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His handsome face transformed into a smile, but part of me knew it was a facade. He was upset and my stomach roiled at the thought of disappointing him.
Drew’s strong hand found my thigh and my cock swelled. My eyes fluttered and a hiss formed behind my lips. His chiseled, clean-shaven jaw begged to be licked.
In the full-length mirror, I watched as Drew leaned over and whispered, “I hear congratulations are in order.”
“Um…”
How did he know about my mom’s marriage? I know for a fact he wasn’t within earshot when I told my friends yesterday. Drew’s warm, masculine cologne clouded my senses as I felt his hot breath on my ear when he added, “I’m not happy that Theresa’s taking you away from me.”
Drew was always so careful to keep his touches, his words, those promising threats—or were they threatening promises?—at a minuscule distance. He’d make the first contact but it was always up to me to close the gap. I desperately wanted to touch him, to press my lips against his, and I’d been able to resist except that one time.
He knew his power over me but I felt drunk with desire.
Deep down I knew this was wrong. That we shouldn’t be alone like this, behind a locked door, with a floor-length mirror placed where I could watch his hand inch closer and closer toward my rock-hard erection.
The very forbidden nature of it all was nearly impossible to resist.
“Sorry,” I gasped out even though I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for. It wasn’t like I could control my mom’s actions. In the mirror, my expression was far away, dreamy.
I watched as his fingers slid up—or was it that my hips bucked?—and, through the fabric of my shorts, he lightly skimmed the sensitive underside of my pulsating cock. “I like it when you’re contrite, Ciaran.”
My eyes rolled into the back of my head. The blood coursing through my veins was on fire. Here he was, in his professional attire of a light blue buttoned-up shirt rolled up to his forearms, a charcoal pair of slacks that revealed slim hips and muscular legs, leaning over me. His weight was delicious; his muffled moans threw my heart into the stratosphere.
It was difficult to keep my hands to myself once I spotted the large bulge in his pants. It was thrilling to know I did that to him.
“So the beautiful Theresa Galbraith was tamed by the infamous Stefon Vaulteneau,” Drew murmured in my ear.
His words took me out of my own head. “How did you find out?”
“Ciaran, Ciaran, Ciaran,” he said in his soft, yet authoritative tone. He tskd. God, the way he said my name was like a verbal orgasm. My hips involuntarily thrust and his hand palmed me. Drew groaned huskily. I wanted to grind into it, into him, to breathe in his essence, the way his breath smelled like coffee and something else, something sweet, like brandy. “Your mom called the school this morning.”
“Oh,” I breathed out.
Through the fabric of my shorts, his hand circled my tent of an erection, firm and demanding. Lightheaded, I watched his slow, methodical strokes in the mirror.
The air was erotically charged once I realized he was watching me watch him. My head fell back against the couch and I felt the gentlest flutter of his wet lips on my exposed neck, as if he was struggling to hold himself back. Was it a game? Was it real? I could never tell, but in that moment I felt like I held all the power in the room.
“I’m hurt you didn’t tell me yourself,” he complained while speeding up his movements.
“I’m sorry, Drew,” I moaned out. He rewarded me with a pleasurable squeeze.
I could lean into his lips. I could let him taste me, taste the salt on my skin, let him inhale me. All I had to do was say something. All I had to do was give him permission. That was his rule.
“Say it again,” he demanded.
“I’m so sorry, Drew.”
His hand sped up. Fuck, I was not going to last much longer. I wanted his mouth on me. I wanted skin to skin. I wanted him in me.
If only I knew how to breathe.
Conflicting emotions battled for space in my mind. Even I knew that ejaculating in my gym shorts would be a horrible idea, especially at school.
“How are you going to make it up to me?” he asked.
I took a deep breath, I tried to think about something else—the AP World History test—to withstand the primal urge of letting Drew have his way with me. It’d be okay, right? I was moving away next week. It’d be like a parting gift.
Drew, as if he were telepathic, seemed to understand my thoughts, because one second his hand was at my cock and the next he was guiding me onto his lap and tugging at the elastic band of my shorts.
