Page 40 of I Wish I Would've Warned You

“Because if it were any other way, I would want you to kiss me and tell me I’m not a fucking psychopath for feeling the way I do about my mom.” Tears fall down her face. “I’d want you and I to have a potential future, but that’s not possible, so—I’m ready to go home.”

Silence.

“Do you mind unlocking your car now?” she asks. “I would really like to?—”

I press my lips against hers before she can complete her sentence.

She parts her lips like she’s been waiting, like this is what the poem was really building toward. Her mouth is hot, soft, hungry. She rises on her toes, pressing harder, fingers curling in the fabric at my chest.

I tilt my head, deepen the kiss. Slide my hand to the back of her neck, the other gripping her hip tight enough to bruise.

She moans against me—quiet but unfiltered—and that’s all it takes.

I pin her hips against the brick wall, careful but firm, never breaking contact. Her spine arches slightly, chest brushing mine, rain hitting her arms as her hands climb to my shoulders.

Her thighs shift, brushing mine, and her body presses harder.

She slides a hand into my pants, catching me slightly off guard, but the taste of her mouth is too sweet for me to let go just yet.

My cock hardens in her hand, and for a moment I try to remember why I shouldn't be doing this. Why this is the exact line I promised myself not to cross.

But that moment passes fast. She says my name, and everything else drops away.

“Emily…” I bite down on her bottom lip and she gasps.

But her hand doesn’t stop.

I shouldn’t be touching her again. I shouldn’t be letting this happen. I already know this is the point of no return—but I can’t stop. I don’t want to.

I slide a hand under her dress, caressing her thighs.

Pushing her panties to the side, I rub my fingers against her clit—stalling when I feel how soaking wet she is.

“Fuck…” I slowly slide a finger inside her, and she sucks in a breath as I push it as far as it can go, then slip in another.

She’s gripping me, pulsing, hips moving against my hand like we’re not pressed up against a wall in the middle of a city we don’t belong to.

“Is this what you want?” I whisper.

She moans as I thrust my fingers in and out of her, as I bite her skin while she moans against me.

My cock is rock hard, and the feel of her hand trailing up the shaft, combined with the way she clenches around my fingers, has me fighting not to lose it too soon.

“Move your hand away from me, Emily,” I manage. “Now.”

She slowly obeys, and I rub my thumb against her clit before plunging my fingers back inside.

“Show me how you’d ride my dick,” I whisper against her lips. “Fucking show me.”

Staring into my eyes, she moves her hips against me, slow and deliberate. Teasing. Testing.

She tightens around my fingers, and when I feel her legs tremble, when I hear her say my name like it means something?—

I kiss her hard and let her fall apart.

She comes with a stuttered breath, her body shaking, and her hand slides back down my jeans.

She strokes me as I press kisses along her jaw.

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