I slide the bedroom window open and climb inside. I can hear the shower running, which means I'm going to have to wait. I move to his bed and sit down, fiddling and fidgeting with anything I can.
Am I going to regret this? Probably. I mean, my rival? The man who incessantly gets on my nerves and tries to show me up on everything? Except for lately. Lately, he's been different. There's been some kind of tension between us, and I can't figure out how to solve it.
The shower shuts off. I wait. Then the door opens and the man in question walks out, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
I stand up and he seems shocked to see me. "Lilly? How'd you get in my house?" One hand scratches at the back of his neck, the other gripping his towel against him. I can't help but scan him. He looks like he was sculpted by a god. His abs, perfectly cut and pristine.
I then remember the question he asked me. I press my eyes closed, pointing at his window over my shoulder. "Uhm– The window." I stutter.
"And why are you in my house?"
"This is going to sound crazy, but," I blow out a breath. "I need you to fuck me."
He crosses his arms, raising a brow. "And why do you need me to fuck you?" He's mocking me. Of course he is.
"I know I'm not the only one who feels it. I mean, there's something between us. Some–Some kind of tension, and I need to get rid of it." I pace the room, moving in an uneven line. I move from his bed, his door, his window, and back. "You don't think I'm crazy right? I mean, there is tension."
"So you want me to fuck it out of you."
"It's not just my tension. It's between both of us."
"And you're sure about this?"
I bob my head to the side. "I'm probably going to regret this, but I've heard what the girls at school say, so I'm sure it won't be bad."
He moves toward me, my stomach flipping. "And what do the girls say, hm?"
"Well– That you fuck like a pornstar."
"I can do much more than that, princess."
"Is that even possible?" I hadn't noticed how close he had gotten until he's right in front of me.
I suck in a breath. "Tell me, do I make you nervous?"
"When you're close like this, yeah." My voice comes out an octave too high. Even if I lied, he'd see right through me. "Y–You're really close. You know when your hands, you know, get clammy and sweaty and–and your stomach feels like it's being eaten out by a bunch of tiny dinosaurs from the inside out, but in, like, a good way? You know? Cause that's–" He cuts me off, smashing his lips against mine. His lips are soft and moist, slightly damp from his shower or his tongue.
He taps the back of my thigh and I jump, wrapping my legs around his waist. He lays me down on the bed, the mattress feeling like clouds. Our mouths haven't disconnected since they touched, our tongues fighting against each other in a battle I know I won't win.
He grinds against me, earning a moan from me. He pulls away. "Take off your shirt." I listen, sitting up to peel off my faded band t-shirt. I throw it somewhere. I lay down, the silky sheet smooth against my back. His lips are back on mine, kissing a trail down my neck, down the valley of my breasts, down my stomach. He looks up at me through his eyebrows, asking a silent question as he pulls at the waistband of my leggings.
I lift myself, helping him pull them off. He discards the piece of fabric somewhere in his room. He kisses my inner thighs before he moves back up my body. I push at his chest, flipping our positions. I feel a growing confidence forming, and I like it.
