Shayla looked down at him and he pulled her closer. Trey’s hand on her inner thigh almost stopped her heart. She paused, waiting, as he opened his hand and slowly moved it upward. When he got to the barrier provided by the seam of her underwear, he didn’t pull it aside as she expected, as she yearned for him to do. Instead he used two fingers to glide across the surface of the smooth fabric, sending what felt like tiny shockwaves directly to Shayla’s core, which already felt swollen and engorged.
Saying nothing, he continued the slow caress of his fingers over the fabric of her panties. Shayla could feel herself getting wetter, and Trey did too because he made a low sound in the back of his throat, a sound of appreciation, of anticipation.
“I don’t want this to get complicated,” he said.
“Me either,” Shayla managed.
“And I’m not looking for a girlfriend.”
“I don’t recall offering.”
He removed his fingers and Shayla felt an immediate sense of deprivation. His face was level with her stomach. His eyes looked darker and Shayla could see by the rise and fall of his chest that he was as excited as she was. She hid her smile.
“I just want to make sure we don’t make a mistake,” he said. As he spoke he pulled down her shorts, searching for the waistband of her panties. Finding them, he began its slow descent as well, peeling them down over her hips. “I don’t want there to be any . . .”
“Misunderstandings,” she finished for him. “Yeah. I get it.”
“Do you?” he said, his eyes meeting hers once again.
Her panties and shorts were at her knees now. She would say anything he wanted her to say. Anything, to make sure he didn’t stop touching her.
“Yup. No writing ‘Trey and Shay’ on my notebooks at work, that sort of thing.”
He looked at her through his eyelashes and graced her with a brief smile. Then he used his hands on the insides of her knees to shove her legs apart.
“We can stop,” she suggested in her last gasp of bravado. But there was no conviction in her voice and he knew it. Trey looked at her.
“Stop?” he asked.
He leaned in closer and almost without her consent, Shayla felt her hips arch toward his face.
“I mean . . . I mean after this one time,” she lied. “We could stop after this time.”
“Yeah, we could . . .” Trey said, but he sounded no more convincing than she had.
Image: ‘Kiss’ by Tony Guerrero, Available at: http://tony-guerrero.deviantart.com/art/