer to him. Just a tad. Lean forward. Feel him. Smell him. I can almost taste him. This man…this man is salvation.
“I don’t know,” he admits, the tip of his nose touching mine for a brief moment.
“Me neither.”
“But whatever it is,” his hand moves in my peripheral, but I d
on’t dare disconnect my gaze from his, “it’s already happening, and I can’t make it stop.”
Just like that, his mouth comes crushing down on mine. It’s feral, and wild, and completely insane. He fists my hair in a way no one has ever done before, in a way a man would, deepening our kiss. My mouth parts for him instinctively. He walks me back, and I’m losing my balance until my back hits his scorching hot car. It burns, and I couldn’t care less. I grab his face with both hands and allow our tongues to dance together frantically. They’re swirling, teasing, chasing each other, saying so many things we aren’t able to say in class.
Pierce James is kissing me.
Pierce James wants me.
Pierce James is going to be mine.
I chant this in my head to make it more real, but it still feels like a dream. Like I could wake up at any moment—like I do any other school day—and find my hand shoved inside my panties and a confused, sleepy, disappointed expression on my face.
I decide to test reality. If this really is not a dream, he won’t let me to take it any further. I know it. I lift my legs and wrap them around his waist.
He lets me.
His raging hard-on presses against my navel, and I moan loudly when I realize that I’ve never had such a vivid dream in my entire life.
“Pinch me,” I cry out into his mouth. It’s ridiculous, but I need it to be true.
He doesn’t answer me. Just grabs me by the jaw and plunges his delicious tongue into my mouth again.
“Pinch me,” I say again. And this time, he presses his firm body against mine—he is all tight abs and manhood—captures my lower lip between his teeth and pulls it slowly to a point of delicious pain before he frees it.
I sigh.
I would wake up from something like this.
But I didn’t.
It’s really happening.
“I’m going to hell for this,” he says.