"Don't..." he rubbed my clit slowly, and I gasped, closing my eyes shut. "You ever think of talking about that damn blondie in front of me again," he dipped a finger into me slowly, and I squeezed my toes in my shoes. "Or think of seeing or getting...
A small yawn slipped from my lips as I turned over in bed, sunlight streaming into my room and casting a bright glow all around.
I snuggled up under my blanket, staring at the plain wall, my mind feeling empty. A strange feeling washed over me, like I was missing something important but couldn't figure out what.
Ever since Gerard and I joked around on the field, we haven't talked. He tried reaching out through calls and messages, but I ignored him. I wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.
Now, though, I'm starting to regret it. Even though my life has been calm without him this past week, I can't help but miss him for no reason at all. And it annoys me that I'm missing him.
His familiar citrusy scent, enveloping me in a wave of memories.The depth of his blue eyes, stirring butterflies in my stomach with just a glance. And his gentle touch, sending shivers down my spine, igniting a warmth that made me wet.
We were gearing up for a school excursion, more like a trip, and I found myself wondering if Gerard would be joining us.
Irrationally, the thought of going without him didn't sit right with me, yet I couldn't muster the courage to ask him directly, even though I knew he'd give me a straight answer.
"Ugh..." I muttered, frustration bubbling up as I closed my eyes for a moment before sitting upright.
Glancing around my room, I let out a heavy sigh.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I had an abundance of free time on my hands. The past three years had been a whirlwind of activity, but now, I was beginning to appreciate the simple pleasures of life.
Going to bed early, sharing dinner with Mum and Junior - these newfound routines had quietly crept into my life, and I hadn't realized how much I'd missed them until now.
My phone buzzed beside me on the bed, and I snatched it up eagerly. Gerard's name flashed on the screen, accompanied by a single message:
"We need to talk" - Gerard.
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As I scrolled through the flood of messages he'd sent over the past week, over a hundred in total, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. I could sense his frustration mounting, his desperation seeping through each word, but I remained indifferent.
I recalled the way his eyes lit up in the hallway whenever our gazes met, or the fleeting hurt that clouded his expression whenever I brushed him off in the library.
I knew he wasn't happy. I expected him to resort to his usual assertive tactics, to assert his dominance like the bad boy he was. But to my surprise, he had refrained from forcing his way into my life, and that only fueled my anger further.
Was texting and calling the extent of his efforts? I wanted more from him, craved the intensity we once shared. I longed for him to burst into my room like he used to, to take control and leave me breathless. I yearned for his touch, his grip, his...
