GHOST OF YOU | BWS

twenty-one.

"Making what easier? You rejecting me? Well I'll do the job for you as it seems you don't have the balls to do it", I answer before I turn around and start walking towards the door, determined to leave his place with a straight head despite wanting to cry right now.

Yes, I can take rejection, but I never said I take it well. Especially when I thought he actually cared about me, and wanted me as much as I wanted him.

A hand suddenly grabs my wrist and makes me turn around before I can reach the door.

"No. Making it easier to stick to my bloody decision to not touch you despite my wanting to fucking take you right this instant", he says and my heart skips a beat.

A wave of heat rushes to my cheeks and down between my legs. Did I hear him correctly? Or am I so sexually frustrated that I am hearing things now? I look at him too stunned to move or say anything.

"You've been through a lot in the last couple of days", he continues. "You're tired and scared and in no state to make any type of decision right now"

Is that really what he thinks? That my wanting to have sex with him is because I'm tired? Or scared?

"You're right", I answer and I swear I heard a sigh of relief come out of his lips. "I'm tired and scared. Tired of listening to you talking nonsense and scared you'll really stick to that no touching me decision", I add as I take a step closer to him, closing the distance between us.

His body tenses up, his grip on my wrist tightening without him even realizing it. His chest moves up and down abnormally fast as his eyes struggle to focus on mine. I can tell from the way he is looking at me right now that he is really struggling to stick to his decision. My being so close to him doesn't seem to be helping. I take advantage of his mental battle and place my free hand on the back of his neck before kissing him. I was expecting him to fight it, and push me away, but he doesn't. He lets go of my wrist and places his hands on my waist and on the small of my back, pressing me eagerly onto him. Our kiss quickly heats up, neither of us resisting anymore.

He drags me to his bedroom where he helps me out of his clothes and pushes me onto his bed before taking his own clothes off and lying on top of me. His lips trail down my body, from my lips to my neck, and down to my bare breasts, making me shiver at the contact. His hands are moving up and down my thighs, grabbing my flesh eagerly. He slowly moves his kisses down to my stomach, until his lips are where I need them the most. There is something electrifying about having his tongue buried in between my legs, my toes curling up already as my hands try to find something, anything to hold onto. He doesn't let me finish, making me groan in frustration, and brings his lips back to mine. I couldn't care less about where they've been only a moment ago, and deepen our kiss, eager to feel him inside of me. I need a release. Now. Soon enough, he has a condom on and is thrusting inside of me, my legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked on his back to feel him deeper. On the edge of release, my hands hold on to his back, my fingers digging into his skin while he lets out low growls of pleasure. We both come undone almost simultaneously, and Brad drops on the bed next to me after helping me ride out my high. We lie there, looking at the ceiling, panting and covered in sweat.

It all happened so fast, it feels like a dream. But the throbbing between my thighs attests of the reality of it.

After a moment, Brad gets up and leaves the room to, I assume, get rid of the condom before coming back wearing a pair of boxers and sits down on the edge of the bed, turning his back to me.

"Fuck", he says, passing his hands in his hair in frustration as he always does.

That doesn't sound good. Does it regret it already? Am I that bad?