She’s quiet, though I can feel her body trembling. And I don’t think it’s from the cold windows either.
I kiss her in the same spot again, my fingers tangling in her hair. She lifts her other hand, both of them now braced on the glass, and I subtly nudge her body with mine, until she’s fully pressed against it.
And me.
She inhales sharply.
“Too cold?” I ask her, the words murmured on her skin.
“Yes,” she whispers. “But you’re warm.”
Resting one hand on her waist, I touch her cheek with the other, angling her head so she has no choice but to look up at me. “Don’t push me away, Birdy.”
I see the moment she gives in, how it flickers in her gaze, and she removes her hands from the window, turning so she’s fully facing me. “Crew…”
I kiss her before she can protest, or tell me to stop. And she doesn’t say anything after that. She gives in completely, her hands coming up to wind around my neck, her entire body leaning into me. Those plump tits press into my chest, and I race my hand up her side, my thumb drifting across her breast. She parts her lips to gasp, allowing my tongue entry, and a low groan leaves me as I deepen the kiss.
“What if someone sees us?” she whispers against my mouth.
I nip at her lower lip, making her whimper. “No one can see us. I promise.”
Opening my eyes, I stare out the windows, but there’s no one there. The snow is starting to come down harder, the light dimming in the cavernous room, thanks to the darkening sky, and I cup her cheek, tilting her head back, so I can devour her.
Our kisses soon turn into tongues and teeth and nibbling lips and panting breaths. Her hands slip beneath my uniform jacket, sliding down my back, and I press my hips against hers, letting her feel what she’s doing to me.
Wren breaks the kiss first, and I open my eyes to find her staring at me, her chest rising and falling against mine, her breaths quick. “We probably shouldn’t do this.”
“Why not?” I kiss her neck, licking a path to her ear with my tongue. She tilts her head, her eyes falling shut, her expression tortured. “I know you like it, Birdy.”
“Kissing leads to…other things. Things I’m not ready for.”
“You so sure about that?”
She swallows hard when I nibble her jaw. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me when to stop then.” Ah, I make it sound so easy, but I want this girl to forget herself and get carried away.
With me.
Because she needs it. Because she wants it.
Just like I want her.
TWENTY-FOUR
WREN
I’m plastered against the cold glass, a warm Crew pressing against me, his hard—yes, he’s actually hard—body so close to mine, I don’t think you could slip a piece of paper between us. His words are on repeat in my brain.
Tell me when to stop then.
He makes it sound so simple, when it’s not. I’m finally starting to understand why girls give in so easily to this— to sex. It feels so good, his mouth. His hungry kisses. His tongue. How it tangles with mine. His hands on my body. His rapidly beating heart and accelerated breathing, and those low humming noises he makes when he kisses me. As if I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.
It's heady stuff. I can feel that newly familiar pulsing between my thighs. The wetness growing there. The dull ache forming, and every bit of it, he’s responsible for.
I think he’s the only one who can ease the ache.
He kisses me until I can’t think. Tugs my white shirt out of my skirt, his fingers slipping beneath the crisp, wrinkled cotton to rest against my bare waist before they streak across my stomach.
I can’t breathe. Can only clutch his shoulders helplessly, my tongue dancing against his while he slowly but surely undoes me with his fingers. They slide up, skimming the bottom of my bra, and I wish with everything I had that I owned something frilly and pretty. Something that would make his eyes bug out of his head when he first saw it.
But I don’t. The nude-colored bra I’m wearing is plain and simple. No ribbon.
No lace.
“You want me to stop, Birdy?” He pants the words into my skin, my neck. His lips are hot, and so is his tongue, and when he licks me at the spot where my pulse throbs, I shake my head.
No. I don’t want him to stop. Not ever.
His hands land on my waist and he flips me around so my front is pressed into the window. His erection nudges against my butt, and I stare out at the falling snow, my lips parted, my mind racing with thoughts of seeing him naked. He feels huge.