Page 37 of Seven Lost Summers
“Is it okay if I touch you, Theo?” she asks.
Fuck.
If she said that to me, I’d already be stripped to nothing, cock in her hand, begging for more. Her mouth, her body, anything she’d give me. I’d take it all, ruin myself for it.
But with Theo, she slows it down. She’s watching every breath he takes, every twitch in his jaw, making sure he doesn’t disappear into himself before she ever gets the chance to touch him.
He nods, just once, letting her know it’s okay.
She leans in and presses a slow, lingering kiss to his chest.
I watch his eyes flutter shut. It’s not panic. Not the ghosts creeping in. He’s feeling this. His breathing changes, deeper now, heavier, his body pulling toward her without even thinking.
When his eyes open again, there’s nothing soft left in them. No fear. No doubt. Just fucking hunger I’ve never seen.
I glance at the door. It’s still wide open. If Scarlet comes home early and Theo hears her, everything will fall apart. He’ll shut it down. His walls will go up. He’ll shut me out. It’ll all turn to shit.
I move. Quick and quiet. Cross the room and close the door and twist the lock. No one’s getting in. Not when we’ve come this far.
I step in behind Bianca. My cock’s rock hard, straining against the zipper, and all I can think about is how fucking good it’s gonna feel buried inside her while he watches. While she moans for both of us. When she falls apart in our hands.
I slip my fingers under the hem of her shirt. Her skin is so warm it makes me hiss and fuck, I lose a second just touching her. My hand drags the fabric up her stomach, over her ribs.
She straightens, breath hitching, body arching into mine like she fucking needs this.
I pull the shirt over her head and toss it to the floor, not giving a shit where it lands. Her hair falls in messy strands around her shoulders, and she just stands there in that black bra, caught between me and Theo.
She’s stunning. Dangerous. Fucking lethal.
I want her writhing under me, under us, begging for cock, begging for more, saying our names until her voice is wrecked and her body’s shaking. I want to ruin her and worship her in the same goddamn breath.
I press my hand to her hip, grinding my hard cock against her ass, needing some kind of pressure, before I lose control entirely.
Because if she asks for it, I’ll give her every filthy, fucked-up piece of me.
Theo’s eyes are all over her, dragging across every inch of skin, fucking starving, drinking her in as if she’s the only thing that exists. His breathing shifts, chest rising hard.
I unclip her bra. The clasp pops, the straps slide down her shoulders, and then fall from her arms before the bra drops to the floor.
His eyes lock on her tits. His lips part, breath caught in his throat, eyes wide with something between awe and desperation.
A wave of jealousy tears through me. Theo’s getting the first fucking glimpse at what I’ve been aching to touch. What I’ve been fantasizing about, fist wrapped around my cock, too many fucking nights to count.
I lean in, reach around, and cup her tits in both hands, my palms molding to her soft, perfect skin. Fuck, she feels unreal. Warm, full, made for me. I kiss along her neck, dragging my mouth across the place her pulse pounds, and she melts, pressing back until her ass grinds against my cock. Every slow roll of her hips is a fucking tease, and she knows it. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
My thumbs brush over her nipples, every nerve in my body lights up from the sensation of her.
It takes everything I have not to shove her down onto the bed, rip the rest of her clothes off, and bury myself inside her.
But I hold back.
Grit my teeth.
Cling to some sort of control.
This isn’t about me. Not tonight.
This moment isn’t mine. It’s his. Theo fucking needs this. He needs to know what it feels like to let go without falling apart, to sink into something that doesn’t cut him open. He needs to feel what it’s like when sex isn’t a scar. It’s fucking electric. Mind-blowing. Something that sets him free instead of breaking him down.
