24 | Tease
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Maybe Nolan is right.
That's the thought that follows me throughout Christmas Day.
It lingers, like a buzzing fly, slithering its way into everything. When I wake up and have a moment of silence before Riley stirs beside me, I see his face, downstairs, so close to mine on that couch.
When my mom comes over and we all gather to open presents I can barely even look at him.
It really hurt, hearing him not consider Riley at all.
Does he not care? Can he really put her on the back burner with all of this?
She specifically told us not to do anything.
I've never broken her trust like this before.
It's overwhelming, having my chest tighten just being in the same room, knowing the things he whispered in my ear yesterday.You are a fucking tease, pretty girl. It makes every part of me ripple with need, pushes this twisted desire to the forefront of my mind.
I want him in the same way he described needing me. His words continue to echo, like a haunting, broken record.I wanted that, more than anything.
It's that fact that makes me weak, puts me somewhere close to his fucked-up mindset.
If I was selfish, if I put my needs before anyone else, I probably would've kissed him yesterday.
I would've let his hand slide higher up my thigh, let his tongue fuck my throat until every part of my restraint had melted away.
If you feel this like I do it won't go away, Ava.
I keep contemplating the words through lunch, thankfully sitting opposite Riley so I can be distracted by her laughing instead of the man perched down the other end of the table.
But every time I blink away I'm caught in that sea of hazel, searching my soul.
There's something else in his eyes today, not an apology, but something softer.
He knows he shouldn't have been reckless with what he said about Riley. That's the easiest way to throw a brick wall between me and him. But it doesn't mean he doesn't think that.
After lunch we end up in the kitchen, just the three of us. Me, Riley and Nolan. The air is thick, pumping with things unsaid and the irony of Riley physically acting as a block between the two of us. I'm keeping my eyes down, away from the man trying to eat me alive with this gaze.
"Mom made cupcakes," Riley hums, placing a box down on the kitchen island, "Strawberry something, I don't know. They're good as shit though."
I nod, already planning any excuse to get out of this uncomfortable situation. Before I can, though, Riley realises she left her phone in the other room, muttering to herself as she quickly slips out the door.
The second she leaves I lock eyes with Nolan, unable to avoid him.
"Are you still mad at me?" He asks, lowering his voice. Not enough.
"Be quiet," I hiss, eyes searching the empty but open doorway. Flush creeps up my neck, everything associated with our situation rushing back.
"Are you?" He repeats, eyes completely glued to my face.
I hesitate, caught off guard. Riley leaves for half a second and he's already blabbering like this is something we can justtalk about. I shake my head gently, unsure of how to answer his question. I don't know what I feel right now.
"If I was, would you even apologise?" I whisper, challenging him with my gaze.
He pauses a moment, "Probably."
"But you wouldn't mean it?"
"Probably," He repeats, lips curved into more of a smile now. I hate that it makes my stomach flip.
I roll my eyes, pressing my hands down harder into the island to steady the rush of thoughts in my head. His jaw is tightened in that way that makes it seem like he's holding back, his face brushed with charged desire. My self control is on a slippery slope.
"Listen, I know I was blunt but I wasn't necessarily wrong," He murmurs, voice still dancing on the edge of too loud, "You should be able to do what you want."
Most of me wants to scream that it's more complicated than that, that choosing this would mean losing my best friend. But I know he's right to some degree. I should be able to choose something for myself. It would help if that wasn't the one person off limits.
Though he doesn't feel very off limits now, burning a hole through me with his gaze, trailing eyes over my lips like if he doesn't kiss me soon he'll combust. Like me still not giving in to what I want, what I admitted to him, is torture.
"I'm not mad," I manage to say, "This is all just a fucking mess."
He chuckles, smiling harder, "I like messy."
Of course he does.
I sigh, struggling to keep my voice quiet, "Is this just a big game to you?"
"Mhm," He insists, tone brimming with exaggeration, "A big, fun, messy game."
I catch the spike of playfulness in his voice, the smirk now cutting through his face. His eyes flash darker, shooting into mine with a new rush of intensity. His arm reaches across the island, grabbing a cupcake from the open box. The air stills, suffocatingly tight.
What the hell is he doing?
I watch, almost dumbfounded, trying to piece together his teasing. He gives me one more heated look before two fingers, his pointer and middle, swipe right through the frosting. Pink peaks gather on his skin, coating them as he brings his hand back up.
My gaze is fixed on the movement, any words so far from my mind. Then he plunges the fingers into his mouth, pushing them down and sucking off the frosting. I watch the way his lips grip his skin, my stomach twisting immediately. Jesus fucking Christ.
He doesn't stop either, licking his fingers clean in a stupidly sexy way that makes my mind fog up. I can only see him, hear the tiny grunt as he finishes sucking his fingers. His eyes are latched on mine, flashing at me and implying exactly what I'm thinking.
"Delicious," He hums, voice low and rumbling through me.
All of a sudden Riley scoffs, appearing at the doorway, "Gross, can you not eat like a normal person?"
I'm distracted from my weird haze, face darting towards her. I can feel my cheeks blooming pink, every part of me suddenly vulnerable. That was so fucking wrong and he knows it. She could've come in at any time.
But I liked it. A fire lit up in my stomach, heat is burning between my legs, my brain is far away, imagining it was me all over his fingers, not frosting. I hated it, but I liked it.
Nolan ignores Riley's comment, "These are really good, so mom's baking properly again?"
"You're supposed to know that."
Her voice is cold. She doesn't even turn to look at him.
"You're mad at me?" He groans, not sounding particularly sorry.
"Yes!" Riley whisper-squeals, "Your drinking stunt yesterday? What the fuck was that?"
He frowns, waving a dismissive hand, "I didn't do anything but crash on the sofa. You're being dramatic."
She flashes him a stone-hard look but there's something else behind her pupils, a thread of pain. It's about what it represents, that it's closer to the past than their progress. His tone isn't helping either, no attempt to say anything but defend himself. He's such a dick sometimes.
"I'm not going to yell at you because it's Christmas Day," Riley murmurs, taking a long, deep breath, "But if you pull some shit like that again-"
"I won't," Nolan interrupts. He stretches a little, like he's bored. I can see Riley's face twitch, holding back from being genuinely irritated.
It actually surprises me, too. He hasn't acted like this for a while, not outright anyway. The cold comments, hardened tone. He definitely hasn't been this way with me. It's a stark contrast to the man making stomach-turning confessions in the middle of the night.
I wonder what's set this off, whether it has anything to do with me. Us.
Riley groans, spinning round to the few piles of dishes that still haven't been washed up. Without a second thought she starts running the warm water, muttering something about being the only one who helps her parents with chores.
And, without missing a beat, Nolan's fixated on me again. It's like the second any supervision is lost he springs back to gazing over my skin. My breath stalls in my throat, caught in between every almost-curl of his brown hair.
He smirks again, just for me, and I see his previous action in my head. Sucking his fingers. He did it to make me squirm, just like I did sending that photo. It worked, really fucking worked, because the pool between my thighs is more intense than ever.
He doesn't care that his sister is in the room, that what we're doing is wrong. I can tell by every inch of his face that now he knows I want him, he won't stop until I give in to everything.
"You're lucky mom and dad didn't find out," Riley rambles, still turned away from us both. We're not listening at all, "They'd probably be mad at me for letting you crash, actually..."
"Mhm," Nolan, murmurs. His attention is all on me.
I get an idea. To play his dumb game.
I hate that he can just lick his stupid lips and lock eyes with me to make my knees weak. I hate that my thighs are squeezing closer together instinctively. I hate that he makes me stop caring about what's important. Fuck him. He deserves a taste of his own medicine.
"...and maybe she'd be fine with it, if it was arranged, you know? Or maybe she'd still lose her shit, I don't know..." Riley's voice echoes, still talking about something.
My hand reaches for the cupcake box, slowly. I can feel Nolan's gaze on my hand, it's practically burning into my skin. I'm more nervous than I'd like to admit but I try and channel the drunk Ava who sent that photo. I try and channel the girl who can take photos in outfits with curled hair.
There's a small moment of recognition, awe even, from him. His eyes go down to the cupcake in front of me, to my face. His eyebrows raise, only slightly. A question? No, a challenge.
He doesn't think I'll do it.
"...but you still have to invite them over to your apartment, maybe in the new year would be best? What do you think?"
"Mhm," Nolan says again, replying only to keep her speaking.
The running water drowns out, Riley is a muffle, the world spins.
My finger dips down into the frosting, gathering it in the same way Nolan did earlier. I drag it out longer, though, forcing him to watch every second. When I bring it up to my face his eyes are darker, alight with a fire. Disbelief and lust tangles through his face.
"You wouldn't," he mouths, brows furrowed.
And it's that, him not believing that I'd do something as recklessly stupid as him, that pushes me over the edge.
I stick my tongue out more than I need to before pushing the finger down, back into my throat.
I rest it there for a second, just before reaching my gag reflex, then clasp my lips around it properly.
He watches every second, the slow movement of it dragging out of my mouth.
The sweet, sugary taste floods my mouth like a reward.
My finger is wet, shiny and completely clean when it's released with a pop, only muffled by Riley's rambling.
I swipe a rouge piece of frosting from the side of my mouth too, licking the end of my finger again, before mouthing, "Oops."
I've never seen Nolan like this. Like I've fucking broken him. His eyes are transfixed, still lingering on my lips with absolutely no shame. His jaw is clenched, body still, hair almost wild. His knuckle resting on the surface has gone white, pressed down so hard it looks like it hurts.
I'm sure if I could see past his waist he'd have anotherobvious problem too. One to match my own wetness, somehow worse through pulling my own stunt.
I feel on fire. Alive.
I feel like I've let go, just for a minute, done something reckless, for myself. Watching Nolan break down has made all my senses heighten, my heart is pounding against my ribcage. I want him closer, across this island.
"...and you still haven't fixed your stupid car... are you even listening?" Riley's voice fades back into reality just as she spins around, staring at her brother.
He snaps his eyes away from me quickly, clearing his throat immediately. His eyes are a little blown, brain clearly far from anything else other than what just happened.
"Yeah, yeah," He says, hiding an obvious rough breath, "I'm listening."
She frowns, scanning him once over. She can tell he's being weird. My mind pauses for a second, realising how insane what I just did was. Riley was standing in the fucking room. Am I crazy?
She doesn't say anything else, though, muttering something under her breath before returning to her washing up. The silence is worse, the long, open space that gives me space to reflect. Gives me time to think about what I just did.
"I'm going to...see my mom," I push out suddenly, hoping the words didn't sound as disjointed out loud as they did in my head.
Riley flashes a happy smile, Nolan's eyes flick back to mine immediately. I ignore him, snaking my way out the door and walking into the quiet hallway. My chest rises, releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding.
Why does it feel so good to be bad? Why do I say one thing, then act another way completely? I keep stopping myself from kissing him, for Riley, but sending sexy photos is perfectly fine? Suggestively licking frosting off my finger is okay?
My brain swirls, angry at myself, at everything.
I need to decide what I want.
But before I can think anything else two hands fly down beside either side of my face, a body suddenly pinning me back against the wall. It happens so quickly, the lack of space, the face hovering beside mine, my skin prickling with goosebumps.
"What are you doing to me?" Nolan murmurs, a real, breathy whisper.
I blink at him. His dark hair across his forehead, eyes wandering with no restraint. That wild look on his face isn't gone, if anything it's got hungrier. That woody scent encompasses me, tinged with lingering alcohol from yesterday. The air is warmer, his lips are deliciously close.
"Nolan..." I breathe, because I don't know what else to say. I have no defence, I know what I did. He teased so I teased back.
He's so still, his breath the only gentle noise between us.
"Were you trying to get me hard in the fucking kitchen?" He almost growls, "Is that what you wanted?"
Yes.
I don't move, don't speak.
"Just because I made you wet, pretty girl? That scared you? When you saw my fingers, did you imagine I was-"
"Stop," I hiss, quiet but enough to interrupt him, "You started this."
He smirks, somehow leaning even closer, "Maybe. But you're enjoying it."
I can't argue because all I want is for him to call me pretty girl again.
"You won't let me kiss you, touch you," He continues, eyes focused on my lips, "You're only punishingyourself, you know that?"
I am. It feels like torture. Being conscious that anyone in this house could walk in on us right now is like a cruel punishment, stopping me from giving in completely.
Nolan moves one hand from beside my head without warning, bringing it up closer to my face. At first I think he's going to touch my cheek but he doesn't, aware that I still haven't let him do that yet. Instead he pushes out those two fingers.
"Are you going to show me exactly what you did in the kitchen, hm?" He murmurs, voice flooding with that calmly commanding tone that has an overarching grip over me.
My pupils latch onto the fingers beside my face. I trace the faint veins at his wrist, the control of his arm. Something about being caught in his grip, face so close, pussy aching with need, makes my brain fog over. It's so bad in a way that consumes me.
Like some else has possessed me, my head lifts gently off the wall, mouth meeting the tips of Nolan's fingers. My tongue swirls for a second, light, gentle. His eyes watch like he's devouring me whole. Then his face flicks darker, pushing his hand forwards.
His fingers slide down my throat, every part of me relaxing.
My thighs clench tighter, mouth focused on taking him down slowly.
It's gentle, but he goes further than I did, reaching the back of my throat.
He smiles a little before breaching a boundary.
My reflex clenches, chokes, and I gag for a second.
He holds it momentarily, every move calculated.
Then he pulls his fingers out, every part of his skin glistening wet. I watch, mesmerised by the entire thing. I don't even realise I slightly chase him with my tongue.
Nolan chuckles, brushing his thumb over my wet lower lip. The contact makes my chest bloom with heat, every part of me aching.
"You look so pretty like that, taking my fingers down your throat, " He remarks in a low voice, "You drive me fucking crazy, Ava."
"You said that yesterday," I whisper.
"Nothing's changed since yesterday."
The air crackles. I want to stay here, under him, forever. But even drunk on desire I know this is a ticking clock. We have about thirty more seconds before someone inevitably walks out here, probably his sister. I suck in a breath, searching for my long gone composure.
"Why are you doing this?" I ask, "It should be hard for you... it's difficult for me."
He shakes his head almost immediately, "It's not as difficult as you think, pretty girl. You just proved that with your mouth, with that photo."
"But... I still can't kiss you," I gulp, the truth falling out.
A kiss feels like more. It feels like submission, admittance, a full-on dive into the deep-end. I've had kisses that mean nothing at all, but now, when I've made it into such a big deal with him, it feels like everything.
"I'll kiss you when you want me to," He says, thumb still brushing over my lip, "When you really want me to. You're still holding back on your desires, when you let them go, fully, I'll be right here to catch you."
I've never wanted anyone to catch me more.
And I have a feeling it won't be long until I fall.
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