Jake Wants To Take

A kiss that is so much more than just a kiss. That is the beginning of us sighing into each other, into a path that we are tumbling down and one that will lead us right to where Rachel and Blake are right now.

If I'm not careful.

Because while I kiss Jake and feel his hands on my hips dragging me down into him, pressing my panty clad sex into the bulge in his pants, I hear them beside us. And I don't have to look to know that there is a combination of sounds coming from them that can only mean one thing.

A moan from her. A grunt from him. The wetness of body on body as he plunges his fingers into her sex while she takes his cock right to the back of her throat and beyond.

And I have to wonder how far they will go before they stop. Because Rachel has gone zero to one hundred with the boy and I could see her going all the way.

Easily. I could so easily see her falling into that.

She had been so eager all day long. Whispering in my ear and touching me and bouncing and flitting around me while she made me up and got me ready. She'd found her satisfaction, in the shower and with her fingers, but each time it hadn't diminished her eagerness or her appetites. If anything it seemed to only make her want more.

Like there was an itch that she couldn't scratch and everything she did only came close but that wasn't good. All that did was highlight and border it and all that meant was that attention was drawn to it. So all she wanted was more and all she needed was more and if we're being honest, well there was only one thing that was guaranteed to satisfy.

But I couldn't go that far.

"Oh Emily," Jake moans against my lips, "You feel so good. When I saw you earlier today I wanted to touch you and when you weren't there anymore all I wanted was to find you. Emily. God you're so fucking hot."

Jake is not a complex man, that much is clear to me. Him parsing a compliment that is akin to poetry would be out of place, but I'd be lying if I said that his words weren't having an effect on me all the same.

Or maybe that was just the action that went along with them. His strong and meaty hands palming the orbs of my ass and squeezing so hard he drew me forward onto him and so the bulge in his pants pressed even harder against my sex, sending a shot of pleasure racing up my spine so fast it tumbled out of my mouth in a moan.

Or maybe it was just being wanted. Maybe it was just being desired. Maybe it was that his stumbling and fumbling words were honest in their blunt simplicity and that made me feel good. Feel desired.

Maybe that was it.

Or maybe it was just uncomplicated. Maybe I didn't need flowers and poetry and romance. Just a roll in the dirt like the animal I was when you stripped all the rest of everything else away.

Just a girl with a need and a shocking lack of an ability to say no Why would I say no when the word now works so much better?

And so, "Jake," I moan as I press my lips into his neck and run my hands up under his shirt, feeling the rigid hardness of his impressive abs and pushing even further up to the firm solidity of his pecs. And I moan his name again as I grind myself down onto him, wondering and wavering and needing in the dark.

Needing him.

Knowing that it's more complicated than that.

Because, with only a few layers of flimsy fabric between us, his cock was so dangerously close to plunging into me. And I didn't know what to do.

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