Page 65 of Withered

The electric sparks that were missing since yesterday are back, and the air around us is thick with them. The look in Jake’s eyes is so strong that I feel something in the pit of my stomach, making me squeeze my legs tight.What is happening to me?

“Want me to show you, Rose?” He asks, and his voice is a little hoarse.

My breathing quickens, and I clear my throat. “Show me what?”

“Either way,”he replies in a slow, seductive tone.

I chant a series ofno’sin my brain, but when Jake stands up, a sign of victory in his eyes, it’s clear my head betrayed me by nodding yes. Nothing good could happen to me, especially when I’m with Jake. The signs are visible; my brain is sending the wrong orders.

I was so busy thinking that I didn’t notice Jake sitting next to me, never once breaking eye contact. He grabs my book and places it on the table. My mind is still chantingnountil he touches my cheek, and all the thoughts running inside me are cut off when he strokes it. He moves in closer, and the familiar woodsy smell envelopes me. I inhale his scent, and a small smile forms on his lips before it vanishes before I can see it. He always does that.

My palms are sweating, and my hands are trembling. I resist showing any signs of nervousness to him. Just as I lower my gaze to stare at his lips, his eyes shift between mine, and he grunts and puts his lips over mine.

Those electric sparks can be felt all around the place. Starting with my lips and moving south, hardening my nipples, creating a strange knot in my stomach, and pausing at the opening between my thighs. I’ve never experienced anything like this before, and I doubt I ever will.

With his right hand on my cheek, he uses the other hand to bring our bodies closer, so I’m crushed against his chest, no longer in control of myself. It’s always a good idea to dive right in and follow the lead with us.

Jake’s kiss begins lightly, like a peck, but soon he begins to nibble on my bottom lip and gently bite it. I part my lips willingly, and he slides his tongue, not leaving any second. He groans and moans in a pleasing mixture as our tongues compete for dominance. If only I could keep doing this forever. He has to be the best kisser.

He lowers his hand from my cheek to the hem of my top, sliding it inside, slowly moving his way up, and stopping near my bra. Grunting against my lips, he takes hold of my hem, lifts the top, and throws it. He backs up a little and lays me down on the couch, kissing my jaw and collarbone. A series of moans threaten to escape, but I bite my lip.

Suddenly, everything stops; there is no touching, nothing.

I open my eyes and see Jake looking down at me with those hooded eyes, his forest green. He’s gorgeous.

“What happened?” I ask him breathlessly.

“You are so fucking hot,” he replies, and my cheeks burn. Only Jake has called me that, and it still feels new to me.

As his hand rests on my hips, near my shorts, my pulse quickens dangerously. “What are you doing?”

He silences me with another kiss, following my jaw and collarbone. He bites my neck, blows a short breath on it, and kisses it again. I am experienced enough to know that it will leave a mark. He unbuttons my denim shorts and slides them down my legs. My shorts are tossed somewhere.

With his hand on my thigh, he slowly makes his way between my legs. He touches me over my underwear, his fingers teasing my clit, making me whimper and become breathless.

He chuckles at my reaction. Even though he’s just rubbing me, it feels incredible. He moves the fabric of my underwear aside and places his finger on my clit. The pleasure grows stronger, and he sucks in a deep breath. I’m relieved that I shaved a few days ago.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he says. One thing I know about him is that he curses a lot. But his words have their way with me.

My head spins as he moves his fingers in a circular motion. I let go of my lip and let the moans flow freely. He teases me with his thumb, playing with the same bud. I feel an unfamiliar tight knot building inside me, and my back arches off the couch.

“Let go, Rose,” he whispers in my ear.

And I do. With his name on my lips, I let go. I lean back on the couch, allowing my breathing to return to normal as I feel a light peck on my lips.

I open my eyes after a few seconds to find a pool of something white between my legs. I notice a towel in my vision and follow it to find Jake holding it for me.

“You might want to clean it up,” he says and then leaves.

I clean myself and put on my clothes. Jake emerges from the kitchen and hands me a glass of water. My cheeks burn in embarrassment, but I take it.

“How do you feel?” He asks mid-sip.

I almost choke. “I feel good; it’s like my stress flew away,” I say in a low voice, my cheeks heating up more.

An awkward silence follows, and I’m so mortified right now that I showed my vulnerability to him. I want to say so many things, ask him so much, and want to know about things, but I cannot speak. It’s like the words are on the tip of my tongue, ready to spill, but I’m biting down to keep them in.

My phone rings, cutting the silence in the air. It’s Mom. I pick up, “Hey Mom, where are you?”

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