I don't own Hannah Montana.
This is SMUT. A LEMON. A SEXUAL STORY.
This is a FAIR WARNING to those who might be/will be offended. Do NOT read unless you are of age, and are mature enough.
It wasn't quite clear how she got into this position. Her mind was clouded by the amount of alcohol she consumed, making her weak and vulnerable. The room was dark and all she could see was the light that was shinning underneath the door from the hallway.
She only knew this situation was real and not pretend by Goosebumps on her arms as she felt him between her legs, his bulge more than noticeable. The only thing that separated him from her were his faded denim jeans and her silk panties. She had her legs wrapped around his torso and she tightened them around him with every pleasure she received upon her own chest.
She could feel his shaggy hair across her naked upper body as he kissed her. First, he started with the nape of her neck as he made his way down, slowly. He led a trail of kisses down to her navel and then he worked his way back up, his mouth landing on her right breast as his hand kneaded the left.
In the back of her mind, she knew this wrong on many occasions. She didn't want to be with him, not like this, but she didn't stop him. What he was doing to her right now - well, it felt good, but it wasn't him. She tightened her legs around his torso as soon as his face came to mind. She suddenly began to picture what it would be like - to be with other and not this one.
She bit her bottom lip to keep herself from moaning as she felt his free hand trace over her white panties. She could feel his hot breath on her neck as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.
"Does that feel good?"
She didn't say anything. Instead, she kept her eyes shut as she felt his index finger push a little over the thin cloth. He began to move his finger slowly, up and down, and sighed in pleasure.
"How about this?" He asked, as she felt his hand slip underneath the silk, his finger making it's way over her.
"Yes," she breathed heavily, her mind filled with thoughts of him. "Don't stop," she whispered.
And he didn't. He started off slow at first, and soon, his pace picked up.
She felt herself arch as she reached climax, and she did nothing to stop herself from moaning. "Oh, Oliver!"
Shit.
"Oliver?"
Shit. Shit.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me!"
As heated as she was, she suddenly felt very cold as her boyfriend of six months pulled himself up off her body. She shivered as she watched the shadow in darkness move off the bed, his hands picking up what looked like his shirt.
"I - I didn't -"
"You didn't just fantasize about fucking Oliver?" He asked, his anger clearly visible through the sound of his voice. "If you want to be with him so badly, then go!"
"Devon, I don't -"
She pulled the covers up over her chest. She suddenly felt very exposed.
"Just drop it, Lilly. We're over."
And then she found herself blinded as the door opened, the light now fully exposed in the room. The last she saw of Devon Gilbert that night was the nakedness of his back as it walked away from her and back to the party down the stairs, the proof of her profound love of Oliver scratched into his skin.
Smut
He was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, his glass of Crown Royal empty save for the melting ice cubes. He was buzzed. Quite buzzed, really, because as he looked up from his glass and back to the living room, he could see nothing straight that wasn't within two feet of him. His shaggy brown hair feel into his eyes and he leaned his head onto the banister for support. Okay, so he wasn't buzzed. He was drunk.
At least the party was at his house, though. He didn't have to worry about driving.
"Ollie! Okster! Ollie Okster the Jokester!"
Oliver opened up one eye to meet the eyes of his best friend, Miley Stewart.
"Have you seen Lilly-kins?" She giggled.
She was drunk, too.
"Nope," He brought his head up and pointed a finger at Miley. "You were supposed to watch her," he slurred as he looked at his empty glass. "Why's all the rum gone?"
"Well I left her with Devon," Miley raised an eyebrow and looked up the stairs. "You don't suppose…?"
Lilly? His Lilly? "No," he shook his head as he pulled himself up with the support of the banister. "Damn, why did I drink so much?"
At that moment, there was a loud thud above the stairs, followed by fast thuds down the stairs. Oliver peered over at the person coming down the stairs and took note that it was Devon. With his shirt off.
"Are those scratch marks?" Oliver asked, more to himself, as he held onto the banister with dear life.
"Where's Lilly?" Miley demanded.
Devon turned on to Miley. "Upstairs."
Miley looked at Oliver for a minute before she quickly turned and started to stumble up the stairs.
Devon looked at Oliver and shook his head. "You might want to go upstairs, your girlfriend is more than ready for a fuck session with you."
Oliver just blinked for a second. "What?"
Devon just shook his head and left out the door.
Oliver looked at the closed door for about a half hour until he finally shook his head clear when Lilly and Miley made their way back down the stairs, Miley and Lilly both in smiles.
When he looked at Lilly, he raised an eyebrow. "What's a fuck session and where is this girl that's more than ready?"
Oh my, my, my… The Lolivers at Colorful Friends tainted my brain =P Actually, it has always BEEN tainted. This is my first Smut. Like it? Love it? Hate it? Please, comment and review. I know it's short, but I'm in a rush. More tomorrow *grin* Or tonight? Hmmm…