She sat down on her bed, and I sat down beside her. I couldn’t help smiling. “Is this toxic girl Taylor?” I asked.
I wanted her to smile with me, but instead, she just frowned. “I think you know the type at this point,” she admitted quietly. “Quinn, I think we’re more alike than I wanted to admit when I first met you.”
“You have a duty to protect others, but you feel as though you get taken advantage of yourself?” I offered. “You hate being walked on, but it’s kind of hard to stop when you’re used to just helping people?”
She looked into my eyes and smiled. “Either you’re really perceptive, you’re psychic, or you did hear some of the stuff we said downstairs, you liar,” she playfully accused.
“If I said I was psychic, would that make you impressed enough to give me a kiss?” I joked.
“This one’s a freebie,” she laughed, leaning in. Gently, I met her lips with mine and gave her a kiss. Despite the pain she was in, she relaxed and melted into the kiss, giving a small appreciative moan as our lips met.
Slowly, we pulled away from each other. “Yeah, I lied,” I admitted. “I thought it would be awkward to tell the truth.”
“I understand,” she told me simply. “She pisses me the fuck off sometimes.”
“And Doug?”
“Complicated,” she answered simply. “I’ll just say that he feels like age always gives you wisdom.”
“I think you’re kind of wise beyond your years,” I admitted.
She gave me a look. “Quinn, come on.”
“No, I’m serious! You have a lot of emotional intelligence,” I told her. “He seems more… bro-y than you.”
“You’ll get on his good side soon, I’m sure.”
“After you threatened him,” I quipped. “Besides, it’s true, I’m not a ten on th-”
“Shut up,” she barked at me. “Just shut up. There’s no such thing as objective looks. It’s not impossible for me to find you attractive. It’s not impossible for you to be attractive. You’re fucking attractive, Quinn. There’s no number on the looks chart. It’s not even a thing. I just look at you, and I think, ‘wow, it’s Quinn. I want to date him. I want to kiss him.’ Is that so unbelievable?”
“See? Emotional intelligence,” I insisted.
“Admit I find you attractive,” she ordered, quickly adding, “Physically. Don’t weasel out.”
“Do I get to admit I’m not conventionally attractive when I say it?”
“Only if I get to point out that ‘conventional’ doesn’t mean a fucking thing.”
“Morgan, despite not being conventionally attractive to many, you find me attractive. You find me physically attractive.”
“Quinn, ‘conventional’ doesn’t mean a fucking thing.” We shared a giggle. “There are people, lots of people, that would never find Taylor attractive. There are lots of people that wouldn’t find me attractive.”
“Well, they’re not here. I am,” I told her, moving in close to her face.
She smiled slightly. “Hot.”
I kissed her gently, then looked into her eyes. “Morgan,” I began. “You’re such a kind and giving person. I want to give back to you. What can I do that would make you happy?”
Her eyes got misty, and she didn’t say anything for a bit. “I… really liked hearing that. Even just hearing that,” she shakily said.
I smiled at her. We were more alike than I had realized. Realizing I had already talked the talk at this point, I internally grimaced at the realization that I had to take initiative again, although I’d gladly do it for her. “Lay down,” I gently said.
She gave me a curious look. “What for?”
“It won’t be as romantic if I tell you what I plan on doing.”
She looked nervous. “I’m kind of an overthinker. Is what you’re going to do-”
“We’re not going all the way,” I chuckled. “And I’m going to remain clothed.”
She smiled and blushed, looking away. I read her mind. I turned her head back to me and gave her another gentle kiss, before pushing her on both of her shoulders, letting her flop on top of the bed. Trying to be as graceful as possible, I climbed on top of her, kissing her lips over and over, slowly going down to her neck.
She closed her eyes and sighed when she felt my first kiss on her neck. I went from polite chaste kisses to passionate open-mouth kisses, until we got to the point where I was definitely going to leave marks.
It was clear that Morgan’s neck was a sensitive spot. She kept moving around as I kissed her neck, to such an extent that I began to worry if I was hurting her or something. And yet, every time I tried pulling up from her neck to check up on her, her hand would find the back of my head and pull me back down. Clearly I was doing something right. Armed with this information, I pressed on, kissing and biting her neck, feeling her body flush and practically grow hotter with her passion.
As I kept kissing and biting her, my hands once again found their way over her shirt, then under. I decided not to grab anything or be too sudden with my movements — it was easy to forget, but she was probably hurting right now, with her hangover and all. I made slow sweeping motions up and down her body, paying attention to when she’d react and which areas my fingertips were grazing when she reacted. Apart from one area where she was clearly just ticklish, I had tried to commit to memory the areas she particularly seemed to like and ‘mapped’ her out. Once I did, I retreated my head, moving it down to her torso, lifting her shirt. Morgan’s cream-colored torso greeted my eyes, along with a bra that looked too tight on her body. I wondered if today was the day I was going to truly let her body breathe.
I smiled and looked into Morgan’s eyes. I was still as nervous as always, but it was fun to try and keep up some confidence around her. I wanted to be confident for her. “You’re really sexy,” I said in a low voice.
She smiled back. “What are you going to do…?”
In answer, I lowered my head to her stomach, kissing around the areas where I saw her react before. While she wasn’t reacting as strongly as she did when I kissed her neck, Morgan was still sighing happily and enjoying the attention on her. Her boyfriend was showing her how much he appreciated her body. Every inch of skin was being appreciated. I could feel her hips start to move, and her pelvis start to grind the air.
Boldly, my one hand moved down to cup her pelvis. I didn’t move in and start roughly manhandling her, I just kept my hand over her, perhaps massaging her with the slowest motions possible. As soon as she felt me make contact, her head went up and she looked right at me, her mouth in an ‘O’ shape of shock. It was interesting — she was both inviting me, and yet completely floored whenever I went for it. She didn’t look uncomfortable, but she did have her eyebrows together. It was like fear, but… clearly eager. It was sexy. It was like I was claiming her, and she was all too eager for me to take her.
I felt my smile broaden as my eyes never left hers and my hand began to rub her pussy over her pants in a more pronounced way. The heat instantly went to her cheeks, and she hung her head back, reaching for a pillow and pulling out over her face. She moaned into the pillow — I’ll never forget the sound of her moan. It was guttural, eager, hungry. The moan of a girl in heat. The moan of a girl who needed to appear proper and motherly to her friends in public, but deep down, really loved being a good little girl in the bedroom.