<Tension At its Peak
Tension At Its Peak
~Lyra~
I pretended to be shocked
Played dumb
Because I wanted him to snap
I wanted him to lose it
I wanted to push him to that line and make him cross it
So I leaned back
Let my spine press harder into the tree trunk
Tilted my head like I didn’t know what he meant
“Do what,” I whispered, voice all sweet and breathy like I was the most innocent little thing on the planet
He stepped closer
So f*****g close
I could feel his heat now
Feel his chest almost brushing mine
Feel the air shift between us with tension and lust and things no girl my age should be thinking about this
hard
His breath hitched
I saw his jaw clench
I saw his eyes flick down again
Straight to my t**s
Which I was absolutely still squeezing together because f**k it I wanted him to look
I wanted to drown him in it
I wanted to watch him struggle
His hand twitched at his side like it wanted to move
Like it wanted to grab
His nostrils flared
His tongue swept over his bottom/lip like he could already taste me
And then he whispered it
This soft little growl that made my knees buckle
“Your t**s, Lyra.”
O
Tension At Its Peak
God help me
1 almost came just hearing him say it
“I can see them through your dress,” he said, and his voice was tight now, strained, like he was holding back
something vicious. “And you know that. You f*****g know that.”
I gasped
Actually gasped
Because it wasn’t just the words
It was the way his voice cracked at the edges
Like he wanted to yell
Or moan
Or drop to his knees and suck them just to shut me up
“You’re not wearing a bra,” he added, like he needed to say it out loud, like it was driving him insane
My eyes fluttered
I let out the tiniest moan
And that was it
His control started to slip
He took another step
His chest brushed mine
His hand rose
Almost touched me
Almost cupped my breast right through the wet fabric
But he stopped
He pulled back
Shook his head
Like he was trying to remember who he was
Like he was seconds away from f*****g me under this tree and he knew it
“Lyra,” he said again, rough this time, almost pleading, “don’t play with me.” My thighs clenched
I could feel my g–string soaking now
I could feel slick leaking down the inside of my leg
I was a mess
And he hadn’t even touched me yet
“What if I’m not playing,” I whispered
Teens At 11 Pesk
I don’t know why I said it
I don’t know where it came from
But once it was out there I couldn’t take it back
And his eyes
God
His eyes changed
Everything in his face darkened
His hand slammed into the tree beside my head, fingers digging into the bark
His body pinned me in place
His ck–hard, thick, angry–pressed against my stomach through his sweatpants and oh my f*****g God?
felt it I felt everything
“You’re not old enough to be talking like that,” he growled, his face so close I could feel his breath on my lips
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be looking at me like that,” I whispered
It was a war now
A slow, filthy, breathless war
His knuckles brushed my cheek
His other hand hovered just beneath my breast
I held still
Waiting
Daring
Begging without saying a word
Then I whimpered
Quiet
Pathetic
Accidental
And he groaned
Like the sound broke him
“I should walk away,” he muttered, more to himself than to me
“Then why haven’t you,” I whispered
His head dropped
His forehead pressed to mine
Our breaths tangled
Everything went quiet
< Tension At Its Peak
Except the rain
The wind
The throb between my legs
And his voice
One more time
Soft
Broken
Hungry
“Because you’re f*****g killing me,” he growled, voice all wrecked and ragged like he’d just fought a war with
himself and lost.
And I swear to God my p***y clenched so hard I almost whimpered.
Because he meant it.
He wasn’t bluffing.
He wasn’t teasing.
He was starving.
And I was the only thing on the menu.
I could feel it in the way his jaw flexed.
I could feel it in the way his chest heaved against mine.
I could feel it in the way his eyes dropped to my mouth like he was about to lose every bit of his control and f**k me right there against the tree until I cried his name.
So I smiled.
Real slow.
Real cruel.
The kind of smile that said I know exactly what I’m doing to you and I want to watch you break from it.
“Then maybe I want to kill you,” I whispered, voice soft and sugar–sweet but dripping with something filthier,
darker, wetter.
His nostrils flared.
His whole body jerked forward like he didn’t even mean to.
The hand braced beside my head curled into a fist, and the other one–oh God–the other one lifted halfway, hovering just beneath my t**s like he didn’t trust himself to touch me without ruining me.
I leaned in closer.
Close enough for my breath to ghost over his lips.
Close enough for my soaked t**s to brush his chest and make his eyes go wide.
4:8
Tension At Its Peak
“Do you want to know what I was thinking about under that tree?” I whispered, so quiet, so dirty it didn’t even
sound like it came from me.
He didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
His eyes were locked to my lips like they were dangerous.
“Hmm?” I tilted my head like I was trying to be sweet, like I wasn’t about to destroy both of us.
“Do you want to know what I was doing while you were yelling at me on the phone?”
His throat bobbed.
His breath stuttered.
I knew I had him.
So I dragged it out
Wickedly
Obscenely
“I had my hand between my legs,” I breathed, voice shaking now because I was so wet again I could feel it leaking down my thigh. “Two fingers, Daddy. Just two.”
His groan was more like a snarl.
“Slipping through my panties while I moaned your name.”
His mouth parted.
I didn’t stop.
Couldn’t stop.
“Thinking about your voice. That angry voice. That thick c**k pressed to your thigh while you drove like a f*****g demon to find me.”
“Lyra,” he growled.
His eyes were black.
His lips swollen from how hard he was breathing.
His hand reached up–finally–hovering over my chest.
Just a few centimeters from my n****e.
“But I didn’t come,” I whispered, eyes wide, fake innocent, soaked in filth.
He blinked like he didn’t believe me
I leaned forward.
Brushed my lips against his jaw
“I waited for you.”
His whole body twitched.
<
Tension At Its Peak
He was trembling.
Actually trembling.
And so was I.
So I pressed my t**s together. Tighter.
Let the fabric push up around the shape of my n*****s.
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