Page 139 of Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

“Fucking hell, Vee, you’re killing me.” Xav clenches his teeth, and I gaze downward, my breath hitching at the tent protruding from his pants.

He’s straining against the fabric, and I mean straining. The thought of little old me doing this to him is an incomparable turn on. “Please say I can touch you,” he growls, his breath flush with my cheek. “If you don’t, I might die, I’m serious.”

And I know he doesn’t mean with his knee.

“Please.” I’m the one begging now.

His fingers immediately snake down my stomach as I drop my head back against the wall, preparing myself for—

“Oh, God.” I can’t keep quie

t when he begins rubbing me through my shorts. Thanks to my commando situation, I feel everything. It takes Xavier little to no time to catch on, and I squirm when he slows down his strong circles.

“Shit, are you not wearing…”

Flustered, I shake my head.

His eyes pop open.

“Fuck this shit.”

Xav yanks my shorts down to my ankles in one move, and I gasp. His hot mouth trails down my legs, kissing my thighs at a torturous pace.

Oh my… I’m naked.

Well, almost naked.

And somehow, I don’t even care?

“Xavier,” I whimper, overly aware of how exposed I am, and Xav stops to stare at the sweet spot between my legs, chewing on his bottom lip. Looks like waxing yesterday was a good move. His mouth is back on mine in an instant, his fingers dropping to my center and rotating hard and fast against my clit.

If I’d known how talented Xavier Emery was with his fingers, I’d have told him who I was eons ago. His hand dips to my slit, and he pulls away an inch, staring me dead in the eyes to watch my expression as he slides a finger inside me.

My mouth falls open, my insides melting at the sustained eye contact. I’m guessing my face doesn’t disappoint because he smashes his lips back to mine with a groan, picking up the tempo as he adds his middle finger into the mix and starts finger-fucking me to another realm.

His thumb retreats to my clit at the same time, twirling it relentlessly and implanting a few concerns into my brain. Serious question: Can the human body sustain this much pleasure?

“So fucking wet.” He grunts inside my mouth, and I nearly fall apart. So, that’s what having intercourse with a guy who’s not a selfish scumbag feels like?

Lust pulsing through my veins, I drop my hand to his sweats and curve my fist around his length before I can second-guess myself. He sucks in a breath, his jaw clenching as he watches me palm him, squeeze him, jerk him off clumsily over his clothes.

I’m not courageous enough to sneak a hand inside his briefs and cross the line, but judging by the ecstasy fogging up his gaze, over-the-clothes action will do just fine.

Neither of us stop.

Or slow down.

The sight of Xav and me torturing each other, his fingers speeding in and out of me, his thumb stroking every single nerve in my clit, and my frankly awkward hand job, quickly become too much for me. Pressure explodes in my stomach, and my eyes roll back on their own.

Oh. My. God.

“Xav, I think I’m…”

His expression morphs with pleasure.

“Fuck, Vee. S-Stop,” he grits out, his teeth chattering. “I can’t come in my sweats.”

I withdraw my hand without blinking, expecting him to remove his fingers as well, but he doesn’t, his lips plastering hot kisses all over my neck as he doubles his efforts.