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My breaths puff out on jagged waves as the warmth of his chest seeps into my palms, my knees digging into the couch cushions on either side of him. Adrenaline spikes through my brain at his presence, much too close to mine and mine much too close to his, and God does he smell good and—
He sweeps my hair off one shoulder, his voice hoarse when he says, "Close your eyes," as his capture mine, bluer than the pool below, than any ocean wave or mountain spring.
When I don't move a muscle, his hands trail down my spine, torturously slow, a shiver following their wake, before he grabs two fistfuls of my ass. By now, I can barely make out his words a second time, drowned out by the blood pounding in my ears.
"Close your eyes."
"But why—"
His lips latch onto my neck, right as I hear what I believe is a door click, but I'm not sure, not when I'm incapable of forming a single coherent thought.
I inhale sharply on contact, going rigid, as does he, until he kisses my skin lightly, cautiously, like the first taste of some delicate appetizer. And the groan that follows has my eyes fluttering shut and back arching into him, before he grips my nape, angles my head to his liking, and dives in for more.
A moan breezes past my lips, then another, when he works up the length of my skin, stopping at the crook between my neck and jawline. He suctions there, the noises from his lips resounding through the air, as he threads fingers thread through my hair, tugging at the root, focused on that one spot.
The attention is suffocating, so intense that I squirm in his grasp, panting like a wild thing, my cover-up riding up my waist as I sway my hips, my center sliding across something harder than granite.
"Mmmmm." His growl caresses my ear, full of hunger and untapped control, rippling a shudder through me. He bucks back against me, the movement spreading my legs farther and blooming pleasure out from my core.
Then my hands are in his hair, exploring its silkiness, while he suctions harder and harder, his teeth branding my delicate skin and tongue darting between his lips in tandem to soothe up the burn. Stifling another moan, I rock back and forth, building a sensation so sweet that—
A snicker breaks through our space, coupled with some juvenile woos and ow-ows!, enough to free me from my lust. Just barely.
"Ohhhh, man," a male voice teases. "Should we leave you to it, big dog?"
A possessive growl rumbles against me, this one nearly primal and tinged with anger, before Hayden's lips pop from my skin, releasing their suction. "No, come on in," he says, his voice like gravel.
And it isn't until he helps me back into the spot next to him, while giving his friends the shortest introduction of me possible, that shame burns my cheeks, shrinking me until I'm so, so small.
We didn't need to take it that far. What was I thinking? Was I even thinking? Now I'm sitting here, with a puddle in my bikini bottoms, throbbing between my legs, and a bruise forming on my neck, hardly able to look a single person in the eye, sitting around my brother's friends who—
I arch a brow. Who don't give a flying fuck???
Bros in polos or no shirts at all take their seats across the coffee table, and some right up next to us, while girls in scanty bikinis plop down on their laps. In a mere minute, they're taking bong rips, throwing back shots, setting up a game of beer pong, and filling the cabana with loud chatter.
I blink. Is it just me, or did they not just watch the intro to a live-action porno?
With my mouth ajar, I swing my head, finding Hayden staring down at me, smug as ever. But why? Why is he so pleased when his friends couldn't care less and I apparently have nothing to be ashamed of?
Wait. My shoulders droop. If his friends don't give a crap... that would mean...
He smirks, resting a hand on my thigh.
There's no reason to stop.
As I'm about to protest, his thumb begins tracing tiny circles along my skin, causing me to suck in my bottom lip. A shadow of satisfaction clouds his eyes, before he turns his head and starts up a conversation with the man to his right, which I can hardly hear.
Then I all but melt into the couch, not uttering a word to another soul, unbothered if they care or I care or anyone or anything. I just focus on his touch, which keeps a constant pace and steady pressure as it grazes down the inside of my thigh, but never close enough to where I want it.
The. Entire. Time.
For how long, I don't have the slightest idea. But by the time the group exits the balcony with bottles full of booze in their hands and a craving for the dance mob breaking out down below, only a sliver of the sun peeks above the horizon.
The door shuts, leaving us alone.
I don't move. I don't jerk back like always. I only sit, speechless, as the gears in my brain belonging to desire and common sense grind in a deadly duel. My gaze flicks up and down, between Hayden's wanting stare and his hand, still on my thigh.
"I'm... I'm going to..."
