She hooks her arms around me. “I’m so glad you said that. It’s such a good song.” She squeezes me, crushing the air from my lungs.
My arms enclose around her waist and I nuzzle my face into the curve of her neck. She sighs contently as my fingers travel down her back and sketch a delicate path along the patch of skin peeking out from the hem of her shirt. I bite my lip to restrain a moan when she shudders. “The Window” by Mars Volta fills up the silence between us as she nips at my earlobe with her teeth, and my body quivers uncontrollably.
“I know we never actually fully reached a conclusion to what was okay between us,” she whispers with another nick of her teeth, “and what was not, but—”
I cut her off, turn my head, and press my lips to hers so roughly our teeth clank together. Probably the least sexiest kiss ever. Add that to the fact that I can’t figure out what to do with my hands—never seem to be able to—and she should leave me high and dry. Instead she presses closer, rolling her hips against mine as she nips at my lip and tugs at my hair.
“You feel so good,” she moans breathlessly as she rocks her hips again. “Is this okay? You’re not feeling anxious, are you?”
Not this time. This time, I am way less stressed out. I feel way more in control over my head, at least for the moment anyway.
Another mind-blowing movement of her hips and I damn near explode. Something possesses me—an urge I don’t understand—and I’m suddenly flipping us over.
A quiet whimper escapes Lyric’s lips as her back hits the sofa cushions.
“Are you okay?” I wiggle my body over hers, still feeling out of my element.
Push or pull?
Want or desire?
Stay or flee?
Her blonde hair looks like a halo around her head, her green eyes are glazed over, and her lips are swollen from the intense kiss. She’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes on. Will ever lay eyes on.
“More than okay.” She cups the back of my head and guides my mouth to hers for another passionate kiss.
Our tongues twine together as I grind my body against hers. A shudder then another grind. I feel like I’m dying inside, yet at the same time, fully alive. My body and mind are a walking contradiction, never wanting the same thing.
For the moment, my body ends up winning as I glide an unsteady hand up Lyric’s dress. Her legs part, and I settle between her with my hand on her ass. She shivers, her head falling back as she gasps.
Terrified, I start to pull away, but she reaches between us and places her fingers over mine, holding my hand there. I kiss her fiercely until my lips feel swollen then move my mouth down her neckline. Little whimpers and moans keep escaping from her lips the lower I delve. By the time I reach the top of her dress, I’m pulsating with need.
She rolls her hips against mine again as she grabs my hair. Glancing up, I slide one of the straps of the dress down while watching her expression. When her chin dips down, her hungry gaze collides with mine. She wants this, wants me. I don’t even know how to process that fact, so I try not to, try not to think about anything as I slip the strap down and expose her breast.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper. I’m as hard as a rock. Through the yearning, the fear is there, residing under my skin.
I won’t give in. I won’t give in.
Lyric grasps my hand that’s still on her ass, but I still manage to pull away. I take her other hand, and with our fingers linked, I move her arms above her head, then I lower my mouth to her breast, and suck her nipple into my mouth.
Her back bows, our bodies meld together. I’m about to lose it, yet somehow, I continue going, sucking and tracing circles with my tongue. Lyric gasps and moans and writhes underneath me until she finally cries out, stabbing her nails into my hands as she comes apart.
The pierce of her nails almost causes me to tumble into a memory.
See the darkness eating around you.
It will one day consume you.
Because we’re not going to let you out of here
Until you’re so ruined you’ll never be good again.
No, no, no.
I don’t want to see it.
I force the images out of my mind, returning to reality just in time to see Lyric blinking up at me.
“Are you okay?” she asks as she traces her finger across my collarbone.
I nod, still in shock over what just happened between us. “Are you?”
“I’m more than okay.” Her hand glides down my spine to the bottom of my back, just above the waistband of my jeans, and her fingers play with the fabric of my boxers.
Every single one of my muscles wind into knots, and the moment begins to crumble.