Chapter 6: To Bed 🌶️🌶️🌶️

Between her legs everything had gone tingly and numb and itchy all at once. His fingerpads rubbed against her pussy, and every now and then his fingertips would dip into her slit.

The opening that had never been touched before kept clenching on its own. The soft flesh inside spasmed in small waves, and then something warm and slick came flooding out — traveling to the entrance of her hole, running onto his fingers.

"When did you get this wet." He was rubbing her hard now, and he'd started asking her private things in a low voice.

His voice had gone husky. It had a rough, magnetic quality it didn't normally have — something that sounded more like a grown man than a boy. The kind of voice you only heard at night, in the dark, when someone was turned on. The kind of voice only a lover would hear.

June shook her head. She couldn't keep up with his teasing. She looked at him, honest and confused. "What got wet?"

"Feel for yourself." He gave a quiet laugh, took her hand, and pressed her fingers to the place he'd just been touching.

Her fingertips trembled. She felt a pool of warm, slippery fluid flooding the space between her thighs.

She'd gotten wet. Right there in front of Tate.

She lowered her head, shaking faintly. Her pale body in the dim light had taken on a color that was all desire.

Tate kept rubbing her waist and back with the V of his hand. Then he pressed himself against her thigh — his erection, still inside his sweatpants, hard and obvious against her skin. His fingers hadn't stopped moving in the wet crease between her legs.

"I want to rub against you."

He gripped his cock through the sweatpants with one hand, pressing the tented front of it against the wet mess of her pussy, grinding slow. "Can I?"

"Just like this? Through the pants?" She looked up at him.

"I'll take them off." The rims of his ears had gone red. "Do you want to see?"

She thought of the way he'd looked a few minutes ago, leaning against the window. Her heart dropped out from under her and started hammering.

"Yes." Her voice was very soft. It sounded warm and sweet going in.

Tate lowered his eyes. He stepped back, reached behind himself with one hand, and pulled his shirt off in a single clean motion. Tossed it aside.

Then he hooked his thumbs into his sweatpants and dragged them down. The drawstring swung. The underwear came with them. Both got kicked to the floor.

His skin was smooth and his body was long. There was something animal inside the frame of him — young, coiled, full of power that hadn't been spent yet.

His waist was solid. His muscles were lean and defined. At his groin was a thatch of dark hair, and out of it stood a thick, long cock.

It hung slightly from its own weight but the tip still curved upward, forming a blunt, aggressive angle. Veins wrapped around the shaft. There was something raw and brutally built about it that couldn't be put into words.

Tate looked down at the thing between his legs — the part of his body his brain had no say over — then lifted his gaze to her.

"Does this gross you out?"

"Gross me out how?"

"This." He reached down and flicked it lightly. The veins on the shaft were pulsing, jumping, running up toward his V-line and lower abs.

The color of his cock was clean. Most of it was his natural skin tone. The tip was flushed pink. It was the kind of thing no girl would look at and recoil from.

It was deceptive that way. Inviting. It made you forget how long and thick it actually was. For a girl's body, this was a very big cock.

"I heard that the first time a girl sees a guy's — thing — she gets disgusted and wants to turn the lights off."

He said it like a joke at his own expense. His face looked calm enough, but there was no confidence behind it at all.

June looked at Tate. He was naked too, same as her, but he seemed even more nervous than she was.

Just like that afternoon when he'd pulled her out of the classroom and told her he wanted to be her boyfriend.

His gentle touching had already taken away a lot of her shyness. But his body still hadn't been accepted by her — hadn't been acknowledged.

She moved closer. Looked down at his cock. Reached out with both hands, ran her fingertips along the surface, and then wrapped her hands around it — one in front of the other.

"Your tip is all swollen and shiny. Does it hurt being this hard?" Her voice was soft and light, almost comforting. She rubbed the pad of her thumb across the head of his cock.

The thing in her hands jumped — an involuntary excited twitch he couldn't have stopped if he'd tried.

Every ounce of restless adolescent desire was packed into this one organ. He swallowed. He was ashamed of his own reaction. But he couldn't stop himself from pressing a little closer to her.

A low sound from the back of his throat. "Mm." His voice came out hoarse and strained. "It hurts. It keeps me up at night…"

"Where should I touch to make it feel better?" she asked.

Tate took her hand. He showed her where to touch, how to work the sensitive spots.

June learned clumsily, patiently. One hand cupping and rolling his balls. The other pressing her palm against the ridge below his crown, stroking, occasionally catching the thin band of skin on the underside of the head.

Her fingers — the same soft, clean fingers she used every day — were rubbing the most sensitive part of his body. Tate tipped his head back. His eyes went unfocused, staring at nothing. A low, strained groan dragged itself out of his throat.

Right before his abs and his spine locked up completely, he caught her wrist. His throat worked. He pulled her hand off his cock with effort.

"That's enough."

There was a faint layer of red at the corners of his eyes.

"Let me carry you to bed."