She’s so goddamn beautiful, I feel every ounce of anger at her fade the longer I look at her.
Sadie Gray is in my house, in the doorway to my room, looking like every fantasy I’ve ever had, wrapped in a silk bow.
“Hey,” I choke out, throat hoarse as my eyes scan the expanse of her pale legs from knee to the high cut of her very short silk dress. I’ve touched that same silk before, I realize, and there’s some dark possessive part of me that warms at the sight of it.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she says, and I realize I’m smiling like an idiot.
I swallow back the immediate insistence I want to make, that this is fine. No worries, I’m just glad you’re here.
She could’ve showed up in a shirt that said STOP TRYING, HOTSHOT. I’M NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND, and I’d still be as happy to see her.
Because I crave Sadie like an addiction.
“You’re here now,” is the best I can do, because I don’t want to waste any of the time I have with her on anything but comfort. She makes me feel warm and solid, whole again.
I step to the side and stretch my arm behind my head, cheeks going pink at the slight disarray of my room. It’s not messy, but it’s well lived-in, as I’ve barely left my room this week.
The anxiety has been worse. Enough that I skipped two days of classes, fully unable to get myself out of bed. I rolled through multiple nightmares, showering sweat off and washing my sheets every day because they were soaked through.
But now, everything seems still. And seeing Sadie standing in the middle of the room, sliding off her leather jacket and hanging it off my desk chair, there’s an innate rightness to it. Like she’s finally where she’s meant to be.
Here. With me.
“Happy birthday, hotshot,” she says, but there’s an apologetic tinge to her usually fiery taunt. It chips away at the lingering resentment until I want to toss her on the bed and shove that silk up to her stomach.
I wonder if she notices it’s her music playing soft and low through my surround sound, The Neighbourhood crooning “A Little Death” in the background of this fantasy come to life.
“Thanks.” I smile, genuine and small, following past her to sit on the bed. She’s just a smidge taller than me like this, the heels of her boots—black leather I’ll be unable to get out of my fucking head from now on—giving her the added height. She steps between my legs, hand held behind her back with a little pouch that I saw her pull from the pocket of her jacket.
“I got you something.”
Her other hand grabs mine from my thigh, before dropping the pouch into my hand. I pull on the ribbon to open the plastic, dumping the contents into my palm.
A black hockey puck, and a stretchy bracelet. I squeeze the hockey puck in my palm, watching it give and release.
“It’s, um… a stress ball. Like, you squeeze it and it helps distract your thoughts or center them? My brother has one, and it helps his anxiety,” she says, shrugging and tucking her hair back again.
“That’s… that’s really nice,” I say, feeling lame as the words leave my lips. It’s more than that. It’s everything. It’s a piece of me that only she holds the key to. It’s the acceptance of me as I am, by the only person that matters right now. “And the bracelet?”
She giggles as I pull the blue and gray beaded bracelet up to inspect it, where little block letter beads spell out hotshot.
A laugh bursts from me and I slide it on immediately.
“It’s a joke.”
Not to me, I want to say. I’ll never take it off.
Instead, I wrap her in my arms and tug her down into my lap with a groan.
“Time for me to show my thanks, yeah?” I ask, breathing lightly into her ear and pressing kisses just beneath it. “Lay back.”
She shoves off me too fast, and I grapple for her, but she escapes my hands.
“Take off your pants.”
I’m standing before I can even think about it, looking at her as she lazily leans back on her elbows on the bed. Her, just like this, with the thin little strap drooping off her freckled shoulder, pulling the gray fabric enough that I’m close to getting a glimpse of her pert, pink nipple.
My mouth waters as she reaches up and pulls all her hair high on her head, cooling her neck, before letting the dark strands spill across her skin.
I shove my jeans to my ankles, stepping out of them without tripping as I refuse to take my eyes off her for one second. Her hands only hesitate once, her fingers curl into the top of my boxer briefs and she looks up at me for assurance.
I nod like a fucking bobble head, groaning as she pulls them down to stretch over my thighs and free my dick.
“Oh.” She breathes, her face so close I can feel it. My hips flex involuntarily, and she stutters the movement as her hand grasps me at the base.
“You’re… very big.” She blushes, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her look at all intimidated.
I’m not small, but she’s a foot shorter than me and so small, she’s making me look huge in her little hand. Too delirious to speak, I just nod.
“I’ve never—I mean; the guys I’ve been with—”
My hand grips her chin hard, jealousy boiling in my gut at the suggestion.
“Finish that sentence, I dare you. I guarantee it’ll be you on your knees this time, not me.”
The mild threat and my hard grip seem to wake her from her shyness.
She bites her lip and sinks to her knees in front of me with a sultry smile.
“You’re acting like that wasn’t the plan all along.”
Without warning, she takes me deep, and my breath stutters out in a moaned curse, my hands gripping into her hair because I feel like my knees are going to give out.
When I regain my balance, I look down to see her wicked attitude still shining through the cat-like gray eyes, watery and still locked on my face.
I’m going to come too fast.
That, or tell her I love her or something worse.
So I pull her back off of me, trying not to focus on the way spit drips from her mouth, and her lips still perfectly colored. Seeing the smudge of her lipstick on my fucking dick makes me squeeze myself at the base to calm down.
I shove her back onto the bed, covering her little body with mine as I pull that silk between my fingers, shoving it up her stomach to cup her pussy.
“It’s my birthday, so I get to choose my prize, don’t you think?”
Her eyes are glazed, all the fight from my spitfire skater gone. Her body always relaxes under my touch, and it fills me so fully with satisfaction and possession that I have to smother the urge to bang on my chest.
I pull the straps from her shoulders down, seeing her chest bared to me. Braless, skin flushed all the way to her fucking nipples. My mouth seeks them first, licking and sucking softly, almost teasing in a way that drives her wild.
For such a fierce girl, she thrives under a softer touch.
Her body shivers and I grip her bare waist a little harder in my hands.
“Mmm.” I hum against her skin. “Do you like that, Gray?”
She nods and I grab for her chin again, pulling back to look down at her.
“Say it,” I beg.
Instead, she pulls her hand from her side, licking her palm and reaching down to grasp my cock.
I buck instinctually into her fist, whimpering into her neck as she works me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She hums a little louder and my eyes blink open to look at her, so small beneath me and yet in total control again.
“Do you like that, hotshot?” she taunts, and I groan.
This. The push and pull for control—god, I want her forever.
“You’re killing me, Gray,” I growl out, jerking her up. I’m so fucking close already and seeing her skin flush as she pleasures me only makes it worse. Her eyes are glittering, a little smile quirking the corner of her red mouth.
I kiss her, hard and insistent as we both moan into each other’s mouths at the contact. Her tongue wastes no time in tangling with mine until she rubs her hand over the head of my cock and I pull back with a gasp.
Her lips press their way down my chin, and I hope she leaves a mark on me.
Like granting my birthday wish, Sadie’s teeth sink into the skin at the base of my neck with a little bite and I come hard, stars flashing behind my eyes.
It takes me longer than normal to come down from the high, but I do, slumping back onto the mattress as Sadie pushes my weight down and climbs over me. I hear her heels on the floor, the sound of the sink on and off, and then look towards my bathroom to see her leaning on the door frame.
She’s still dressed, silk straps pushed back up onto her shoulders, leather boots still on, while I’m splayed naked across the bed.
My dick twitches at the sight of her.
I prop my head up, flexing my abs lightly as she saunters towards me.
“It’s my birthday, remember,” I say, eyes sparkling. “And I still want dessert.”
She leans over me and we kiss again, slow and steady.
“Whatever you want, hotshot.”
I should tell her to climb on top of me and sit on my face in the way I’ve been thinking about for weeks.
Instead I say, “Stay the night with me?”
She freezes for a second, her body still as she settles straddling my abdomen. I can feel the heat of her against my skin and for a moment I want to say nevermind and drag her body up to devour her.
But I wait, and she finally huffs a breath.
“Okay,” she whispers. “I’ll stay tonight.”
I make her come three more times—like a reward for her answer, or proof of why I’m worthy of her time—before we fall asleep naked under the sheets of my bed.
But when my alarm goes off the next morning, she’s gone and the sheets are ice cold.
