What happened to as if, Little Sister? Or I’m going to bury you?
Those moments seem so far away from this one, as if an eon has passed rather than a handful of months. Doesn’t matter. The connection was there from the beginning, when we looked at each other and that hatred boiled up like flames, consuming us both.
Parrish was attracted to me, and he didn’t want to be.
I was attracted to him, and I didn’t want to be.
Birds of a feather.
My fingertips trace his body, feeling up his most intimate parts with a curiosity that burns.
I remember the way he shuddered at the café when my hair brushed against his skin, leaning forward and letting the frayed end of my braid tickle across his skin. He lets out a sharp hiss, eyes closing as I tighten my hand around his body. My mouth ends up on the side of his neck, tasting the slight saltiness of his skin. We both showered when we got back, rinsing the dust from the ATV accident off, so there’s a faint tang of soap there, mixed with Parrish’s naturally attractive scent.
Is it attractive to everyone or just me?
My lips kiss his pulse, tongue trailing down the side of his throat until I find his chest. Gently, so as not to hurt him, I scrape my teeth lightly against the scales of a blue-green dragon, following the length of it until I get to the tail. When I move back up, I get bolder, flicking my tongue across one of Parrish’s nipples.
“Holy shit,” he murmurs, shaking now, panting hard. “I can’t take much more of this.”
I pause briefly, lifting my head up to look at him.
“It’d be nice if we had some lube …” No sooner has the suggestion left my lips than Parrish is grabbing my hand away from his dick and bringing it to his mouth. He licks my palm with long, slow strokes of his tongue, wetting my skin as I stare at him in abject fascination. My own body is quivering, a pulsing at the apex of my thighs that makes me want to wiggle and writhe against him.
“Nice and wet.” He releases me, our eyes locked together as I find his velvety body again and wrap my fingers around him. His hips try to move with me, but I’m sitting atop his thighs, pinning him down, holding him in place.
We’re in the basement of his grandmother’s house, with Tess and Paul and the kids upstairs. It’s dangerous to do this, a huge risk to both our futures in this family. Yet it doesn’t matter. We may as well be in a different universe right now.
Ours mouth find one another again, tongues sliding together, tasting each other. It’s glorious, like the opening of a brand-new door that leads into an undiscovered world. I never want it to stop, this feeling that’s untangling inside of me, like a plant with reaching tendrils, blooming flowers, bloodied thorns.
Parrish is writhing now, his hands clamping down on my waist and squeezing hard. We’re pressing into one another, his pelvis pushing up off the bed, my own rubbing against his thighs. He starts to move faster, kisses me harder, building this hot frenzy between us that makes it hard to form rational thoughts.
When he shudders and digs his fingers even harder into my hips, I bite the side of his neck, and it’s game over. For him, anyway.
“Shit,” he murmurs, shaking and swallowing hard as I continue to run my tongue along his pulse. “Here.” Parrish sits up slightly, tearing his shirt and hoodie over his head and handing them to me. Presumably, it’s to clean up with. “Sorry about that,” he adds as I clean my fingers off with the fabric. It’s sort of … all over the place, but we’ll deal with that later.
“Sorry for what?” I ask, and then he’s grabbing the back of my head and kissing me all over again. He very carefully slides his hand under the waistband of my pj pants, making certain he doesn’t get any of his own release on his fingers. And then, oh my god, he strokes along the wetness of my panties, and I forget whether my name is Dakota or Mia or something else entirely.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Parrish asks, pulling back just enough that I can see the cocky, satisfied smirk on his lips. “You like that, Gamer Girl?”
“Very much so,” I breathe, gasping as he pushes the panties aside and slips a single finger into me.
“Roll over.” I don’t miss the way he repurposes my command from earlier nor do I miss the way that I also scramble to comply. As soon as his finger slides out, I miss it and wish it were back. I shove the pants down my hips and Parrish helps me tear them over my feet, chucking the fabric aside before he positions himself beside me. The fingers of his right hand stroke over the fabric of my panties, paying special attention to the places that make me gasp and writhe the most. “Tell me what you want,” he asks, biting my ear and making me wish we were alone so I could let out all the happy sounds resting on the tip of my tongue.
“Put two in,” I breathe back at him, and he makes this … god, this pleased purr that has me writhing all over again. Parrish kisses all over my face in a way that’s more affectionate than lustful, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever.
“Done.” Parrish does as I asked, slipping two fingers into the aching heat of my core, using his thumb to continue stroking my clit through the panties. He never stops kissing me either: on the mouth, the forehead, the neck. When he moves that hot mouth of his to the bralette and takes one of my nipples between his teeth, I almost die. No joke. Write that epitaph because I’m on my way.
That’s when I wonder if I’ll really do it right now, go all the way with him.
I want to.
Oh my god, I want to so badly …
“Hey Parrish,” I whisper, but it’s hard to think with his fingers sliding in and out of me the way they are. “Do you want to …?” I start, but I don’t get a chance to finish because he’s staring down at me with those beautiful eyes of his. It’s practically edible, that gaze. Honey and toasted coconut and chocolate, all twisted together in this powerful stare that has me quivering beneath him.
“Want to what?” he asks very carefully, very slowly, almost like he’s unwilling to put the idea in my head.
“If you have protection, we could maybe …” I trail off again and then suck in a deep breath. If you can’t say it, you’re not mature enough to do it. “Fuck?”
“Fuck?” he queries back at me, and I cringe. Not a great word choice maybe, but it’s already out there. Oops. Parrish pushes his fingers in even deeper, all the way to the knuckles, and I throw my head back into the pillows. “I don’t want to just fuck you, Dakota.”
Just fuck …
“What do you want to do then?” I whisper back, but then he’s covering my mouth with his own again, his hand moving faster, pushing in harder and deeper. The feel of him inside of me is exquisite, a sensation that I won’t soon forget. My stomach muscles clench so tight that they almost hurt, and I feel this coiling deep inside of me. It’s a pressure that needs release, a wave that wants to break. “Keep going,” I choke out, too far gone to finish our conversation just yet.
If he doesn’t want to ‘just fuck’ then what else does he want to do?
“Dakota, I—” Parrish starts, nuzzling against the side of my neck. He’s about to say something else; I’m about to fall through a wormhole into an entirely different universe, one that’s crafted of pure pleasure.