by R Holmes
I see all of her. Every fractured piece that she tries to hide from me.
"Because you fucking can't, Pres. Fuck the consequences. Fuck it. Just fuck it," I whisper raggedly, part of me begging her to say it aloud. To give herself to me fully because I can't fucking stop after having a taste.
Her eyes pop open and I see the inside of her goddamn soul in her ocean irises. They speak to me, pull me into their depth and I'm ready to drown. I feel the soft pants of her breath against my lips, feel her mind race as she struggles to come to terms with the way her body feels, the way she truly feels less what could happen if she gives in.
"Shit," she whispers and yanks me back to her lips. Every bit of restraint I was holding on to flies out the window with the taste of her on my tongue. I kiss her like I'm fucking dying and these are my last moments. Like I can't get enough no matter how close she is.
Picking her up off the floor her legs fly around my waist as I pin her against the wall causing her skirt to bunch at her hips, revealing bright red lace that barely covers her pussy.
Goddammit.
"Stop me. Tell me to stop," I pant.
She shakes her head, raking her nails down my back when I bring my lips back to her throat, kissing a path made of fire.
Together we're frenzied. All of the pent up aggression, the almost moments that we denied ourselves, each and every time I had to watch her walk down this goddamn row in that skirt that made my dick hard in the middle of class. Fuck, I was insane.
But none of it mattered. It would be worth every consequence, and each punishment.
I don’t know much anymore. My life is in complete shambles, with one fucking disaster to the next but goddamn, I know, in my bones, I want this more than I want anything else.
"Sebastian," she breathes.
I suck the pale skin of her collarbone, dragging my teeth along the bone gently and she moans in response. My cock is fucking aching as she rubs against me, grinding, desperate for friction.
"Fuck, Pres," I mumble, not wanting to take my lips from her skin. I do, only to look behind me for a place to put her, only seeing her desk.
I look back at her and her eyes are wide.
"Not my desk."
"Definitely your desk."
She squeals and wraps her arms around the back of my neck as I carry her over to the wooden desk. With one hand, I sweep papers and folders and pens to the floor where they scatter about.
"If anyone hears us, we're done. There's no going back," she whispers, her eyes darting to the door in frantic panic.
"Stop thinking," I tell her as I set her ass down on the smooth wood. I can't keep my eyes off of her.
"I can't, I mean what if someone wal—" I shut her up with my mouth, and kiss her until she's breathless. I bring my hand up her thighs, slowly to her pussy, and run my finger along the lace.
"Lay back."
She hesitates looking towards the door again.
"It's locked. Lay back," I grunt waiting for her to follow my command. When she doesn't, I waste no time laying her back and bunching the skirt around her hips, displaying the same red panties I pulled out of her drawer the day of the hospital.
"Pick these just for me?" I smirk.
"Don't flatter yourself."
I move the lace aside, revealing her pussy and I swear to god the floor is falling out from under my feet. That sounds dramatic as fuck but I think it might be. She's got the prettiest pussy I've ever fucking seen. So pink, glistening with her juices. Asking to be licked, sucked, and fucked.
"Fuck," I curse and take a long, swipe with my tongue. She tastes even better. I want to stay here, in between her thighs with this pussy for the rest of my life and I can die a happy man.
"Oh… god…” she moans, her hands fisting in my hair as her back arches off the desk.
If anyone walked in right now they'd see my face buried in her pussy, and her back bowed up off the desk with her head thrown back in ecstasy. It would ruin her career, and I'd lose any type of scholarship I could possibly get, but guess what?
It’s fucking worth it. We can go back to worrying about the consequences tomorrow. Stolen glances, secret smiles. Me watching the way her ass bounces as she tortures me walking up and down the rows in class.
Tomorrow.
Right now I am going to eat her pussy until she comes all over my face. Like I've imagined a hundred times and stroked my cock to over and over until I had it memorized like a fucking movie.
And that's exactly what I do. Before even parting her to push a finger inside I suck on the tender nub of her clit. I can't get enough of her fingers tugging on my hair as I suck her clit into my mouth, letting my teeth graze against the sensitive flesh.
"You know how long I've wanted to do this? Spread you out on this goddamn desk and show you just how much of a fucking man I am?" Another lick. “To drive every worry from your mind, replacing it with pleasure instead?” Another long swipe that leaves her quivering. “Show you that it’s worth whatever bullshit you’ve imagined in your head.”
She moans louder with my words, and I reach up to cover her mouth with my palm. I'm not as worried about being caught as she is, but if she gets any louder the entire hall is going to echo with her moans. My thumb and forefinger part her lips, exposing every inch of her pussy for me to see and I almost come in my pants like a fucking kid.
I'm a guy, I’m not a saint and haven't ever claimed to be. I've seen a lot of pussies in my life, sure. They are all perfect in their own way. The difference about Presley is hers is fucking made for me. I feel an uncharacteristically strong desire to claim her, fucking mark her, make her mine so no one can ever touch her again.
My cock is so hard it's going to my head, making me feel crazy shit.
"Sebastian…" she breathes, tugging harder against my hair, closer to her pussy until she's grinding against my face, desperate for her own release. Unabashedly taking what she wants, for once not worrying about what the fuck the consequences could be.
Apparently, I should've went alpha as fuck on her and laid her out and ate her pussy like a starved man before now. Maybe we could've stopped pretending and dancing around this shit earlier.
"I want you to remember this, Presley, the next time that doubt enters your head. The second you start questioning, obsessing, losing your mind over what's right and what's wrong. Think about this." I stop talking to suck her clit into my mouth to emphasize the pleasure I'm wringing from her already limp body, and I haven't even had her cum on my tongue.
She only whimpers, thrashing against my mouth. I can tell she's close, and I don't want it to be over. Fuck, I've been waiting for this for so long. Just to taste her, touch her skin and it feels like it's over before it started. She’s going to question everything the second she comes down from her orgasm high, and then I have to convince her that this, us, we’re worth it.
Whatever us is.
"Stop letting what if's control your life, Presley." I drag my tongue down the inside of her inner thigh, nipping lightly against the sensitive flesh when she tugs at my hair, not at all gently. If this wasn't the first time I've had my hands, or my mouth on her, I'd show her exactly the man that I am, but I know she isn't ready. Presley's like a wounded animal, timid and skittish, ready to run at any given second. The shit I want to do to her would have her screams echoing down the walls of this hallway, with reckless abandon and my palm would do little to stop it. I've fantasized about the shit enough to have it etched in my brain.
"Ask for it, Pres," I whisper, her body going tense beneath me.
"What?" Her voice comes out barely above a whisper, completely breathless.
I slide my middle finger inside of her, hooking up and rubbing her g-spot until her eyes flutter closed and she digs her nails into the wood, marking it with tiny crescents.
"You want to come?"
I peer up at her, over her pussy to where she's raised up on her elbows, looking at me with lust filled eyes. Beyond the haze of desire, she's
looking at me with questions.
"Beg me for it. Ask me to let you come, and it's yours."
She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it quickly, like the words have left her.
I rise up, crawling over her body, settling between her legs. The heat from her pussy rubs against my cock, and I want to strip her bare and fuck her until she's wild.
I want to make Presley Ambrose wild.
Reckless. Frantic, and dizzy with hunger only I can remedy.
I press my lips against hers, the taste of her still sweet on my tongue, and coax her mouth open, letting her taste herself. When she's panting, nails scoring my back through my button down, I break from her lips, watching her chest heave.
Fuck, she's perfect.
Beautiful doesn't even come close to what she is. The fiery hair that matches the same fire inside of her. It burns so goddamn bright, yet she can't see it.
I drop back between her legs, sealing my mouth over her pussy once more without warning. My fingers slide back inside of her, two this time, and fuck she's so tight she squeezes my fingers like a vice. I fuck her with my fingers while I flick my tongue against her clit until I feel her tightening around me, her breath coming in shallow, short pants, her fingers gripping my hair harder, pulling me against her and I pull back.
"Tell me what you want, Presley."
Her eyes drag down my face, pausing at my chin that glistens with her juices, and she sucks that fucking lip into her mouth.
"Please Sebastian…" she breathes. Her pupils dilate as I drop back down to my knees, sliding my hands under her thighs and yanking her to the edge of the desk, so I have better access.
"Good girl."
I suck her clit into my mouth, hard, and her back bows up off the desk as she pushes herself against my mouth, desperate for the release I've been dangling in front of her all night. Seconds after I slide my fingers inside of her, fucking her with my fingers while I suck and nibble on her clit, she's exploding around my fingers, crying out my name so loud I fucking feel the tingles in my goddamn toes.
"Sebastian…" So fucking sweet, so forbidden. Everything I will never get enough of.
I kiss my way up, gentle, wet kisses along her pubic bone, the insides of her thighs, the soft flesh below her belly button. Giving her a rare side of me, the one that gives a shit about someone other than myself. She's boneless beneath me, completely sated.
"Holy shit…" she whispers.
I pull the skirt down her hips and grab her hand, helping her upright on the desk. Her hair is mused and a complete mess in the back, but she's never looked sexier.
Silence settles between us, not uncomfortable, but more uncertain. We've crossed into unexplored territory where we can't come back from. Those lines have been obliterated and I'll be damned if we go back to pretending that there wasn't something here.
"We should—" she starts.
"Don't. Don't take away from what just happened here. I get it Presley, I do. You're not the only one who stands to lose something here, but you have to ask yourself this. Do you want to spend the rest of your life running? From your fear. From whatever the fuck it is you're running from, letting it control your life. Determining your future? Because that's what's happening."
My eyes search hers, desperate for some type of affirmation that she feels what I do.
"Take a fucking chance, Pres."
We're still only an inch away, our shallow breathing mingled in a way that only cements the chemistry, the blind lust that we feel in the other's presence. Whatever the fuck this is, I feel it. I bet if I put my hand against her heart, I'd feel it race just the way mine does.
"I'm scared, Sebastian… I haven't felt safe in so long, I'm terrified it'll be ripped away. It's not just me I'm worried about."
My eyebrows raise in question.
"I'm scared I'll hurt you, I hurt everyone… I'll break both of our hearts."
"Can't break a heart that isn’t there, Presley."
16
Presley
If there was anything I had learned in the past few weeks, it was that no matter how far you run, life will catch up with you. The very thing that sent you running, will rear its ugly head and show you that you can't protect yourself with lies and untruths. They weren't armor to protect your wounded soul and battered heart.
Sebastian Pierce blew into my life like a hurricane, leaving nothing left standing. All of the unsteady, fickle walls that I had built up around my heart came crashing down into a pile of rubble at my feet. I couldn't take shelter. He was a category five and I was never going to make it past the eye.
I'd asked myself more times than I could count over the last few days if I was willing to risk everything, to blindly go into this forbidden relationship with Sebastian simply based on the feelings he evoked inside of me.
And the answer I'd settled on?
Yes.
The truth is I feel alive. I feel like a new, strong, determined, woman. A woman who wants to feel alive at the touch of someone else. A woman who is working every day to heal, to move on and to rebuild the life that was stolen from her. That's the woman I feel like when Sebastian's steel eyes look straight into my soul. I wanted to turn away, hide behind the intimacy of his stare, but instead I decided to jump.
To take a running leap off the side of a cliff not knowing what was at the bottom. To fly.
To feel alive.
It is crazy. I am absolutely out of my mind. But when was the last time I felt even a fraction of what I do now?
I know the answer.
I am terrified for the future, but at the same time more hopeful than I can remember being in the last years since I escaped.
A grin spreads across my lips on its own at the thought of Sebastian. A giddy, full feeling of happiness expanded in my chest, causing me to sigh. I have been lying on the couch for hours, devouring a book, with Hope sprawled out next to me purring away. Each time the hero made me swoon, my mind automatically drifted to Sebastian, and my cheeks would heat with embarrassment.
Knock. Knock.
The knock at the door causes me to jump, the familiar wave of panic seizing my chest, but I take two long, full breaths to calm my nerves. I walk over to the door, and peek through the hole and see Sebastian leaning against the post on the front porch, clutching a small package against his chest.
I wrench the door open and grab his shirt, pulling him inside. I slam the door shut behind us and lean against it, my heart racing as his gaze locks with mine and his brows raise in question.
“Sebastian.” My words come out breathlessly. “Please come to the back door. Someone could see you. I’m just… I’m scared for someone to see you.”
He nods. Dressed in a pair of dark jeans, and a white tee and a pair of black chucks he looks as handsome as ever. His hair is disheveled as always, but it's the teasing grin on his lips that makes my heart beat faster. The feeling of anxiousness in the pit of my stomach turns to something… different. Anticipation.
Thrill.
I’m just as addicted as he is.
"Pres." He grins. My name rolls off his tongue full of promises. One word, but the way he says it feels dirty, downright forbidden.
He stalks over to me, pressing my back further against the cool wood of the front door. His hands are woven into my hair, and his lips are on mine before I can blink. Then, his mouth is crashing over mine like a wave, relentless and powerful.
It stole the breath from my lungs, and made me lose all train of thought. His tongue tangles with my own, and leaves me breathless.
"Hi," he whispers when he pulls back from my lips. His eyes twinkle with amusement, and I'm rendered speechless.
I bring fingers to my lips, biting back a grin.
"Hi."
"So, I just wanted to bring this over to you. Sorry I didn't call, but I was in the area."
"Oh?" I laugh at his lie.
"Yeah. Here." He thrusts the package he's holding into my hands. It's heavy, but wrapped in a prett
y gold paper with an intricate bow on the top.
"What is it?"
"Why would I tell you before you open it?" He rolls his eyes and nods towards the gift, "Open it."
I slide my finger under the taped edge and rip it open, feeling Sebastian's eyes on me as I open it. Once the paper is off, I see a first edition copy of Wuthering Heights.
I gasp, my eyes going wide.
"Sebastian, oh god, where did you find this?" I cry, my mind completely blown. This must have cost thousands of dollars.
He shrugs. "I know someone."
"This is too much, I can't accept this." I try to hand the book back to him, but he sets his lips in a firm line.
"C'mon, Pres, take it. I saw it and I thought of you, no big deal. I remember you mentioned that it was your favorite so I picked it up. Don't make it a big deal."
I'm stunned, wholly. This is a first edition print and close to impossible to find. I know this, it had been on my bucket list for as long as I could remember. Dating back to high school even.
"I'm... This is crazy, Sebastian. But God, it's amazing." My fingers shake as I run them along the binding of the classic novel that I've loved for so long.
"Glad you like it, babe."
My eyebrows raise. "Babe?"
Another shrug, nonchalantly, like it's second nature to call me by pet names.
I would be lying if I said that butterflies didn't form at the pit of my stomach hearing it fall so easily from his lips. I feel the heat in my cheeks as a blush takes over, and I suddenly feel shy.
Bashful in the presence of his intense gaze.
"So, got any plans today?"
I shake my head no. "Just reading on the couch with Hope. Very exciting Saturday night." I pause before adding, "Surprised you aren't out tonight though. Isn't that what people your age do on a Saturday?"
Immediately I regret my words. He closes the distance between us, boxing me in with his hands above my head.
"Don't wanna be anywhere but here, Pres," he says then dips down to plant wet, sensual kisses against the sensitive spot on my neck. My fingers entwine with his hair as he lavishes my neck with his skillful mouth.
