the girl

"Stop fucking following me!"

"I'm-not f-following you."

"Then why are you outside my classroom?"

The girl's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open then snapped shut. Color flooded her freckled cheeks as she quickly averted her gaze.

She was kind of cute but cute didn't really matter when a she was very persistent, annoying girl that had been trailing him for the better half of the day, just staying in his peripheral.

Derek couldn't stop the smug smile—as Tori often called it—from spreading across his face as he crossed his arms, ignoring how his too-small letterman stretched taut at his armpits, uncomfortably tight at his shoulders.

She still hadn't replied, her eyes cast down as she fidgeted from foot-to-foot, wrapping a stray lock of hair around her finger and braiding a knot easily.

He heaved a sigh. "Look, I don't know what you want but whatever it is I'm really, really not interested, okay?" he said finally, inclining his head so he could meet her eyes more easily when she glanced up at him.

"A photo, w-with you that's a-all I want," she blurted before a look of embarrassment and horror flashed across her pretty face. "I-I'm so-sorry. I have to go!" She turned on her heel and scurried away, and he stared after her, unable to stop how his eyes trailed over her; from the back, she was as nice to look at as the front of her.

When Derek mentioned the strange blonde girl to his friend Beth, she stopped what she was doing to stare at him and then snorted a laugh, holding a delicate hand against her mouth to try to smother the loud noise.

Derek shot her a glare. "What's so damn funny?" he snapped, not seeing the humor of the strange, bizarre situation he found himself in.

"That blonde you described sounds exactly like Chloe, who Miranda is pretty sure has a thing for you. I think Tori made a bet with her, saying that if she did get your picture, then Tori would leave her alone about her crush. If she didn't Tori would make her life difficult. But not like devil-level difficult." Beth brushed back a dark curl, smiling. "I have art with Chloe, and she's really sweet. I think her crush on you is kind of cute."

"So it's just a fucking bet. Exactly why I don't go for girls like her," he growled, looking up to see Beth's wide eyes focused on something behind him, and he turned his head, feeling his stomach twist at the sight of that blonde girl from before.

Instead of an adorable flush, she looked decidedly pale, chalky, and she had her bottom lip sucked into her mouth. On closer inspection, he noticed she was carrying a neon-yellow lunch bang limply in her fist and something about it made him think of how innocent she looked. His gut turned over at the glossy look in her eyes.

Beth elbowed him hard. "Hey, Chloe!" she said brightly through clenched teeth.

"O-oh, I'm sorry. I-I'll…" She stepped back, lowering her eyes, retreating, and with every step, Derek felt a little more like a douche.

In all honestly, he hadn't meant it like that. His initial anger faded like a quick gust of wind, leaving him feeling more and more awful for his harsh, unnecessary words.

Chloe blinked hard a couple of times, her eyes darting up to his for a split second before she turned and briskly walked away. At Simon's table, surrounded by various basketball players and artists, a gangly redhead spotted Chloe and stood, hurrying after her as she disappeared through the heavy double-doors.

"Way to go, jackass." Beth's voice was like a whip that only added to his growing discomfort. It hadn't been his intention to make her upset.

Heat crept up the back of his neck as he glared down at his lunch, suddenly not hungry anymore. "I wasn't—just—why would anyone, let alone her, want to spend time with me voluntarily?" he asked quietly, feeling that familiar flare of loneliness weld up inside of him; for as long as he could remember, he'd been the outsider looking in.

"Beats me but I think a good step to finding out is apologizing."

He grunted noncommittally and stood, shoving his half-eaten lunch at Beth before he took off in the direction he'd seen Chloe leave.

the picture

The first thing he saw when he walked into the little alcove with that little seating area in front of a wide window was the back of that redhead Nate Bozian's head, his hair of beacon of red against the school's ugly off-white walls.

The second was Chloe's tear-streaked face which sent a painful pang into the pit of his stomach.

"I-I ju-just…" She trailed, wiping at her eyes roughly.

Nate grasped her shoulder. "I don't know what Tori was thinking. Derek's an asshole, and you deserve so much better, honey. Hell, if I wasn't with Kari, I'd scoop you up myself."

"Thanks but I think Kari would beat you to it. I just wish, for once, the guy liked me back."

Derek cleared his throat, watching as Nate just about jumped out of his skin and Chloe went deathly-white. "Can we, um, talk?" he asked quietly, looking down at his shoes to avoid seeing the bloodshot eyes of his peculiar stalker. Blood thundered in his ears as he waited for her response, chewing the inside of his lip and soothing the sting with his tongue.

"If you need me, just text me," Nate said as he stood up.

Derek didn't miss the glare that the redhead shot him, allowing the other boy to shoulder him on the way back to the cafeteria, and then it was just him and Chloe. In the quiet alcove—alone. He'd never really been alone with a girl before.

He could feel heat creeping across the back of his neck and into his cheeks as he tried to find the words to apologize; he'd never really been good with words but she made him want to try, her and her big blue eyes.

"Chloe, I…I'm—shit," he hissed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Why did—me—you're so—fuck!" Why was this so difficult? "I'm sorry. I—just why me?" More heat flooded his face at her silence. When he chanced a glance up at her, she was sitting there rigidly, her face a brilliant shade of red that made him wonder how far it went down, her eyes wide and locked on him.

"W-why what?" she squeaked, jumping to her feet.

Half of him wanted to face-palm at her obtuseness while the other wanted to see what other kinds of sounds she'd make but he would do that in the safe-haven of his bedroom with the door locked.

"Why do you like me? Why do you need a picture with me?"

If anything her blush darkened. "Tori told me she'd leave me alone if I got the picture," she muttered, looking away. "A-and you don't exactly choose who you crush on. I like you because you're you. You're real. You're not afraid to tell someone how it is; you're so damn smart it's insane! A-and…." She chewed her lip, running her hands nervously through her hair as she brushed it over her shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes.

"And?" he pressed gently even as his face heated up.

"And I-I think you're really, um, well, s-sexy!" With a little groan, she buried her face in her hands and in doing so missed his deepening flush.

Sexy. She called him sexy. Boiling heat rolled through his limbs, through his veins, as his heart thundered loudly.

Girls didn't have crushes on him; they always crushed on Simon.

Derek was moody and unpredictable and big and scary and awkward. He dressed in clothes too big and dark, and he had a sour disposition that put everyone off.

Simon was a smooth-talker, fashionable artist that drew girls like flies to honey. He was friendly and always smiled and girls fell for his looks everywhere they went, but this girl, this Chloe, sweet and adorably flushed pink at the cheeks and ears and shoulders and knees, her pin-straight hair hanging on either side of her bowed head in curtains, wanted him: moody, angry, dangerous, volatile Derek.

He stared at her, taking in her appearance.

Her tiny blue T-shirt emblazoned with a renaissance painting of a cherub had twisted away from the waistband of her jeans, a strip of tantalizing sun-tanned skin decorated with a galaxy of freckles, and her white trainers squeaked slightly as she bounced her leg nervously. So sweet, so damn innocent; he wanted to eat her up.

"Okay," he said finally, swallowing hard before he nodded again. "Let's do it." The burn in his cheeks got hotter as he realized his words, but she wasn't paying attention, fishing her phone out of her pocket while she nibbled her lip.

When she released it, the gloss of saliva and flush of the abused flesh drew his attention, and he clenched his fists at his sides against the tightening in his jeans, tensing more when she shuffled closer, her fumbling fingers struggling to unlock her blue-encased phone. Her cheeks glowed.

"I-I….can you lean down? A-and maybe smile?" she asked softly, glancing over at him.

He bent down slightly, wincing at the pressure on his knees and the ache in his back at the awkward position.

She spotted the look in his face and pursed her mouth, glancing around them. "How about we sit?" Gesturing to the tiny spot she and Nate had been previously sitting, she sat down beside him, and he eyeballed the spot uncertainly; he was too big and wide to side comfortably with her side-by-side.

She smiled shyly up at him. "I do-on't bi-bit-te." There was a teasing tone to the words but he could see the nervousness and vulnerability in her expression that she was desperately trying to hide.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, I don't think we'll both fit."

Her eyebrows went up, and her mouth dropped open. A lovely flush bloomed across her neck and the tips of her ears. "I—um…I could—" she started quietly, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth and heat crept up the back of his neck and his ears again.

"You could sit on my lap." He hadn't meant to blurt it out but he couldn't exactly swallow the words back, and he watched in fascination and arousal as her eyes widened and the color of her flush darkened, a deep-red that spread across her entire face, all the way to her roots. "I mean—"

Even as he spoke those words, he watched her expression closely, the shock giving way to stubbornness. Wiping her hands across her thighs, she nodded once, closed her eyes, and inhaled. "Sure. S-sit down please."

Normally it set his teeth on edge to be ordered by anyone, especially a girl not even half his height, but he obliged her easily enough. Overcome with embarrassment he lowered his head and looked down at his frayed shoelaces as she stepped closer slowly like he was a dangerous animal, phone held loosely in her hand.

"You okay? We don't have to, you know. I'll survive with Tori teasing me."

He glanced up at her, searching her expression, finding only concern in her face. "I'm fine. Remember, I live with her so I know how she is," he muttered by way of explanation, cheeks flaming as she climbed onto his thigh, her head bowed and long locks of hair obscuring her face but he high suspected her cheeks were as red as his felt. When she settled, he felt like he was gonna combust; he could feel the heat of the apex of her thighs, the soft brush of her hair as it shifted, see the rise and fall of her small, pert breasts in sync with her undoubtedly nervous breathing.

She was a very pretty girl on his leg, warm and solid, her hair smelling faintly of shampoo or perfume.

He prayed his body would behave but, of course, being a teenager with a girl perched on his thigh, his plea wasn't heard. She shifted, bumping the sweet curve of her buttocks into his straining hard-on, and he swallowed hard when the little groan escaped him, too loud in the silence. "Sorry." His voice came out lower and raspier than he had hoped, his face burning not unlike hot coals, and she fumbled with her phone.

"I-it's okay. It's no-ormal, ri-ri-ight?" Her voice was like fuel to his fire and he could only grunt a reply as she wound an arm shyly around his neck; he was close enough he could tell her deodorant was starting to wear off. Her hand trembled against his neck as he realized he'd have to wrap his arms around her waist, and he chewed his cheek.

"Can I—is it okay if I—my arms?" he croaked and felt her shake; alarmed, he craned his neck only to realize she was snorting with laughter. "What?" It came out as a growl, and she froze, her mouth dropping open in shock as a flush worked its way down her face yet again.

"Sorry."

With a little grumble, he tentatively slid his arms around her waist, feeling her inhale sharply through her teeth. Her back met his chest and he could feel the dig of her bra strap adjustment sliders, hard and plastic, against him. From his vantage point, he could see the tremor in her hand as she typed in her code numerous times before it unlocked.

"S-smile."

She lifted the phone, angling it a little to get their faces in the camera, her cheek pressed solidly against his. His grip on her tightened, fingers digging in, and he felt her shiver, the motion rocking her against his leg. Blood thundered in his ears, his heart slamming in his chest like a hammer, when she scooted back a little, some of the tension leaving her back, relaxing against him.

Derek honestly couldn't remember the last time he smiled but he thought he managed alright, a little lopsided and showing his crooked canine from falling out of tree, making his eyes narrow. He expected her to hop off him like he was a virus but she didn't; instead she turned to him with those wide eyes and asked in a trembling voice if they could take another one.

"I thought it was just one."

"It…was bu-ut I wan-want anot-other, if—if that's okay," she admitted, looking down at her nails and picking at the chipping purple-sparkle varnish that covered them.

He opened his mouth.No, you got the picture you needed, was what he wanted to say but what came out instead was a raspy "Sure."

And fuck, her smile was so brilliant and bright and so damn heart-stopping, he felt dazed when she picked up the phone again, and he obediently pressed closer, his heart thundering so hard he was certain she could feel it against her shoulder. He couldn't hide the tremble of his hands on her stomach but he raised an eyebrow for this picture, letting his mouth do its own thing.

At least it was over and he couldn't make a fool of himself any more.

the situation

"I…" she started softly, quietly, when she lowered the phone, fiddling with it, finally done with pictures, "Thanks." She started to climb off him, the friction and heat of her body getting to the better of him, and they both froze at the noise that he let out, low and guttural like a wild animal. His cheeks burned like wildfire.

He couldn't find his voice as she twisted slightly, her hands catching his shoulders and fingers digging in. The slight ache sent a pang through him, fierce and hot, and he inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring to pull in more air as the blush that was surely on his face grew hotter, spreading over his ears.

"Sorry," he managed to choke out, his voice sounding as though he'd swallowed gravel for breakfast, and she didn't reply, even as her fingers flexed. The sensation sent a bolt straight to his groin and he clenched his hands into tight fists, biting down his lip until he could taste the heat of blood.

"It's…f-fi-ine," she murmured, her cheeks red under all the freckles and the sun-browned complexion as she ducked her head down, the soft scent wafting off her hair invading his lungs. God, why did she have to smell so good? "Do-on't—don't apologize." The reddening of her cheeks looked like strawberry icing, sweet and edible, and he had the urge to taste it. He had no doubt she'd be delicious.

He hissed, loosening his hands on his thighs to wrap over his knees, digging into the soft tissue there. Her soft, warm body on his felt so, so good; no one had ever touched him, lest of all like this. Inhaling through his flared nostrils, he tried to keep calm.

"Is it…bad…I-I like…" Exhaling deeply, she shuddered slightly, the tremors rocking her body against him. She shifted, and the friction made him swallow a groan, ducking his head because wasn't he so gross, so perverse to be enjoying her simply getting comfortable…except that she repeated the motion, rocking on his thigh, and the way she sighed heavenly told him she wasn't merely just getting comfortable.

"I'm—I'm sorry!" She abruptly jumped to her feet, stumbling away, eyes glassy and wide with terror. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Her voice was choked and soft, trembling. Her face was white, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Sorry. Oh my god, I can't—I just did…"

His embarrassment was palpable, thick and heavy on his tongue. His jeans felt so tight it hurt but he didn't bring it to attention; his gaze was focused on her face. "Hey, hey, what's—are you okay?" He held his hands up, the universal sign of peace, ready to stand up and placate her.

"I'm sorry!" Her voice came out in a broken sob as a steady flush worked across the tops of her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Her eyes shimmered with tears as she started to back away, yelping when he stood and crossed the short distance between them easily within a few strides.

Girls weren't his forte, especially crying ones, but he could at least try. "What's wrong?" he asked, reaching for her arm, to pull her close, and when he did, she let out a weak little moan that went straight south, totally not helping his situation.

"N-nothing!" she insisted, "I'm—"

He huffed loudly, scowling. "If you apologize one more time, I swear…" He let the half-hearted threat hang, watching as the patches on her cheeks bled into more of her face, across the tops of her little ears, and he swallowed hard. Even though he'd met her only today, he couldn't stop himself from imagining how far down her blush went, imagining pushing her little blue shirt up her belly, a purple bra cupping her perky tits, and that pink all over her chest, tasting the heat of her skin with his tongue.

They stood there for the longest time, until the bell rang loudly, signaling the end of the lunch period.

Her mouth dropped open at the same time the cafeteria doors opened and a flood of students came pouring by. "I'm fine," she said quietly, refusing to meet Derek's eyes as she pulled her arm free of his grasp with ease and melted into the crowd readily.

He couldn't help but watch her leave, drinking in the sway of her hair, the line of her back, the shape of her legs and the tantalizing shift of her ass before he turned and walked back to his class.

the text

The text flashed across his screen close to 10:30, the house noise winding down from dinner.

He'd arrived home in a haze—Tori smirking at him and Simon demanding to know what happened between him and Chloe—but he ignored his siblings in favor of hiding in his bedroom, keeping to himself as much as possible to avoid being targeted, and escaped back to his safe-haven bedroom once dinner was done.

(716) 833-5570: Hey, I'm really sorry about this afternoon. I didn't mean to be so creepy? I guess. At least Tori will leave me alone, and you won't have to deal with me anymore.

He had a hunch on who it was. This is Chloe, right? Don't apologize; I should be the one…He stopped, staring at the new messages that had flooded his screen while he was texting.

(716) 833-5570: I'm sorry. So sorry. For being a creep. For…liking that. It's weird, right? There I go, putting my foot in my mouth. I think I'll just go to bed now.

He chewed his cheek. Don't apologize. You're not creepy. It was kind of…hot. Knowing you liked me like that. I mean, you're you and I'm, well, me. Besides it was a first for me.

When she didn't immediately reply, he panicked slightly. Had he overstepped? Misread the situation? Maybe she really had been trying to get comfortable? Maybe he was just a massive virgin pervert for popping a hard on when she sat on his thigh, the heat of her cunt so delicious and hot against his leg.

Just as he moved to shoot her a text apologizing and back-tracking, he saw she'd replied.

(716) 833-5570 [maybe Chloe]: You thought it was hot? Not creepy?

He was a little confused. Why would I think a cute girl grinding on my leg was creepy? His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he read the text he'd sent. He'd never done anything remotely like this with anyone, and he could feel his heart beating too fast and hard in his chest, a tingling shiver running down his spine when his phone buzzed yet again. Without looking at her response, he added her under Chloe and then went back into the chat log.

Chloe: You think I'm cute…? But I'm me.

He quickly responded. That's exactly why I got hard in the first place. You're kind of most guys' dream girl: blonde hair, big blue eyes…

Three rapid dots appeared and disappeared. Was she writing a paragraph telling him to fuck off? He peeked over at his closed bedroom door and was thankful for the late time. Despite the fact he was wearing sweatpants, the fact they were obviously tented would be grounds for one of his siblings to mock him if they burst in right now if they were awake.

Chloe: What else?

He swallowed hard. Long legs that lookedkiller in those jeans. I couldn't stop staring at you as you walked away.

Chloe: Fuck. Is it…is it bad I'm…touching myself? Thinking about sitting on your leg? How it felt?

His heart stopped and his stomach swooped. Blood pounded in his veins. Fingers shaking as he typed, No. That's hot…fuck. Saliva pooled in his mouth as he thought of the unmarked curvature of her throat, her breathy little moans, how tiny she'd felt under his hands.

Chloe: Do you want me to stop?

There was an extra pulse in his sweatpants now as he stared at the text. Do you want to? Stop, I mean. If you aren't entirely comfortable…I won't be mad. We can just talk or whatever. If you want. If you don't think I'm a giant pervert for having a hard on right now just like when you sat on my lap.

He turned onto his side, looking out the window, watching the moonlight peek through, slants of shadow and light playing across his bedroom floor. Yeah, he'd be bummed if they quit now, when his cock was pulsing and hard as nails but he'd rather they stop if she wasn't on board than continue and have her regret it.

Chloe: Is it bad I don't want to, even though this is my first time texting anyone like this? I've never even held hands with anyone. And I don't know…you don't even like me.

He couldn't help the strained laugh that escaped him, too loud in the silence of his room. I've never done this either, Chloe. I'm as new to this as you are. I've never even been alone with a girl until earlier today. And I could easily see myself liking you. I'm just wondering when I'll wake up and realize this is a dream.

Derek's heart pounded against his ribcage as he eagerly, pathetically, waited her reply. It was nearing ten-thirty now, and he had to slog through tomorrow but talking to her like this was worth it.

Chloe: Derek, I've liked you since sophomore year. I never would have the courage to talk to you, but Na te and Simon have been encouraging me, and Tori's dare helped me too. Just a picture. One. That was all I needed. The others were for me. As was the grinding. I…can I tell you something? It's kind of TMI.

Rolling his eyes, he rolled onto his side and replied, Go right ahead. You forget I live with the King of TMI.

Radio silence for several minutes.

Chloe: I'm touching myself thinking about this afternoon. I'm so wet and I can't help but think about how you sounded and felt against me. It's not fair.

No, it wasn't.

Because he would be thinking about her now, maybe on her bed, maybe in a T-shirt and shorts, hand down her panties, that pretty flush all over her face, eyes squeezed shut. He thought she'd have a bush, if he was honest, just soft, downy strawberry-blonde curls, and there'd be a wet patch at the front of her panties—

His hand shook as he reached into his briefs, wrapping his fingers around his cock, feeling the sensitive flesh there. It's okay. Fuck, now I'm gonna be thinking about you, how wet you'd be, pink and soft, panties wet. I feel like a pervert for saying this but I'm stroking myself right now, imagining you.

Chloe: Shit, that's…like, really hot? It feels so good, and my hips keep moving. I've never been so wet, and I have a lot of time on my hands at night and, uh, a very creative imagination.

Derek swallowed hard, his throat dry. Did you ever think of me before tonight?

Chloe: Am I a pervert if I say yes?

His fingers shook as he typed one-handed, digging his teeth into his top lip. His cock was pulsing in his underwear, heavy and hot against his sheets. He had to know now that the idea had been planted into his brain. No. What did you think of? Of us doing. I keep imagining how you look now, touching yourself while you text me, maybe biting your pillow to keep quiet.

Maybe it would be in the afternoon when she was home alone, that pretty flush all over her collarbones and shoulders, hair spilling on either side of her bowed head since she'd be on her belly, her fingers stroking her wet skin and rubbing her clit slowly. Would she think of wrapping her lips around the head of his cock? Or maybe she'd even imagined him eating her out?

The very fleeting thought of his mouth anywhere near her soaking pussy made him growl slightly.

Chloe: Of going further this afternoon. I could feel how big and hot and hard you were, and I wanted to put my mouth on you. Right there in the hallway.

Derek rolled onto his side, rolling his briefs down his thighs, and hissing at the sensation of his sensitive skin against his cold sheets. He was so hard, so swollen and hot, and he barely managed not to moan with everything he had. His shaking thumb struggled to type as he bent one leg up. You'd do that? Right then and there? Would you let me put my hands in your hair, guiding your mouth over me? Blood roared in his ears and boiled in his cheeks when he read her reply.

Chloe: Yes. My heart would be pounding but I was so wet and shaky it didn't matter, nothing mattered except you and me and making you come undone. Would you have let me? On my knees in that corridor?

There was a pulse matching the quick, heavy drumming of his heart in his temples. He stared at her message, squeezing his cock to keep from spilling all over his sheets, and began to stroke again, slowly, measuring his pace. His thumb trembled as he struggled to text out a reply. No, I'd probably be too nervous of being interrupted…if you were here, I wouldn't mind. Fuck, would you really suck me off?

He swallowed hard, his hips rocking slightly to the rhythm of his fist.

Chloe: If you asked me nicely. I've never done anything like it but—

He interrupted her quickly. Neither have I but I'm sure because it's you it would feel so good. Would you let me touch you? Pinch your nipples? Fuck, I'd love to suck them. I bet they're so sensitive. Almost immediately came her reply.

Chloe: Oh, they are. Sometimes I don't wear a bra, and I can feel the fabric of whatever shirt I'm wearing against them, and sometimes I feel like I could cum from just that.

He squeezed the base of his cock, his breathing heavy, feeling the blood rushing in his pelvis, the pulse in his thighs. He chewed his cheek, rocking his hips slightly, forcing his cock harder into the dry, hot palm of his fist.

He fumbled for the small travel-size of unscented lube he'd inconspicuously bought for this single purpose and managed to pop the cap up, squeezing a small dollop and rubbing it down the length of his erection.

Chloe: I…can I show you?

When Derek's eyes ran across the question, his heart very nearly stopped, and he had to remind himself that his family was asleep so he couldn't yell. Already his mind raced light years ahead of him, conjuring planes of smooth, freckled skin, soft, wet curls, pink pussy spread wide, little nipples standing straight, and he had to squeeze his hand at the base to keep from cumming right then and there with all his might.

Only if you want to.

Blood pounding in his ears, he gingerly began to stroke again, keeping his pace slow and his grip soft.

A quiet vibration pulled his attention away from his leaking, throbbing cock and he looked over to see she'd sent an image. He unlocked his phone with a trembling thumb and couldn't stop the low, muffled moan that slid between his teeth, hungry and animalistic.

Chloe was…mouthwatering. The photo she'd sent was from the waist up, baring just the tiniest bit of a thatch of strawberry-blonde curls, her little breasts topped with pink, puffy nipples straining in the air, a tumble of hair nestled in the curve of her throat. He could see her lips and chin and the bottoms of her cheeks, and god, he wished he could see those big, blue eyes, all hazy with lust.

Chloe: What do you think?

He readjusted his weight, chewing his lip as he debated on showing her his dick, and then pulled his sweatpants down to his thighs, gripping his throbbing cock in hand and snapping a picture. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he hit the send button and waited with bated breath.

Heat rushed to his face as time passed by, slowing to a crawl. The only sound he could hear was his own ragged panting and the blood in his ears as he pulled his hand away, feeling the throb of the rush of blood make his cock waver in the air.

Maybe…maybe it was a mistake to send her that. Maybe she didn't want an unsolicited dick pic. Maybe he read her wrong and he was so, so fucking dumb.

He swallowed hard, feeling the saliva scrape down his throat as he stared up at the ceiling even after he felt his phone buzz by her hand, too chickenshit to read it for a long minute. And then he grabbed it and unlocked it and stared.

It was a picture of her hand, gleaming with what he could only assume was her cum, her little pink tongue tasting herself, along with the caption I think you could split in me in two if you put that in me but I don't think I'd mind.

He wrapped his hand around his cock again and stroked, his pace quick and frantic, gazing at the photos and remembering the fragrant smell of her sweat and shampoo, the heat of her pussy against his thigh, the little noises and sharp gasps as she'd ground down on his leg, and Jesus Christ, did he come embarrassingly fast thinking about how soaking wet and slippery and hot her little cunt would feel against his hand if he slipped his fingers into her panties right there in that hallway.

Once his head quit swimming and he'd absently cleaned up with his dirty T-shirt from earlier, he managed to shoot her a text. Derek: Holy shit That was amazing. We should get to bed.

Chloe: Would you maybe wanna go out some time? Maybe like pizza or something?

He wasn't a dating type; girls thought he was creepy, gross, scary or a combination of all three. He'd never even been on a date. And here this tiny little blonde was asking him after they sexted for the first time. He'd have to be crazy—have to be an absolute asshole—to say no.

Derek: Sure. I guess we can talk in the morning. Thanks, by the way. I…I really liked that, and, even if we hadn't, I'd like to see more of you.

Her response was a simple pink heart.