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It’s a kind of trust I’ve never given and never received.
It would be an entirely different kind of trust, to be able to allow somebody to do as they pleased with me and to know that I would be safe as they did so. It’s terrifying. Thrilling.
I shouldn’t give it so much purchase in my thoughts, letting it eat away at my confidence, make me second-guess everything.
The thoughts haunt me all the way to the couch as I eat a snack, brush my teeth, wash my face, and crawl under the sheets. I can’t shake the way he makes me feel under all the foolish fighting, the bickering, and all of my childish refusal to obey him.
Tossing and turning, I flop on my side, trying to get comfortable, trying to force away the pent-up frustration I built up from watching the show, from our fight.
I need it to go away. I need release.
Quivers of anticipation shoot up my thighs, begging me to just give in and let my fingers do what they’re itching to do. Or better, the little toy I keep in my nightstand. Back at the house. Shit.
There’s one thing I forgot.
I stare into the dark, at the wall across from me, chewing on my lip.
Gavin’s door is closed, as usual. He was asleep when I got home.
I imagine bursting into his room, slipping into the covers, running my hands down into his shorts…
No. He warned me never to wake him suddenly. He’d probably snap my neck in his sleep. And I can’t just jump my dad’s best friend because I’m horny. Not that I don’t want to most days, anyway…
But that confusing thought is a bedtime mind game for another night.
Tonight, the thought of Gavin being right there, ten feet away, while I touch myself is enough to get me panting, tugging at my ponytail and pressing my legs together so tightly that I want to scream.
It's anger at Evan, anxiety over everything. It’s fooling around with Tell, close proximity to Gavin, Ora’s party, and the Cormorants’ sex show… Evan’s tattooed body as he dragged his impossibly curved and rock-hard erection between his partner’s ass cheeks, through her slick folds…
All added up to the most aroused I’ve probably ever been in my life.
One finger slides down my belly, from my sternum, across my belly button and toward my clit. I can barely wiggle that single finger into the crease, my legs and ass flexed so hard and tight with wavering control.
I want it to be him, feel like it’s his orgasm to give me when I come.
I want that control to be in his hands.
His decision.
That fine line between giving permission and having him take what he wants, how he wants it. Fighting back just slightly, resisting enough to make the pleasure slow and painfully drawn out.
That single finger slips down, dragging my arousal back up from my entrance to swirl up over my peaked bud.
Once. Twice.
Inching around the lip, top to bottom. Teasing down, deeper, but not inside. Not yet.
The pressure inside me doubles, triples with each flick of my finger, his finger.
Better, his tongue…
The tension in my muscles becomes pain, fatigue piling up with the rolling waves of ecstasy cascading up and down my back, demanding that I fill my desperate need.
Give in.
Give up. Let it all out.
Unbearable sensation shudders across my skin, just underneath the surface.
