Page 103 of Drive Me Crazy
Ella and I exchange a secret look of anticipation.Home alone? Yes, please.I’ve truly gotten the full “high school experience,” trying to stay quiet and undetected as we fool around before bed. Our sex the past few days has been unhurried, with slow strokes and whispered “I love yous.” It’s been amazing, don’t get me wrong, but I’m desperate for the full volume of Ella’s moans as she comes.
The second we hear the garage door close, we sprint to Ella’s room, tripping over one another in a frenzied rush. I kick her door closed with my foot, leaving a whining Murphy on the other side.Can’t say I’m terribly sorry, buddy.
Clothes drop to the floor as we stumble to the bed. I climb on top of Ella, hungrily capturing her lips against mine. I’m so hard it feels like my dick is going to fall off. Her kiss is insistent, impatient, wanting me to be everywhere.
“I need you,” she whimpers, placing my hand between her legs so I can feel how wet she is.
I moan at what a mess she is for me. I slowly dip a finger inside her. Her back immediately arches, her perfect tits rising and falling with desire. My mouth waters at the mere sight of them. I suck her right nipple between my lips, swirling my tongue around the tightening bud. Switching between her two breasts, Ella moans like she’s been coded to do so. I add another finger inside her, caressing and curling until she’s rocking against my hand for more.
I slowly kiss my way down her body, nipping at the soft skin on the inside of her thighs. The happy sighs slipping throughher lips make me lightheaded. Fuck exploring cities. I want to explore Ella’s body every goddamn second of every goddamn day.
I slowly drag my tongue against her clit, sucking the sensitive nub the way I know she loves. The combination of my fingers pumping inside of her and my tongue tasting her make Ella cry out in pleasure. It’s a damn good thing we’re home alone. All I want is to watch her fall apart. To know she needs this just as much as me. My eagerness to coax an orgasm out of her is quickly rewarded. Her thighs tremble as she comes, pleasure pulsing through her body. I don’t move until Ella gently pushes my head away, too sensitive for more.
“I’m changing my death-row meal to you.” I smirk. “Your pussy is perfect, baby.”
She lets out a loud laugh, her body vibrating beneath mine. “That’s the one thing you can’t change your death-row meal to!”
Placing her hands on the sides of my face, she tugs my lips against hers. Her breathing gradually returns to normal, pupils dilated and lips slightly swollen. I quickly grab a condom, rolling it on before I line my tip up at her entrance. Pushing in slowly, I make sure she can feel my every ridge. She lets out the filthiest whimper I’ve ever heard.
“Fuck,” I groan above her. Sliding into her core is fucking electric. “Always so tight for me.”
I thrust deep inside her, my body burning with desire. The rhythm of our clashing hips is frantic, my pubic bone rubbing against Ella’s clit at the perfect angle. The noises she’s making are sinful and I can’t get enough of them.
“Your cock feels so good,” she breathes out, her voice desperate and raw. Her nails dig into my back with reckless abandon. “Love having you inside me.”
I’ll take Ella’s praise over the praise of the world any day. She knows the effect her words have on me, and I lose anysense of reality as I pump into her, surrendering myself to the overwhelming sensations. I feel my own release building like a rubber band about to snap.
“Yes,” she groans. “Come with me. I want to feel it—”
Ella shudders around me, biting into my shoulder as another orgasm rips through her. That always does it, her begging me. I can’t resist the ache in her voice. I utter her name like a prayer as I let go to a jarring, pulsing climax.
I roll over, lying on my back next to Ella.
“I love you.” She leans over and places a sweet kiss on my shoulder. “And King Dong.”
A happy laugh comes deep from my throat. “We love you, too, baby.”
FORTY-TWO
Ella
SOME FAMILIES DRESS up for Thanksgiving—jeans, skirts, button-downs, blouses. Not my family. Leggings and sweat-pants aren’t just suggested, they’re highly encouraged. There’s nothing worse than overindulging and having to sneakily unbutton your jeans at the dinner table. May as well get ahead of it and wear stretchy pants to accommodate the inordinate amount of potatoes and pie you’ll eat.
Blake thought I was kidding when I said that every inch of our kitchen would be covered in a dish or platter. When he comes inside after playing “American” football on Thanks-giving Day with my dad and brother, his jaw drops. He’s frozen as he watches Murphy follow my mom around, begging for scraps of food.
The five of us are in food comas after dinner. Blake tried everything my mom made, which put the biggest smile on her face, but now he’s complaining that even his sweats feel tight. Tyler’s sprawled out on the floor, claiming he’ll throw up if he moves. My mom doesn’t care. Nothing is going to stop our Thanksgiving Scrabble tournament. Not even Blake’s inability to spell things the American way. Colour, color. Centre,center. Aeroplane, airplane. Another world war almost breaks out when Blake starts using both British and American spellings for words, choosing whichever fits his tiles more favorably.
“I’m challenging that word,” Tyler tells Blake for the tenth time in the past hour. “Auberginesounds made up.”
I blow air out of my mouth loudly. This game is going to go on all night if Tyler keeps this up. “It’s a real word, Ty. It’s what they call eggplants in England.”
“They call eggplants aubergines?” The disbelief in his voice is comical. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Gormlesswas a real word,” my dad interferes neutrally. “I don’t think he’s making it up.”
Tyler huffs and searches the word on his phone. Blake watches him, the edges of his lips curling into a smirk. The two of them have been overly competitive ateverythingsince meeting. Football, video games, who can lift more. Now Scrabble.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tyler swears under his breath. “It’s a stupid British eggplant.”
