She’s quiet, though I can feel her body trembling. And I don’t think it’s from the cold windows either.
I kiss her in the same spot again, my fingers tangling in her hair. She lifts her other hand, both of them now braced on the glass, and I subtly nudge her body with mine, until she’s fully pressed against it.
And me.
She inhales sharply.
“Too cold?” I ask her, the words murmured on her skin.
“Yes,” she whispers. “But you’re warm.”
Resting one hand on her waist, I touch her cheek with the other, angling her head so she has no choice but to look up at me. “Don’t push me away, Birdy.”
I see the moment she gives in, how it flickers in her gaze, and she removes her hands from the window, turning so she’s fully facing me. “Crew…”
I kiss her before she can protest, or tell me to stop. And she doesn’t say anything after that. She gives in completely, her hands coming up to wind around my neck, her entire body leaning into me. Those plump tits press into my chest, and I race my hand up her side, my thumb drifting across her breast. She parts her lips to gasp, allowing my tongue entry, and a low groan leaves me as I deepen the kiss.
“What if someone sees us?” she whispers against my mouth.
I nip at her lower lip, making her whimper. “No one can see us. I promise.”
Opening my eyes, I stare out the windows, but there’s no one there. The snow is starting to come down harder, the light dimming in the cavernous room, thanks to the darkening sky, and I cup her cheek, tilting her head back, so I can devour her.
Our kisses soon turn into tongues and teeth and nibbling lips and panting breaths. Her hands slip beneath my uniform jacket, sliding down my back, and I press my hips against hers, letting her feel what she’s doing to me.
Wren breaks the kiss first, and I open my eyes to find her staring at me, her chest rising and falling against mine, her breaths quick. “We probably shouldn’t do this.”
“Why not?” I kiss her neck, licking a path to her ear with my tongue. She tilts her head, her eyes falling shut, her expression tortured. “I know you like it, Birdy.”
“Kissing leads to…other things. Things I’m not ready for.”
“You so sure about that?”
She swallows hard when I nibble her jaw. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me when to stop then.” Ah, I make it sound so easy, but I want this girl to forget herself and get carried away.
With me.
Because she needs it. Because she wants it.
Just like I want her.
TWENTY-FOUR
WREN
I’m plastered against the cold glass, a warm Crew pressing against me, his hard—yes, he’s actually hard—body so close to mine, I don’t think you could slip a piece of paper between us. His words are on repeat in my brain.
Tell me when to stop then.
He makes it sound so simple, when it’s not. I’m finally starting to understand why girls give in so easily to this— to sex. It feels so good, his mouth. His hungry kisses. His tongue. How it tangles with mine. His hands on my body. His rapidly beating heart and accelerated breathing, and those low humming noises he makes when he kisses me. As if I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.
It's heady stuff. I can feel that newly familiar pulsing between my thighs. The wetness growing there. The dull ache forming, and every bit of it, he’s responsible for.
I think he’s the only one who can ease the ache.
He kisses me until I can’t think. Tugs my white shirt out of my skirt, his fingers slipping beneath the crisp, wrinkled cotton to rest against my bare waist before they streak across my stomach.
I can’t breathe. Can only clutch his shoulders helplessly, my tongue dancing against his while he slowly but surely undoes me with his fingers. They slide up, skimming the bottom of my bra, and I wish with everything I had that I owned something frilly and pretty. Something that would make his eyes bug out of his head when he first saw it.
But I don’t. The nude-colored bra I’m wearing is plain and simple. No ribbon.
No lace.
“You want me to stop, Birdy?” He pants the words into my skin, my neck. His lips are hot, and so is his tongue, and when he licks me at the spot where my pulse throbs, I shake my head.
No. I don’t want him to stop. Not ever.
His hands land on my waist and he flips me around so my front is pressed into the window. His erection nudges against my butt, and I stare out at the falling snow, my lips parted, my mind racing with thoughts of seeing him naked. He feels huge.
I don’t know what I would do with it if I ever saw it for real.
He slides those expert hands down, until they’re playing with the hem of my skirt. And then they’re beneath it, his fingers on my backside, tracing the edge of my underwear. One, then the other. Back and forth, his fingers featherlight.
A gush of wetness floods my panties and I close my eyes, pressing my cheek to the glass, needing the cold to ease the heat consuming me. “Crew…”
“I should stop?” He removes his hands from my panties, and I whimper. “Your skin is so soft, little bird. It’s hard for me to quit touching you.”
I’m conflicted. I know I should say no. This has already gone way too far. He’s got an erection. He’s touched my bra. His hands were literally just under my skirt. This is everything I promised my father I wouldn’t do until I was with the man I plan on marrying.
But then those hands slip back under my skirt, a single finger sliding beneath my panties, and a moan leaves me, muffled by the window.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He dives deeper, his finger sliding into my folds and I arch my hips backward, wanting more. Fighting past the shame that wants to wash over me, my need too great. “Jesus, Wren.”
He teases my entrance, barely pushing forward, and shudders wrack my body. I can’t even imagine what I must look like, my upper body smashed against the window, my butt thrust out, Crew’s finger slowly pushing inside me…
“Oh God,” I choke out.
Crew pauses in his search. “You want me to stop?”
“No!” I might die if he stops now.
He slips his finger farther inside me, and I clench up tight. A ragged groan leaves him. “Relax.”
I try to, but I’m nervous and scared and excited. I’ve never let a boy do this to me before and it feels foreign. Odd. Wonderful. Delicious.
Every single one of those things, all at once.
“Am I hurting you?” he asks.
I shake my head, bracing my hands on the glass once again, and I open my eyes to watch the snow fall as Crew fingers me. He slides his finger in, all the way to the hilt, before dragging it back out, and oh God, the friction. I need more.
A shuddery breath leaves me when he pushes back inside, and I can feel him use his other hand to flip my skirt up, exposing my backside to him.
“You’re fucking killing me, Birdy. So hot,” he murmurs, and I can feel his gaze burning a hole into my skin from the intensity of his stare.
I remain quiet, not sure how to respond. My body starts to move with his finger, my hips rocking, and when he removes his hand from me completely, I want to burst into tears from the loss.
“Turn around,” he says roughly, his hands spinning my hips, so I have no choice but to face him. His mouth is on mine, his kiss so hungry, so intense, all I can do is hang onto him and let him consume me.
His hand slips beneath my skirt. Brushes the front of my panties. I cry out against his lips when he presses his fingers against me, rubbing slowly.
“You want me to stop now?” he asks, and I can hear the triumph in his voice.
He knows he’s got me.
“N-n-no,” I stutter, throwing my head back when he slips his fingers beneath the front of my panties, cupping me fully.
“You like this?”
I nod, unable to speak when he presses his thumb roughly against my clit.
A ringing starts, startling us both, and I crack my eyes open to find Crew already studying me, his brows lowered in displeasure. His fingers are still in my panties, the only sound beyond the ringing phone, our panting breaths mingling.
“That’s not mine,” he tells me, and I realize he’s right.