The Prom Queen's Sinner: Thornwood Small Town Forbidden Romance Book One

by J. E. Bradley

  “Sometimes, Savannah...I swear,” he nuzzles my neck and I melt against him as he carries me into his room. Every inch of me is on fire from his touch, his closeness, and his raw desire. I can feel it in the way his hesitation has dissolved, pulled back to reveal something more primal and passionate. Does it make me wicked that I love it?

  “What?” I whisper, and he carries me into the bathroom and sets me down.

  “I’m afraid of myself…” he tells me, swallowing hard as he sinks to his knees in front of me. His fingers reach for me, gripping my hips as his forehead rests against my pelvis. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t,” I run my hands through his short dark hair, reveling in its softness and the way it parts for the raking of my fingertips. I grip him with what his short hair will allow, and he looks up at me, eyes dark with a dangerous lust. I can almost taste him in the air, feel his need consuming me.

  “Just because I’m eighteen doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want…” I tell him.

  Wyatt lurches upward, his height shadowing me. I shiver with delight, staring up into his eyes, mirroring the deep aching pit of his soul. I’m not afraid. If anything, I’m just as twisted, if not more. Perhaps this is what I’m coming to realize. That I’m a mess of darkness, of damned thoughts and rejected societal demands, and now Wyatt is pulling me into who I really am.

  “Help me understand you,” he pleads. “I want to know every inch of you…”

  “Well, for starters…” I take a deep breath and lean up to touch my lips carefully to his. “I think I get off on this more than I should.”

  He groans, cups the back of my head, and shoves me back against the wall, cradling me close.

  “You have no idea how much I like this, either,” he tells me, causing my panties to warm. “I’m a fucking sinner, Sav. I want to bend you over and fuck the daylights out of you. I want to force you to come over and over again so that I can taste you again and again. I want to spank that tight ass and see my handprints there, marking you so that everyone will know exactly who you belong to.”

  My breath comes quick, and I gasp with each additional example. My pussy aches with emptiness. Still, I know I really haven’t experienced anything remotely like what he references. My virginity was only freshly taken, and now this man is standing over me, shoving me against the wall, telling me how he’d like to use my body. Should I be afraid? Is there something broken within me?

  “Have I scared you now?” he asks me gently.

  “No,” I am firm, pushing myself against him. “I can handle it. If we go slow, at first.”

  He nods in understanding. His lips graze mine in a lavishly slow, seductive brush, and I deepen the kiss, terrorized by the thought of losing him. If he doesn’t think that I want him, want this, he could think I’m not serious about it, and I can’t stand the idea of it. I need him. I need him like I need oxygen. I think I’d crumble without him.

  Wyatt’s strength is astounding and makes me feel safe. He grips my arms and guides my head with his other hand, kissing me how a woman should be kissed. With passion and tenderness-- a safe amount of dominance. He makes me feel perfect, despite my massive flaws.

  He then pulls away and moves toward the shower, turning it on and tearing his shirt away from his chest. I admire the peaks of his muscles, the ones that come about from hard labor. Even in his thirties, he’s rocking something that put the other boys in this town to shame. They can’t compete with his mature masculinity.

  I reach out and let my fingers tumble over his chest and abdomen, then let my finger hook at the waistband of his jeans.

  “Can I see you?” I ask. I’m genuinely curious.

  I peer up into his eyes, hoping I haunt him. Hoping he sees just how much this means to me.

  Wyatt begins to reach for my chin, but then the resounding slam of the door catches us. It’s a blow to my middle, and Wyatt’s expression is suddenly steel. He lifts a finger to his lips and hurries to turn off the shower. We can hear her footsteps, stomping up the stairs. Wyatt shuffles me into the shower and draws the curtain so that I’m concealed, and then leaves.

  “Jade?” he asks, unpretending in his genuine shock. “What are you doing here?”

  “You know what? I decided something.”

  I can hear the woman’s voice clear as crystal, and I feel painfully vulnerable standing behind the shower curtain. This is horrifying, yet I can’t stop my body’s excitement over Wyatt’s promises. I bite my lip. Hard. I’m his dirty little secret and I love every minute. But then, even as I relish this thought, I can’t help but this about the danger here. Jade is a cop. This town we live in, it’s small. Wyatt’s life, and mine, could be uprooted on the spot. It doesn’t matter if it’s legal. All anyone would hear is “high schooler” and “predator.”

  My stomach flares with nausea.

  “You’re either gay, or there’s someone else. So which one is it, Wyatt?”

  The woman’s voice carries through his home, both poised and violent.

  “You need to leave.” Wyatt’s voice is steady. Within seconds of his words, something smashes against the wall.

  “Fuck you!” the woman screams. “Fuck you, and every man out there like you. With your careless fucking excuses and reckless secrets.”

  Silence distends, and rests there, allowing the absence of her voice to feel like coolness over a brilliant sea of broken glass.

  “Out,” is all he says, and I swear I can hear the heaving of her breaths.

  “You’re going to regret this. I swear to god you will,” the woman seethes, and finally I hear her footsteps receding. As quickly as she came, she’s gone. I’m only mildly frazzled by their interaction. My focus is on Wyatt. Everything he is, everything he has, everything he makes me feel...that is where my focus is. It consumes me like flames do paper.

  I wait patiently for Wyatt to come to me. It takes him a minute, but when he does, he jerks the shower curtain aside. His expression is dappled with flecks of frustration, shame, and nervousness. Does he think I’ll leave because of her? What could he possibly be nervous about?

  “I’m sorry that--”

  Wyatt pushes me gently back against the shower wall. The tiles greeting my back, a reminder that I am locked into this moment. Grounded with him. Nothing else could ever matter, not when his eyes are on me, not when our bodies are so near, not when I need him like I’ve never needed anyone before.

  It’s this need that scares me. It’s not his age, his desire, or anything else about him. It’s my own damn need that horrifies me. Because now, I’m prone to becoming one of those desperate girls. Exactly like Jade. If one day he woke up and didn’t want me any longer, I’d probably throw things too.

  “No,” he sighs against my forehead. “I’m sorry. I should have explained the situation sooner. She won’t be coming around anymore.”

  “Are you sure?” I smile, lids heavy as I look up at the strength of his chin. “Seems like she was pretty comfortable waltzing in here.”

  Wyatt’s expression is unreadable, and he says nothing.

  “I don’t want her,” he speaks crisply. It’s mere seconds before he’s kissing me, stilling and silencing me with the seductive passion of his lips. I melt against his body, feeling the growing bulge of his cock straining against his pants. My heart pounds in my chest, and I’m both thrilled and terrified by his insistence. He pulls back, leaving me dazed. I swear everything around him is hazy, except for his face.

  “I want you, Savannah. Only you.”

  The way he says it, it’s possessive. As if he wants to claim me and mark me as his own. I don’t know what to think, other than the fact that everything about him is delicious and ruinous for me. But, there is a small tendril of thought that rises up, wondering if I’ll ever regret this.

  I look down at his chest and bite my lower lip gently.

  “But...you did have sex with her,” I say, hating how needy and annoying the words sound.

  “I did
,” he affirms, making my heart sink. “I thought I could make myself want her.”

  I am silent, jealousy coursing through me. I reach out and run my palm and fingers over the erection in his pants, clawing my other hand over the muscles of his chest. He sucks in a breath, pushing his pelvis against my hand. I wonder if he truly wants to know me as a person. If he could love me. The only promises I’ve known were consistently broken, leading me to trust no one. Perhaps I and Jade are more alike than she knows.

  “I want you to…to...” I breathe with desire, my body on fire for him. Even if this doesn’t last, even if we’re a short-lived flame. I don’t mind giving myself to him. I want him to explore all of me, to untangle my secrets, and let me live in the sanctity of what we are. I want to tell the world to just let me be. To let me have this. Because I don’t have anything else for myself.

  Wyatt’s hands reach out and work at my pants. He draws them down, along with my panties, laying kisses along my legs. Worshiping me. Maybe I don’t have to say more. Maybe he understands me exactly the way I need him to.

  He draws my shirt over my head, and then unclasps my bra. Each movement is filled with silent adoration, he greets my eyes often, staring into my gaze and kissing me as he makes me entirely naked. He then does the same to his body, allowing his pants and boxer briefs to fall to the floor.

  There he is. Standing proud. His cock is long, the shaft bursting with veins. I’ve never been able to actually look at a man’s erection in person, and the porn that I have seen was never enticing. I’m nearly startled and wet my lips with desire as I notice the glistening drop of precum at the top of his head. God, how I want to lick it. But more than that, I want his cock inside me so badly I can hardly breathe. I have a feeling it’s going to feel very different than the experience I had with Derrick.

  He uses a hand to pump his cock once slowly and then grabs my ass cheeks, curling his fingers around them so they rest in the sensitive inside skin. He lifts me up the wall and turns on the warm water, allowing the spray to hit us both. Instantly, our lips lock. He is slow and patient, his cock hard against my thigh. My back is pressed up against the tiles and he is holding me here, kissing me gently. Every passionate connection of his lips with mine is wet and fluid and sends tingles into my swollen clit. I moan softly.

  “Oh baby,” he croons against my lips huskily. “You never told me, what is it that you want?”

  “I want you to…” I trail off and notice his dark smile. Why can’t I say it? I’m both nervous and delirious with want.

  He shifts his cock with one hand so that it slides against me, and I arch my back with painful need.

  “Tell me, Sav…” he whispers, serious once more. He gently nuzzles the sensitive opening of my pussy, dipping his cock in my wetness, swirling his cock as well as the fingers that hold it, around the sopping flesh. I’m quivering, groaning against him. My lips find his shoulder and I bite down.

  “Do it, Wyatt,” I say, desperate for him. “Do it.”

  “What, this?” he pushes his girth into me gently, and I suck in a hiss, biting down harder on his shoulder.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asks, and I can hear that he is genuinely worried.

  “No...no…” I whimper against his shoulder. “Please, I want you to…”

  He kisses my cheek in understanding, holding me up with both hands again, his cock only slightly inside me.

  “If you think you can take it, I will do it.”

  I nod anxiously, my clit stinging with how much pleasure has already built. My core holding brilliant tension.

  “I can,” I reassure him, my voice entirely drunk sounding.

  He moves his cock only slightly deeper, and I gasp. This is not what it felt like with Derrick. Derrick as good as raped me. Every inch of him builds intensity, stretching the tingling, hot flesh inside me. My clit is pulsing angrily.

  “What do you want?” he asks again sternly.

  “I want you to-” he cuts me off by shoving his entire length inside me, and I cry out. Pleasure spears through me, his pelvis rubbing against my clit. I half laugh half moan, drowning in the sensations. His entire cock is buried inside of me, and he rests there.

  “God damn…” he shudders. “You’re so fucking tight.”

  “Fuck me,” I plead. “Fuck me…”

  He takes this invitation gladly, withdrawing from my channel, his cock now soaked with me. Every tiny needle of the shower adds to the sensations of our union, and he immediately reintroduces his tip, and then shaft, to my pussy. He bucks into me, drawing in and out terribly fast. Each connection is hard and painful, but the pain spreads through my core so deliciously that I cannot tell if I’m crying or moaning, and each pump of his cock brings me closer to shattering.

  “You’re so good...you’re such a good girl,” he slams himself inside me, this time not allowing me to bury my face in his neck. He shoves me back against the wall and one hand grips my breast hard, and I groan again as the harshness of his fingers and the violence of his cock, completely undoes me. He gazes into my eyes.

  “I’m…” I cannot hold my orgasm back any longer, and I cum around his cock. My entire body quivers and shakes, my legs unable to stay around him. He holds me up with the force of his strong hands and the pressure of his pelvis. He buries himself as deep as he can and then, he gasps, closing his eyes and leaning against me. I can feel that he’s spent himself inside me. And we slowly recuperate, breathing in sync, feeling the others' pleasure deeply and fully.

  Wyatt cradles me close then, and I realize just how sore I am. I feel as if I’ve been torn in two. He helps me down so that I’m able to stand, and I wobble, falling against him. He holds me close for a few moments and then grabs the soap and begins to work it into my back and ass.

  “I’m sorry...I should have been more gentle,” he mutters. Is he regretting what we just did? He won’t look at me.

  “No, I wanted it,” I say swiftly, hoping to god that he doesn’t withdraw from me now. “Wyatt, everything we do I’m consenting to.”

  He looks down at me, meeting my eyes again. He brushes his thumb over my cheekbone and then over my lips, and kisses me. This kiss is not filled with need, it is slow and kind. Appreciation for what I’ve said.

  But I’m sure that I’m more grateful than him. Grateful for everything that he is, and everything that he makes me feel. Because without him, I don’t have the freedom to just be, and every label, every expectation, every damn mask I wear, would be the life I am damned to live. Without him, I don’t have room to just be Savannah. And that’s the sort of freedom I’ll never be able to repay.

  Wyatt

  Each day that passes gives me clarity. I don't know what I'm doing with her. I've committed myself to her, yet I don't know what she wants. I don't know how an eighteen-year-old girl can possibly want someone like me. Is it just the sex? Is that what we both want? I know I'm overthinking things, but I can't help but feel a persistent glaze of shame. Fuck it, though.

  Savannah, as evidenced by her reactions to me, knows what she wants. It's like a dream. I'm not sure how I got this lucky.

  That weekend, Derrick arrived and we hung out and had pizza together. Krista and her husband were off doing something else, something I really don't care to hear about, and Derrick was able to spend time with me. I'm guilty, watching my son watch stupid fucking movies and texting on his phone as he shoves pizza into his mouth, knowing that I've defiled his girlfriend. There's nothing sexy about this. There's nothing that turns me on about it. In fact, it repulses me. How could I do this to my own son? Am I that big of a bastard?

  "Hey Dad, what's on your shoulder?" he asks.

  I'm wearing a tank and I realize that Savannah left bite marks there. I hadn't even noticed.

  I grumble something about work, and he chuckles.

  "Yeah. Okay, Dad."

  I'm irritated that he knows this came from a woman. If only he knew what woman. Can I even call her that? Truthfully, I only realized that she
was attractive once she was eighteen. Maybe it was her birthday that set my cock into high gear, everything that she is becoming an obsession. Even now, I think she'd be annoyed that I'm this fucking obsessed with her. That's why I have to pull back and pretend; let her do some of the wanting. Yet, I'd never keep her waiting. As soon as she said "fuck me" I did it. I have no self-control.

  Hey. Is Derrick gone yet? Her text arrives on my phone. It’s Saturday, and it is horrible that I wish he was at Krista’s so that I could smuggle Savannah into my bed for the second time this week.

  No. He's here till Sunday night, I text back quickly. Are you okay?

  Three dots appear, showing me that she is typing, and yet nothing comes through. It's a few minutes before her text appears.

  I've been staying at my friend Elaina's house. But I have to go home now.

  Something about the way she words it makes me uncomfortable. Is she afraid of going home?

  I'm sorry. Once Derrick is out of the house you can come anytime. I text, and instantly wish I could retract it. I'm assuming she'll still be here to come around. I'm grossly overestimating her commitment to me, and whatever this is.

  I'm not your responsibility. It's fine. She texts.

  I hear nothing from her for the rest of the weekend. Is she angry? I can't know. I don't want to text her because I'm not sure if her dad has taken her phone. There has to be an explanation. I try to focus on hanging out with Derrick, doing all the normal father-son activities, but it's difficult. I'm wedging her between us, even if he is unaware. Truthfully, I'm angry at him for whatever he did to Savannah. She wouldn't tell me details, but I know he treated her with disrespect. Maybe if I wasn't such a fucking monster I'd have the time to be a better father.