MY FATE FOR YOURS

Chapter 9- EAMON

Eamon

 I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, but I can’t stop. She’s perfect against me. My hands on her ass is driving me insane and I’m scrambling to think if I have a condom somewhere in my pants or if I’m about to be really frustrated.

Rachel sighs into my mouth as I set her down, and that’s normally a sign that a girl is ready to slow down but not her. Her teeth graze my lips as she starts another kiss, and her hands find their way up my damp t-shirt. Every cell in my body is 100 percent in this moment and wanting whatever she’ll give me. She’s so fucking familiar, but this side of her is so new, I can’t get enough. I can’t touch enough. I slide my hands under the small tank she wore running until I come to her stupid running bra which feels like it’s an inch thick and made of steel.

I tease my thumbs under the front edge but can’t get in so I run my hand over the top of her chest, her nipples managing to press into my palms, even through the tough fabric. I run my hands along the top edges of her bra before realizing I’m not getting in there, either. This is like digging into my first bra—a puzzle and something that makes me feel like a kid. A beginner. This is Rachel; I don’t need to be putting on amateur hour for her. If anyone deserves better, it’s her.

And the most perfect thing happens. Rachel laughs. “Damn running wardrobe.”

“Damn something.” Only as I look at her face, her pinked cheeks and thick waves of hair, I can think of a few other places I’d like my hands and mouth. I push back gently on her chest until she’s lying on one of the bleacher seats and slide her tank up enough to expose her stomach.

Women pay trainers for the body Rachel gets just by being Rachel. Working hard and playing hard. She moans as my lips touch her stomach, and it’s never been this addicting making a woman feel good before. I wanna do what I’ve always told Tobin to do and take my time, I just don’t know if I have it in me because right now I want to rip off every shred of clothing, including that damn steel bra and take her out here in the open. Every time my lips kiss lower, a small, pleasure filled noise laced with want escapes from her, and I want to do more. Hear her more. She deserves this so much.

I run my lips to the top of her shorts, then tug them down a few inches. Part of me expects this to be the point when reality kicks in and she flinches away but instead her hips arch up toward me, just slightly. Enough for me to know she wants this as badly as I do.

Pushing my fingers further down, I figure we’ll go just a bit further and I expect to feel hair but there’s nothing…just her.

“Oh, god,” I groan. “Are you bare?”

“Yes.” Only the word sounds more like a plead than anything else.

“You’re trying to kill me, Rach,” I say. I’m aching for this girl, a fact that is physically  hard to hide now. I reach for the button on my pants when the distinctive whine of at least two bikes hit my ears.

Damn.

Rachel slumps at the same time my body tenses in frustration. She sits up and quickly slides away from me, pulling her tank down over her stomach.

We stare at one another for a moment, and I wonder when it’ll hit both of us that we might be playing with something really stupid here, I just don’t know how to step away. From my friend Rachel. Before she can get the idea that I’m freaking out-- because I might be a little, I grab her around the waist and slide my tongue between her teeth.

She wordlessly answers back immediately, kissing me hard, before standing, walking down the few steps and jogging the second her feet hit dirt. Like she knows as much as I do that we don’t want anyone seeing us together.