Silk and Shadows

By: Lauren Landish

And I want it. I want more. Who cares if that makes me weak? Right now, sure as fuck not me.

“You think you could teach me?” If I’d said it sweetly, he’d have probably smiled. As it is, I say it with disdain, like I somehow doubt his abilities. To be clear, I don’t, but I’m not going to let him in on that little fact just yet.

His smirk flashes and I hear the unspoken ‘challenge accepted.’ “Yeah, Norma, I think I could teach you all sorts of things about temptation. You think I don’t know how badly you want me to bend you over this couch and fill you full of cock? You’re tempted to let me, and better yet, I’m tempted to do it.”

His fingers flatten against my center, stopping my argument as he grinds against me. My breath hitches, and he keeps talking. “I want to hear your bratty mouth moaning my name against my palm because I have to muffle your cries so no one hears us.”

I whimper weakly, offering the barest of objections. “We shouldn’t. You should stop.”

“But you’re practically begging me not to stop,” he says, his fingers moving faster, and even through the fabric separating us, I know he can feel how hot and wet I am. “This is what you want, isn’t it?” I can’t deny the truth.

It’s torture. I want to say no just to show him that I’m stronger than he is. But my lips won’t form the word. Instead, I clutch at his iron-hard arm, gasping and on the edge of coming.

“Yes.” The word comes out without permission and he knows it.

Zach pulls away, leaving me weak as my body screams for release. “What? Keep going,” I groan.

He looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to realize that he’s not going to give in. “Fucking bastard,” I say, sitting up straight on the couch from where I’d slouched into his touch.

The corners of his mouth lift in amusement, but he reaches down and adjusts himself in his jeans. He looks huge and hard, and uncomfortably contained in their confines, as affected by this whole thing as I am. Even though I’m furious, there’s a horny bitch inside me that begs him to unzip and let his snake free. “Every day, after practice, we can meet. Five is too early. Eight would be better. I won’t be late.”

“What makes you think—” I gasp, my body still crying out. I shut up, realizing that my protests sound hollow even to my own ears. They must sound pathetic to him. “Fuck you,” I sneer. I might be so horny I can’t see straight, but I’ve still got some pride.

But Zach smiles that panty-melting grin, leaning in to tease me one last time. “Keep saying that and maybe you’ll get to. Honestly, I’m really hoping you do.”

He stands up and adjusts himself once more, knowing that my eyes will follow the movement. “See you tomorrow, Brat. It’s a date.”

I watch him walk away, glaring holes in his back. Inside, I want to scream and call him a bastard who doesn’t deserve to touch me, much less deserve my help. But deeper inside, I know I’m going to be here tomorrow at eight. On the dot.

Chapter 4


Dear Diary,

Remember when I said I’d wear my virgin badge proudly? Wait until I found someone worthy enough, that lit not just my body aflame, but my mind too?

I fucking found him.

In the worst package ever. Oh, it’s a pretty package, for sure, but I always figured I’d be repulsed by his “type”, the cocky jock. But something about him set me on fire in a way I’d never known.

I spent the night replaying his dirty words, my fingers replacing his remembered ones. I didn’t stop like he did though. I’m pretty sure my loud neighbor thinks I had a guy over because I damn sure said his name when I came.

But this morning, in the light of day, I’m humiliated that an assignment that should be relatively straightforward has turned into something so foundationally stupid. I know better than to think a guy is going to hang with me through my . . . brattiness. I’ve never actually been called a brat, and in fact, I rather take offense to it since I know the ‘spoiled rich girl’ assumptions people make when they find out my last name. But when Zach called me that, it almost sounded like he appreciated my mouthiness, like he was daring me to say more, anticipating what smart remark I’d come up with next.

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