Page 27 of Secrets That Bind Us

I find myself pressed against yet another wall in an empty classroom, the taste of him– the salty, spicy, masculine scent of his in my nose.

I groan in delight, in hunger for more of him.

Lips locking, nipping, tongues clashing, nipples hard and pressed against him, his erection behind his jeans pressing perfectly against my clit as he grinds.

How is it possible to love someone so much it hurts and feel so fucking good from the inside out?

Like my own heart is walking around outside of my body in human form?

I want more. Need more. And when I cry out, he swallows every moan, every sigh.

He keeps rubbing. One hand flies down between us, and I’m so thankful I haven’t given up my dresses like I’ve wanted to, because when he finds the hem of my panties, he pushes them to the side.

Long, thick fingers plunge into me roughly, and both of us are groaning.

Me to the new sensation of being filled and stretched, and him to finding how wet I am for him.

But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t take his lips from mine.

He just keeps going– deeper, harder, like he knows exactly what I need from him.

His thumb is on my clit, and I chase his fingers, chase the high he gives me– because for all that it’s worth– being with Dean is more highs than lows.

“There’s my girl. Come for me, baby.” He does something inside me, and even though it hurts, even though we’re in an empty classroom in school– he touches that spot, and with his soft encouragement, ripples of ecstasy scatter through me– and I fucking break for him.

I always break for him.

When I’m done shuddering and he’s done kissing me, he pulls his fingers out, putting my panties back with his thumb. He sets me down gently on wobbly legs. I gasp, eyes wide, when I see the bright streaks of my virginal blood on his fingers, and embarrassment floods me.

But Dean grins wickedly when he sees it.

Inspecting his fingers, he cocks a dark brow at me, and I watch in utter amazement when he dips them into his mouth– savoring the remnants of my innocence over his tongue like a fucking vampire, grinning like a madman– my blood in his teeth and on his thoroughly kissed puffy lips.

Lips that not only just kissed me to death but encouraged me to my damnation.

I should be disgusted. He’s vile. Demented.

But all I want… is more.

Dean is an addiction I can’t shake.

I don’t want to.

I need to.

I can’t.

God, help me.

“Know what this means, Verity?”

I blink, chest still heaving.

“You’re mine. In every way. There’s no shaking me.

When you’re in New York, sitting in your little studio apartment writing…

when you’re thinking of sexy little scenes to put in your books, you’ll always think of me.

All your thoughts will always come back to me.

I’ll be your ghost. I’ll always haunt you.

” He laughs darkly, sending chills down my spine– but God, I want more.

I can play his game. I push away from him, grab my backpack, and from over my shoulder I look back at him, quirking my brow up. Just like when I threw myself at him, I don’t think about the next few words that fly out of my mouth.

“Then give me something to write about.”

What have I done?

For the next few weeks, it doesn’t matter where we are– the library, behind the school, under the bleachers, an empty classroom– if he finds me, he drives me to the brink of insanity with his lips, his tongue, or his fingers.

Never asking for more, but always pushing me a little farther, finding ways to make me come for him throughout the day.

But if he wants to drive me wild, I can do it, too.

I catch him following me into the empty library, stalking me like a predator stalks his prey, but this time, he’s mine.

It’s Friday, a home game tonight. I know he doesn’t need to be on the field for another two hours.

He knows where I’m going, and I know exactly where I want him to catch me.

It’s been fun, this cat and mouse game, but now I’m hungry.

For adventure, for the experience Dean is offering, for Dean in general.

When he turns to the left, I go right. His soft footsteps thud behind me, and my heart picks up its pace. I know the repercussions if we get caught. I hide in the groove between bookshelves, excited, because in my mind, he’s not just Dean. He’s the Dragon shifter in my book.

He’ll be every main male character I will ever write.

The good, the bad, the ugly, and everything in-between.

We will both die one day, and live on together, trapped between pages, in black and white. I will make him immortal.

I’m not surprised when my tormentor finds me– dark, ripped, bootcut jeans tucked loosely into his tan Timberland boots.

My eyes travel to his belt and I reach out, slowly unfastening it, hauling him closer.

By the time I have him unbuckled and his zipper down, he raises his shirt just a smidge.

The dark hair on his happy trail that descends into his boxers has me curious.

“Baby…” he whispers, and sparks shoot everywhere, “what are you doing?”

Before I can lose my courage, I reach into boxer briefs and tug him out.

Thick, hot, and heavy in my hand. Is my mouth supposed to be watering?

He inhales sharply, and when I look up, his head is tilted to the side.

His usual piercing blue eyes are dark, lids heavy with lashes that cast shadows along the fading freckles on his face.

With the silver chain hanging from his neck over his black T-shirt, and black diamond studs in his ears, he looks like a king missing his crown.

I lick my lips and swirl my tongue over his crown, which earns me a soft hiss, and his hand comes down to cup the underside of my jaw.

He smells and tastes clean– like mint and lemon, and Irish Spring, and I want to ask why he tastes so fresh after a long day at school, but I’m otherwise preoccupied.

“Wider, baby. Stick out your tongue a little more. Mmhmm.”

I wish I knew what was running through his mind.

“Do you know how much I’ve dreamed of this? You, on your knees for me, taking my dick deep in your mouth – fuck, that’s perfect. A dream, baby. You’re a goddamn dream. More. No, keep your hand there. Jerk me off. Fuck, Verity. This is a dream come true, I’m not gonna last… and I don’t want to.”

It’s all whispered words of praise and directions that have me wanton, curious to taste more of him, to suck him deeper, and please him the way he does me. So when he shoves a little deeper, I pretend it’s like when I’m brushing my teeth and hold my gag, which makes him groan.

“Stroke me a little harder, baby. I’m almost there.”

My jaw hurts, but I lift my mouth a little, wet my hand with my spit, and go back to stroking him.

I take him as deep as I can, hollowing my cheeks and sucking him greedily, like I need his cum in order to live.

I can feel his thighs shaking. He breathes for me not to stop, doing his best not to thrust forward, but he clamps his palms at my temple and holds in his breath.

I look up at him, keeping eye contact and then-

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Is the only warning I get.

He shoves forward harshly, baring his teeth, pistoning his hips.

My lips are slick and stretched to their capacity when I taste his salty, warm, thick cum as it coats the inside of my mouth.

I drink it down– licking the remnants of his essence as he softens– like a kitten lapping up cream.

Dean leans over me, placing his forehead on the wall behind me, jerking with each swirl of my tongue.

“Holy shit. Verity. Fuck. I love you.” He pulls away, tucking himself back in, and helps me up. When he goes to kiss me I pull away, but he holds me tighter and kisses me anyway. “You’re fucking incredible.”

“Thank you,” I rasp.

“Was that… your first time?”

I nod, wishing I had some water.

He kisses my temple and chuckles. “I wish I didn’t have to play tonight. I need a nap. I think you sucked my soul out. Jesus.” He takes my hand, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough in the end?”

“No, I liked it. You taste… good.”

He grins wickedly but then kisses me again and again– until I’m a hot, needy mess– and finally tips his forehead to mine, rubbing his thumb along my jaw. “Let me come over tonight?”

“Meet me in the barn. I’ll sneak out.” I whisper.

Getting a loft in a barn ready to lose the rest of your virginity is weird…

and exciting. I asked Zoey to stop by the drugstore for condoms, just in case I don’t chicken out.

Afterwards, I went home and cleaned and swept the loft, brought out extra blankets and pillows, and a few candles.

Then, I showered, shaved, and plucked every stray hair I could find.

I wasn’t going to be Dean’s first, and I’m not as thin or perfect as Tiffany Myers, so I want to be beautiful in my own way.

I also can’t think about all the girls he has been with because then my heart kinda cracks a bit.

Fuck, what am I doing?

I sit on the edge of my bed in a towel, looking at the easy-access sundress I found at the local thrift shop I hung outside of my closet door, and pull my knees up to my chest and stare at the wall.

I can’t think about it.

I want him to be my first. I want to experience this life with him.

Even if it’s momentarily. I want everything Dean has to offer because I want to give him all that and more.

I want to wear his nana’s ring, get married in the church, have his children– Savannah and Noah– but I also want out of Adelaide.

I can do this.

Get the experience I crave and leave.

I have to leave.

Right?