Page 66 of Instigator

I shift beneath him, unabashedly throwing my leg over his shoulder, exposing the scars that run from my groin to my knees. Silently, I tell him exactly where I want him.

And he doesn’t miss the mark.

When his mouth connects with me, I jolt, then settle. My eyelids flutter, and I do my best to force them open. To watch as his smile kisses my cunt. To commit this to memory.

Aidan slips a finger inside me, my natural wetness mixed with the added lubricant helping to ease the glide. I rock my hips, trying to take him deeper. I want more. Need more.

My hands fall to his head, and I run my fingers through his hair. It’s soft. Fluffy. The perfect length to clutch as he sucks the bud of my clit into his mouth, and my body hums.

That familiar pulse of attraction warring with affection runs through me. All of this is made better because it’s him, because we’ve established our intimate, emotional connection before ever taking it physical.

And as pleasure courses through me, as he brings me to the edge and then I tumble over it, I know this isn’t a one-time thing. This is real. I don’t think it’s possible to have my fill of this man. I’m going to want him again and again and again.

Sex is fun. It’s lighthearted, and it feels good, but if I never see the guy again after, I’m not hurt.

But sex with Aidan? Holy fuck, does this change things. Knowing how he feels about me, and how I do about him… Our long-standing friendship is only making this more intense.

I won’t be the same after this. I’m forever changed.

He gives me exactly what I need. Exactly what I want. I chase my release, grinding down on his hand and taking what he offers so freely.

“I—I—” The words won’t come.

“I know, Ceci,” he murmurs. “I know.”

When I go slack against the mattress, Aidan presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh, then crawls his way up my body.

It’s my turn to take control. I nudge him onto his back and run my hands over his torso, mapping the muscles that fascinate me so much. I’ve never been with a professional athlete before. My inner sports fan is thrilled, and I want to scream from the roof that fat, dumpy, brainiac Cecilia Ramos was able to pull a hotshot hockey player into her bed. A giant fuck you to all the people who bullied me and belittled me for what I looked like. Who derided me for my brain, for my drive.

But it’s the fact that it’s him. Aidan. Wish. The man I’ve slowly become obsessed with. He is the most important part. Not the labels that define either of us. It’s the substance that makes us who we are.

As powerful as a queen on her throne, I straddle his thighs. My fingertips trail over his belly, memorizing the ridges and bumps of his abs. His sharp inhalation spurs me to keep going. I run my fingers through the coarse pubic hair at the base of his pelvis, then finally, finally wrap my hand around his condom-covered cock.

He’s hard, leaking into the rubber, twitching against my palm with every strong pull. I use my other hand to cup his balls, drawn up high and tight.

“Ceci,” he gasps. “Please.”

Leaning down, I brush my lips over his, and he lets out a grunt, deepening the kiss. His hands land on my hips, squeezing, but he doesn’t try to hurry me along. He lets me take my time. I’m in control here.

I didn’t know how much I needed that until right this moment.

And then all of a sudden, there’s a shift. I almost don’t recognize it.

His eyes squeeze shut, and he’s muttering under his breath, his body coiled tight with tension. And not the good type.

Beneath my touch, his cock softens, and a pang of hurt ricochets through me.

He doesn’t want me.

I’m not desirable enough for him.

We aren’t compatible.

I remove my hand from his dick, rolling off him.

Aidan swallows loudly, turning to face me. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says roughly.

It takes everything in me to refrain from rolling my eyes. He doesn’t need my scorn. I have enough of it pent up inside me.