Dreams of 18(68)

I’m breathing against his lips – I know that – but my body is going into a state where I don’t know if I’m alive or dead or simply burning in lust.

“O-okay,” I whisper and rock against him.

“And I’m going to grow all the roses for you,” he promises like all the other promises he’s made tonight weren’t enough, like I needed to be slain some more. “All the roses that you’ll ever want so you don’t have to pick off the dying ones for your gift. That’s what you were doing that night, wasn’t it? You wanted your gift from me.”

I swallow. More like I hiccup and go all limp in his arms. Limp and breathy and a panting mess as I nod haltingly. “Y-yeah.”

He looks over my entire face, soaks in my features, and I love that.

I love so, so much that he’s seeing me.

Not only that but he’s been seeing me, watching me for ages. I thought I was invisible but I wasn’t.

I was visible to him.

To my Graham.

“And I’m going to do one other thing.”

“What?”

In reply, he presses a hard kiss on my mouth and I kiss him back. This time around, I feel his beard rubbing against my skin. I feel the sting as it happens and it makes me even hornier.

It makes me messier and sloppier, both my kiss that I can’t stop giving him and my pussy.

My pussy is running like a river. It’s clenching and releasing and I’m gushing cream and soaking my panties. I’m probably getting it all on my thighs too. Thighs that are wrapped around him and I bet he can feel my wetness.

I’m smearing it all over him as well. All over his stomach where my pussy is at. It doesn’t even cross my mind to stop. Not even for a second.

It just makes me more shameless and lusty.

It just makes me moan into his mouth continuously.

I feel him walking then, going through the bathroom door, striding down the hallway and entering a room – his room, most likely. But through all this, I don’t stop kissing him or moaning and rubbing my hands all over his face and rubbing my pussy over his stomach.

But then, I have to stop.

Because he breaks the kiss and launches me in the air.

I fall on the bed a split second later and scramble up on my elbows. I look up at him, at his harsh, panting form, and a pulse goes through my core.

He stands tall at the foot of his bed. His chest is flushed a dark hue and his entire body is heaving, juddering up and down, all bathed in sweat.

While I’m running my eyes over his body, he has his glued to my chest. By some miracle, my dress is still up and around my breasts – it’s the zipper around the back, I think – but it’s sagging.

The straps lie limply around my arms and I have a feeling that it won’t take much to bare my heaving breasts to him.

“Graham?” I call out his name when it looks like he’s not going to say anything.

Actually, it looks like he’ll never say anything because he’s just so lost in his staring.

He looks up now, though and inhales a heavy breath.

Then he gets on the bed. And he does it in a way that the whole frame shakes. The mattress dips under his weight, sags and submits like my dress did, back in the bathroom.

“I’m going to do one other thing to you, Violet,” he repeats, kneeling in front of me but still towering.

“What?” I ask, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He licks his lips as he bends down. Down and down, as if descending on me, until our foreheads are almost touching. Until I can’t see anything of his room, not the walls, not the ceiling, nothing at all except him and his darkly flushed face.

Clamping his jaw tight, he grabs hold of my dress.

My spine arches with the force of it. He pulls at my dress with both hands, bent over me like a beast from the mountains.

“I’m going to make you my slut,” he growls, tugging the dress down and it goes easily.

In a second, I’m bared to him and his gaze drops to my breasts.

I’ve always thought they were average. They were small and nothing to go crazy over.

But he’s going crazy over them. I can see that.

He likes the shape of them, the size, the paleness of them. And I know he likes my nipples. They’re cherry-red too. Hard and tight and rude, sticking up like that. Sticking up for him.

He swallows tightly and looks up. “You want to be my slut, don’t you?”

I nod and fist the sheets. “Yes.”

“I’ll make you my slut, Violet,” he whispers, coming even closer to me, his hands on my ribs now, spread wide, just under my breasts. “I’ll make you scream like a slut. You know how I’m going to do that?”

I’m breathing so hard that I’m actually shaking with it. I’m rolling my hips already, undulating my spine, making my breasts jiggle.

“How?”

“I’m going to give you your birthday kiss.” He licks his lower lip again like he’s imagining it. “The kiss I wanted to give you as soon as you turned eighteen. The kiss I couldn’t stop thinking about while I was on that useless date.”

I’m pretty sure he can feel my heart right now. He can feel it bouncing around in my rib cage, pounding against the bones and muscles, probably pounding against the palm of his hands.

“The date you were on?”