Page 81 of Falling Offsides

Never.

But—

My jaw locks as a different thought crosses my mind.

What if she only let me touch her because she was hurting?

What if it wasn’t me she wanted—just comfort?

What if tomorrow she smiles like tonight never happened, or worse tells me it was a mistake?

The possibility hollows me out. Because there’s no going back from this. From tonight. From touching her. From kissing her. Watching her unravel for me. Because of me.

Fuck.

I’m raw… starving. On the precipice of lunacy as I focus on the blob of lip gloss slowly running down my finger. Melting into my skin, soaking into it the way her cum did.

I swallow hard. Gripping my phone tighter. Resisting the urge to do now what I didn’t do then.

Taste.

At least I try to. I really do. And I fail.

Lifting my hand to my nose, I breathe in deep. Taking in every goddamn note. Cataloguing it like it’s the most precious artifact and memorizing every sweet, fruity note with the perfect hint of pleasure and need.

Sex. And her.

I can’t go back. Not after this. Not after tonight.

Courtney is mine.

Whether she truly realizes it or not.

With one long inhale I pull her scent all the way into my lungs.

My God, it’s enough to wreck me—my cock is throbbing, aching like never before. So damn hard it’s got a pulse of its own, robbing me of any logic I have left as I lick the gloss off my hand.

Tastes just like Courtney. Sweet and salty, bright and deep. I see every fucking color of her in that one taste.

But it’s not enough.

Not to sate that endless keening in my bones. Not to get the curiosity out of my system. Not to ease the craving in my chest and my blood.

It’s not enough.

Not even close.

And fuck it hurts. So bad. So deep. So viscerally.

I don’t care how deranged it makes me, I need more. More than just the sight of Courtney in my hoodie. More than just the scent of her blazing in my lungs…

This girl is making me crazy, and I can’t get enough of it as I push to my feet and rest my phone on the bedside table, still zoomed into her sleeping form.

The hammering of my pulse screams through me as she shifts, legs parting… my hoodie rides up to her hips, and all I have is the shadow of her perfect cunt.

Taunting me.

Teasing me.