Page 21 of Discord
“Fuck,” I gritted. “Why aren’t you wearing a bra?” Though my words sounded angry, the frustration was directed at the situation—not Mia—because anyone could walk in on us. Only one noise too loud separated others from arriving with pitchforks and leading a witch hunt for the man to hurt their youngest.
I was past caring about their opinions. I had never been this hard, my cock practically bursting at the seam and vibrating with need. There was a violent impulse to do the unthinkable with her family next door.
My mind had been in a state since last night. I knew Mia wasn’t right for me. Life with her would be a no-win situation. Hurricane Mia rampaged rooms within minutes of her arrival. If we lived together, she’d leave the kitchen disorganized and pile clothes on the floor instead of the hamper. She’d go through my shit, snoop, and eavesdrop on my conversations. Not to mention, Mia would dent my reputation, and once more, the past about my family would be dragged out in the open. I could deal with being an asshole, but not the other label bestowed upon my father.
I’d lose everything over a teenager—my reputation, career, the last morsel of morals. In exchange for the picturesque life, Mia wouldn’t even be all in, not if her brother forbade it.
I could have overlooked the rest if the latter didn’t seal the deal.
But the purple bruises on her pale skin snuffed out my previous bitterness and righteousness. It triggered a dreadful notion, one I had never considered before.
Mia could have died.
Someone wrapped their hands around Mia’s fragile throat. What if they had held on for a few minutes too long?
I shook my head, unable to process the bleak existence to follow. The ambiguity in Mia’s mortality had left me numb since last night.
Death didn’t scare me. It had been a constant in my life since my teenage years. This was different. I wouldn’t survive Mia’s death. There’d be no point continuing in a world where Mia couldn’t spout off about Myanmar, the Middle East, or Global Warming.
I lost the battle of will at the unimaginable thought. Before I could talk myself out of the terrible impulse, I grabbed the back of her tank top and tugged.
Mia yelped. “Brandon! Wha—”
I yanked at her shirt again, dragging Mia’s petite frame along with it to the nearest privacy I could secure—the pantry closet. I shoved her inside, not bothering with the lights. I pushed Mia against the pantry door, effectively closing it with her body weight. We were engulfed in darkness, though I could still make out her silhouette.
Mia stood facing me, panting with similar anticipation. My fingers dropped between her thighs to push her loose sleeping shorts and underwear to the side. The feel of her slick heat welcomed me.
Mia trembled. “Oh, my God.” The eternal straight arrow didn’t voice concerns over getting caught for the first time. She forgot her family and hiked one leg to my hips, allowing me more access to her cunt.
I didn’t let myself think. Unzipping my pants, I pulled out my cock and settled against her folds. I ground my hard length against her, tightening the hold on her hair.
The blood in my veins heated as we neared the point of no return. Once I crossed this line—fully aware of Mia’s truth—there’d be no more pretenses about the man I had become.
I rationalized my actions. We already pushed the envelope last night on a technicality. Was penetration that much worse?
My painfully stiff cock sure didn’t think so and was ready to indulge. It had been months since I was inside her, and I needed to feel her, even if it were just this once. The mist was too thick, glazing my eyes with lust, consuming my soul with Mia’s smell, and coating my fingers with her moisture.
I nudged my leg between her thighs to spread her wider. I rubbed my head against her clit, making Mia whimper and claw my shoulders. There was no more patience left in my body. If I waited any longer, I might combust.
“I need to feel you… from the inside.”
Mia panted. “I thought sex was off the table—”
“Not all the way,” I cut her off. I had no idea what difference it made whether I shoved my cock inside or pressed my tip against the warm forbidden fruit I had denied myself. “Just the tip. I need to remember what you feel like.”
With a hand gripping her hair, I guided my cock to her opening with the other. I pressed my tip against her, carefully pushing only the head inside.
“Fuck,” I growled a little too loud. My legs shook from the monumental effort it took not to slam inside her tight hole. A familiar heat emanated from her, warming the tip of my cock. She felt better than I remembered. “I forgot how good you feel.”
“Wha—what do I feel like?” she rasped out.
I could have laughed at her question if I didn’t think it’d break my concentration.
The girl wondered what she felt like. For one, I felt lightheaded from the intoxicating smell of her arousal. Mia’s tight grip was velvety and silky. It made me feel raw and turned me into a caveman. I might as well hit her over the head and drag her to my lair to have my way with her.
“You feel like certain death if I don’t shove my dick all the way in,” I whispered.
Mia tensed, most likely to voice a protest.
