Avalon
This side of her had been surprising from the moment it appeared, a sharp contrast to her Texas-Sweetheart persona. A surprise… but a devastatingly good one.
All traces of softness vanished the moment she had me begging. And I was about to beg again — for her, for this, for whatever she was willing to give.
“Fuck me, Clarke.” My voice sounded breathy even to my own ears, thick with desperation. “Please fuck me.”
I kissed her temple. “Please.” I kissed just below her jaw, fingers threading through her blonde curls. “Please.”
Clarke snorted softly, her hands sliding up my hips before squeezing my ass. Tilting her head up, she met my eyes with a slow, taunting smile. “I think you can do better than that, baby.”
Her gaze dropped to my lips, her tongue sweeping across her own. She leaned in like she was going to kiss me — only to stop a breath away. “Try again.”
God, she was infuriating. Infuriating and impossibly hot.
“Hrmph.” I sat back on my heels, crossing my arms. “This isn’t very fun.”
One of Clarke’s brows arched higher than the other. She leaned back on her elbows, head cocked. “It’s up to you how fun this is, Avalon. Do what I say, and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”
“Oh yeah?” I leaned forward, placing my hands on either side of her chest. “And what is it you think I want?”
She shrugged, casual and devastating. “I don’t know. Another orgasm.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks as her eyes locked onto mine.
“You know it’s what you want. So why don’t you be a good girl—” Her hand shot up, fingers gripping my jaw with startling precision, forcing my attention solely on her. “—and fucking beg for it.”
And just as quickly as she grabbed me, Clarke released me like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just made my already-soaked shorts feel even more impossible.
Jesus Christ. This was going to be addictive. This was going to be trouble.
There was no universe where I’d get enough of this version of Clarke — confident, commanding, hungry. What the hell had I done?
I pressed my lips to the soft skin of her neck, obeying her without hesitation. “Please.” A kiss to her throat. “Please.” A kiss to her temple. I bit her earlobe, my pulse throbbing as she moaned and slid her hands over my body.
Her touch was steady, sure — stronger than she looked. Her hands trailed over my thighs, squeezed my hips, then slid up my bare torso. She cupped my breast, her thumb circling lazily, deliberately.
“Do better,” she murmured. “I know it’s in there.” She traced a single finger from my chest up my neck, hooking it under my chin. The shiver that ran through me was instant, uncontrollable.
She was teasing me — relentlessly. Pulling away at the last second. Keeping me on the edge. She loved the control. And God, she looked beautiful with it.
Her head held high. Her movements confident. Her eyes fixed on me like I was the only thing that mattered. For these next hours, I was.
I shifted, spreading my legs slightly so her thigh slid between mine. The position was perfect — her leg against my clit, my knee brushing the seam of her shorts.
“Oh, I see,” Clarke laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Go on.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. Anxiety curled in my stomach — or maybe it was arousal.
Probably both.
“I don’t know, I’m kind of—”
“Avalon Kennedy,” she said, eyes sparkling, “do you have stage fright?”
I scoffed. “I absolutely do not. I’ve just… I’ve never done this before.”
Clarke’s smile was blinding. “I’m your first? Wow, you don’t know how much of an honor this is—”
“Shut up,” I laughed, shoving her lightly.
The movement pressed my knee against her shorts — Clarke inhaled sharply, the friction hitting her just right. Before she could react, I rocked my hips forward, slow and deliberate. My arms wrapped around her neck as I began grinding against her thigh.
Her hands found my body again, guiding me, urging me, pushing me as I moved against her.
“Please,” I whispered, breath hot against her ear. “Please, Clarke.”
She gasped as the seam of her shorts rubbed against her clit.
I wondered — if I slid my hand between us, would I feel her pulse through the fabric? I dragged my hand down her chest, over her camisole, brushing my thumb over her nipple. Clarke’s breathing deepened, her body arching into my touch.
“Do you like that?” I asked, my fingers drifting lower.
Her eyes rolled back as my hand reached the seam of her shorts. Clarke looked up at me, her face flushed and perfect as she nodded before her soft blue eyes rolled back into her head as my fingers reached her pussy.
God, she was soaking. And it was all for me? A laugh bubbled out of my chest when she arched her back as my fingers curled and pumped deep inside her. One. Two. Three. Steady and deliberate, each time I could feel her body squirm beneath me, her breathing heavy.
Clarke moaned, legs tightening beneath me.
“Fuck, fuck—”
I pulled back slightly, only for her to grab my wrist.
“No. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
A slow, wicked smile curled at my lips. Well, well.
Who was begging now?