I should have said no.
When her hand slid beneath the blanket — fingers light, deliberate, hunting — I should have stopped her.
But I didn't.
Because it wasn't just her hand that touched me.
It was the heat in her voice.
The soft, relentless pressure in her gaze.
The slow, sensual glide of her thigh pressing against mine like it had every right to be there.
And maybe, at that point, it did.
"Relax," she whispered, lips close to my ear. "You're so tense."
Her fingers were already under my waistband, warm and certain, curling around me like she'd done it a hundred times in her dreams — or mine.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"You're hard again," she said with a giggle. "Poor thing… You're always so worked up around me."
"Lila—" My voice cracked.
She shushed me with a kiss to my neck — slow, soft, just beneath the ear.
"Let me take care of you…"
Then she slid under the blanket.
One moment she was beside me — the next, gone. Disappeared beneath the throw draped over my lap.
I could feel her breath — hot and humid — against my skin.
Then her fingers.
Then her mouth.
I almost lost it right there.
---
"You smell good," she murmured under her breath, tongue tracing just below my belly button. "You taste better."
She licked a slow, teasing path down my length — not even taking me in yet — just watching me squirm under her blanket trap.
And then, finally, she took me in her mouth.
Warm. Wet. Divine.
She moved slow. Purposeful.
Not sloppy. Not rushed.
Like she enjoyed this. Like every inch of me was something she wanted to savor.
I couldn't breathe.
Her tongue swirled around the tip, then dipped down the underside, then back again.
Every time I twitched, she moaned — softly, like she was getting off on it.
The sounds.
The warmth.
The way her lips sealed around me, just tight enough to leave me shaking…
"Lila—fuck—stop, I'm gonna—"
She didn't stop.
She moaned again, sucking harder now, hands gripping my hips as she bobbed her head faster beneath the blanket.
My legs tensed. My fingers dug into the couch cushions.
Then I exploded — hard — into her mouth.
She swallowed everything.
Every drop.
And when she emerged from under the blanket, she licked her lips and smiled like she'd just had dessert.
"You taste like sin," she whispered, kissing my chin. "I'm addicted."
---
I stared at her, completely wrecked.
Heart racing. Chest rising and falling.
She looked like nothing had happened.
Just a girl in her stepbrother's hoodie, curled on the couch with flushed cheeks and eyes that burned like gold in the morning light.
"What… the fuck was that?"
She cocked her head.
"I told you," she said sweetly. "I was hungry."
---
Later, in the shower, I looked at myself in the mirror.
Something was different.
Not just the afterglow.
Something deeper. Something missing.
Like a piece of me had been… drained.
> She didn't just take my body.
She took something else.
And yet…
> I wanted her again.
---
That night, I dreamed about her.
But it wasn't just a dream.
Because I woke up sweating, panting — and she was on top of me, straddling my lap in the dark.
Wearing nothing.
"Couldn't sleep," she whispered. "Thought I'd help us both relax."
She leaned down, lips brushing mine, nipples dragging across my chest.
"Unless you'd rather I stop…"
But I couldn't speak.
Because she was already grinding.
Already moaning.
And I was already hard again.
To be Continued...