It was all her fault. She was to blame for it all, for making me feel like this.
I knew she was doing it on purpose, just to taunt me.
The brush of knees when we sat side by side, the corner of her elbow hitting mine, the passing brush of her fingers were enough to set fire to the pit of my stomach.
The first thing I noticed about her was her eyes, the twinkle in them whenever she greeted me, and it wasn't long after that her laugh enthralled me. From that point on, I would think about her smile, her lips, her mouth. Something just drew me to it; when her mouth stretched into a lazy smile, the way her whole face lit up when she grinned, the way her lips trembled the slightest bit when she was angry or scared.
It was the way she was looking at me as we were sitting across the bench from one another, chewing on cotton candy. The look on her face was like she couldn't decide if she wanted to fuck me or figure me out. I would take both options if it meant I could have her. It's her expression when she walked back to her porch, there's a combination of shame, timidity, and lust in those eyes of hers, and it shouldn't make me want her more, but it does and the ache of longing in my chest persisted. Whenever she looked at my way, even if it was only a glance, I found myself thinking about how I needed to have her, it was pathetic, absolutely fucking pathetic.
Since meeting her, I was in a constant state of arousal. I adored her but at the same time she made me hate her. I wanted to ravage her, every part of her, mark every inch of her skin and show her exactly who she belonged to. But instead I kept it all bottled inside, it made things easier.
I'd indulged once, just one time and that was all it took to plant the seed that seemed to spread into every corner of my mind. Soon it was the only thing that would get me off, and I hated it. I felt like a fraud instead of a friend, every thought was a betrayal. It was like taking the precious gift of her smile she'd given me in trust and using it for my own perversions. She didn't know, but I still felt it was written all over my face.
"I'll be seeing you around, J," she winked and waved at me before stepping upon her porch and opening the door in front of her.
Why did she have to be so fucking perfect? I could strangle her right now and she'd still look just as beautiful as she did at this very moment.
"Goodnight princess, don't have too much fun without me," I said with a chuckle as I waved back at her.
"You wish," she replied but I was already gone by the time she looked back.
There was something intoxicating about the restraint, though, of holding myself until the very last moment, when I finally couldn't take it anymore, when I could finally let go and well, what a rush that was.
It wasn't long before I reached my bed and that's when the wait was over.
Every time that we would spend time together, all I could do was study her, fantasize about her. I imagined what her face would look like twisted with ecstasy, her torn from limb from limb. What she tasted like. The thought of her coming undone before me, making her come just for me, her nails in my flesh.
Every so often, there were these little moments that happened, moments in between, where she was somehow or another, close enough that I could almost taste her presence. I felt like she was there with me, in the flesh.
Sometimes, on the very deepest, darkest nights, the ones where I was so cold I'd sell my own soul just to feel something. I wanted-needed to taint her pretty little light. To take that innocence and twist it to reflect the world around her as it really was, the world I saw and lived and breathed and fed on.
I thought of her, listened for her, wandering through my house. Imagined her, small and soft and sweet, maybe listening for me. Maybe wandering by my door and thinking to herself, "What could he be doing in here? Maybe I should make sure he's okay."
Then she puts her hand on the door, pausing as though to knock before deciding against it. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turns the knob. The door creaks just slightly as she opens it and she freezes, afraid to be caught. But no, no it's okay. Shyly, she enters, a little hesitant, her almost-but-not-quite body humming with nervousness but maybe also with anticipation. Excitement. Certainly the faded echo of adrenaline.
And there she is, at my door. And then there she is, at my bed, I can feel her presence teasing at my senses, like gauzy grey window drapes caught on the edge of a breeze. I'm still sitting, tangled in the sheets, and now she's next to me, so close but not nearly close enough, with that strange combination of uncertainty and boldness that never fails to make me smile, so I do.
She smiles back, coyly, fingering the collar of her sweater that hangs oh-so low like it inexplicably does sometimes. Only maybe a little more than usual. Yes, like that. And oh, she doesn't have on her leggings, or her boots, or her white undershirt, just her sweater hanging off one shoulder. Just to torture me.
Here, in this safe place, she was mine, and her desire for me possessed her.
In this place, her face was smooth, open, and she wouldn't stop smiling. Her hair was down and wavy, tangled and free. She was full of breath, full of words and of kindness and torture, her beauty was overwhelming. I couldn't get the image of her delicate, smooth body under mine. I wanted to leave bite marks all over her body and then I would kiss each one so that she was always reminded that she was mine.
I couldn't stop staring at her skin. There's so much of her skin that I've never seen, and I'm anything but unaware of it. My eyes scanned every inch of her body and she's watching me with those flushed cheeks, like she's embarrassed but she shouldn't be. I wanted, oh how I needed, so badly it made my heart ache. Her lips, how they parted slightly and all I can see is that little space where her tongue moves against her teeth.
She's looking at me, her expression is a mix of wonderment and delight and trust and everything that makes her perfect. And underneath all that is just a bit, just a whisper of how much she needs me, and it's everything I could have ever wanted. I took it all in, everything, it was just the two of us.
Her hand rises, reaches out, and grazes my temple, making me shiver under her fingers. They glide, light as a thought half-finished, over my cheek, next to my jaw, along my neck, across my chest, and then down to where my breath catches in my throat and my mouth falls open. My eyes glaze over and all I can feel is her touch on me.
I'm still staring at her face, can't look away from it, and I couldn't even if I tried, but I never wanted to. She leaned in and opened her mouth to speak, but it ends up being swallowed because I'm already kissing her, getting lost in her scent and her plump lips. They were soft, pink, full. I bit into them and she moaned into my mouth, saying my name. We stayed like that for a little before I felt her touch my upper thighs, my hands suddenly awake and alert, eyelids heavy. I sought her approval, craved her attention. In the vivid picture in my mind, she wanted me just as much as I wanted her. I had never seen a girl who looked as beautiful and as graceful as her. I held her soft, small hand, gripping me as I guided her through it all. Then it was her smell. Intoxicating. I breathed her in. It lingered on my hand, where I touched her.
She was all I could think about when I closed my eyes, how perfect her lips fit against mine, how it would feel for her to brush them over the head of my cock, the slightest drag of teeth against it. Would she be on her knees and let me put my hands in her locks to guide her, or was she the type that would push me down and kneel over me, devouring me like a predator with its prey? I found that I liked the idea of her on her knees for me, at my mercy as I made her gag on it.
I wrapped my hand around my cock with the vision of her perfect, full lips wrapped around it. The wet heat of her mouth taking me in, the bow of her lips pursed around me, looking up at me with wide eyes as my cock moved in and out, over and over again. She couldn't keep her eyes off mine as she hollowed her cheeks around me. My breathing became ragged as I pumped faster, harder, chasing release.
But then I hear a knock. A knock on my door. My eyes flashed open and she was still knocking on the door, only louder. Usually I would stop altogether, only this time I didn't, I was so close, this close to finishing and if she could just, if she would just...
"Jerome?" my name drifted hesitantly from beyond the door, falling at last from her lips. I stayed silent.
For some time afterward, all I could hear was my own irregular breathing, the sweet, pulsing sense lingered in my veins, pounding through my head and prickling my skin. Finally, the frantic knocking on my door penetrated the thick fog, and her voice reached me, heavy with worry.
"Jerome, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, dollface," I croaked harshly, half afraid and half thrilled that she would open the door. If she did then, maybe things wouldn't take a turn for the worst and she would oblige me.
"Are you sure?" she asked before adding, "You seemed kind of distant today, like you didn't want to talk to me. If I did something to upset you, please let me know I'll fix it I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me-"
She was rambling on so I cut her off, "Don't be such a worrywart, I'm just peachy, doll, really," I reassured her. Why did she have to seduce me by voicing her concerns for my well-being? Like if I told her what was wrong, she would do whatever I said. Fuck. I hated her.
"Do you want me to come in? Do you want to talk about it?" she continued. I could practically hear the hopeful smile on her face, and my insides clenched around a hard ball of self-loathing. There she was, just wanting to make sure I was okay, and here I was, jerking off to the thought of her perfect body accommodating me.
And in an instant, I was going to tell her. I really was, but for some reason I fought against it and I replied, "No," I managed, "no I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay, if you're sure. Goodnight, J," she uttered softly. I could still feel her hovering hesitantly at my door for a while before I answered again, "I'm sure. Goodnight, get some sleep,"
Her presence shifted away then, and in the condemning silence she left in her wake I could at least breathe a little easier. There was a voice in the back of my mind screaming at me for not pulling her right then and there to my room, pouring my heart out to her, and claiming her, so I had to hush it for the time being. It wasn't time yet. I had to reel her in, make her desperate for more, make her feel as though there wouldn't be life after me, like she wouldn't be able to breathe air if she didn't have me. I needed to wrap her completely and utterly around my finger, suffocate her with my devotion.
Blindly, I reached for the towel I had strewn somewhere across the floor.
I slept with it that night, dreaming of her while my heart pounded in my chest.
When my eyes opened, all I could see in front of me was the bright sunlight peeking through my window. I sat up in bed, and I was alone. I blinked as I looked back at the clock on my desk, counting down the hours until I would see her. A smile spread across my face and I silently mouthed her name.