Page 13 of Discord
Thankfully, Brandon didn’t object to providing it during this temporary truce. Instead of removing me from his lap, he slid his hands to interlace them behind his head. His eyes searched mine meaningfully. There was a challenge written in them, a silent invitation.
He was permitting this but felt less responsible if I were the aggressor. Did he interlock his hands to restrain the urge to touch me?
I chewed on my bottom lip.
Considering his determination not to touch me, sex was presumably off the table. Brandon wouldn’t cross that line with me again. It wasn’t illegal, but sex with an underaged girl—specifically me—was tied to the very little code of conduct Brandon exercised. He wouldn’t be able to face himself for knowingly “violating” a teenager. He could barely stomach it when he found it.
There were other ways of seeking comfort while maintaining this invisible boundary of his. We were only separated by the thong underneath my knee-length sweater dress and his jeans. If I moved on him, he’d hit my clit for that never-ending type of pleasure.
Consumed by the idea, I didn’t realize when my body had started rocking against his shaft. He hissed. “Is this what you need right now?”
I nodded, fingers digging into his chest as I rubbed myself against his erection. He let me chase the friction, watching me under hooded eyes and scorching a path down my body.
However, even for a one-time consolation, I needed more than his heated eyes to appease the unbearable ache between my thighs. It had been too long, and I was slick with want. Suddenly desperate for it. Desperate forhim.
An unknown siren had taken over, thirsty with only one objective in mind. With meek resolve, I tugged my dress to bunch it around my hips and reached for my thong. I yanked the drenched fabric to the side, feeling the coarse material of his jeans against my exposed skin.
Swallowing, I cautiously pulled at his belt. Once more, I expected Brandon to stop me. He didn’t, seemingly mesmerized by the sight of my hands undoing his jeans and pulling him out of his boxers. I repositioned my sex, my lips parting as his thick cock slid between them.
Brandon groaned at our first raw contact. “Fuck.” With furrowed brows, he concentrated on keeping his hands in place by balling them into fists.
I ground against him, curling my fingers into his t-shirt. His dick was hard enough to burst while my clit throbbed desperately.
“Does that feel good?” he grated, chest rising and falling.
“Yes,” I moaned through parted lips.
A sloppy wet mess gathered on his jeans from the liquid heating pouring out of my bare pussy. He wasn’t inside me but rubbing against his hard cock was punishment enough for my sensitive nerve bundles.
“God,” I sobbed.
“Shit,” he growled. His earthy, low, and sexy as fuck voice was the last straw, letting me explode into a million pieces.
“Oh, God. Oh, God.” I writhed on top, gyrating my hips rigorously. “I’m coming.”
“I’ve been dreaming about that sound for months,” he rasped before I became aware of his cock pulsing between my lips.
I groaned. God, I wanted to see his body come for me, even if he refused to touch me. I needed to hear my effect on him, though his mouth might deny the words.
With renewed encouragement, I roughly ground my pussy against his cock once more. My eyes rolled back, and I bucked against him. The wet spot underneath me spread as hot liquid leaked out of him.
Brandon rose to a seated position and covered my mouth with his, barely suppressing the roar he let spill and the scream I failed to silence. I came a second time, climaxing until I saw spots.
I stared with fascination at the cum oozing between us. Driven by unhinged instincts, I dropped lower and swiped my tongue over his lower abdomen before licking off the cum.
Brandon recouped from his sated shape. “Holy shit, Mia,” he sounded awed, his cock stirring in my hold while I licked him clean. A fair exchange so he could return to his room without cum stained jeans, though leaving was the farthest thing on our minds. Brandon’s fingers curled into my hair while my cheek rested against his hard chest. Depleted from the day’s efforts, I couldn’t move from the hold and panted heavily.
The sudden sound of cold air blowing out the vent jogged my awareness. I stared at the mess between us, a picture-perfect terrible decision made under emotionally charged duress. My heart iced over as reality came crashing down. This was Raven’s room. She would have lost it had she walked in on us.
Brandon sensed the radiating tension and stopped running his fingers through my hair. He shifted my hips to put my underwear back in place and buckle his belt. With a certain awkwardness, I attempted to climb off, but Brandon flattened a hand on my back and tucked my face against his chest. He stood with minimal effort, lifting me with an arm wrapped around my middle. My legs dangled as he smoothed my dress down and moved toward the bedroom door.
“What’re you doing?” I mumbled, confused. My throat felt raw, and it took significant effort to speak.
He carried me out of Raven’s room without responding.
“Are you insane? Someone might see you,” I protested when he dawdled into my room instead and slammed the door shut.
“Everyone’s downstairs,” he replied.
