32

" H i," he says .

"Hi. How did you... When did you?" I stammer.

He huffs a laugh. "I'd left before you'd even mentioned the twenty-four-hour convenience store."

I stand there, feeling a mix of surprise and delight. How can he be so thoughtful? It's almost too good to be true. As he steps into my apartment and closes the door behind him, he towers over me in all his six-foot-something glory, holding out the two pints of ice cream.

"I didn't know what flavour you liked, so I got both," he says casually, shrugging as if it's no big deal. I try to contain my bubbling excitement.

He offers me the pints to choose from—vanilla or choc chip cookie dough. My mouth waters instinctively. I reach eagerly for the choc chip cookie dough flavour, my eyes lighting up with delight.

"This is my all-time favourite!" I exclaim, unable to hide my enthusiasm.

His eyes soften. "Mine, too. "

I grab two spoons from a nearby drawer. "Wanna share, then?" I ask playfully, offering one to him. He nods with a small smile, accepting the spoon.

We settle on the couch together, the ice cream between us, and I can't help but steal glances at him when he's not looking. I notice how his smile flickers as Maverick's jet flies across the screen from Top Gun, a movie I've just discovered is one of his favourites. It feels intimate, and I'm hyper-aware of his presence beside me. Stealing glances at him, while engrossed in the film, I notice the subtle movements: how his Adam's apple bobs with each swallow, how his lips wrap around the spoon as he savours the ice cream. It's these small details that draw me in, and I can't deny it—he turns me on so much that I can literally feel my core pulsate, fluttering like it has a beat of its own and matching the rapid beat of my heart.

I shift, trying to ignore the way my body responds to his proximity, but it's impossible. The air between us crackles with tension.

I steal another glance at him, catching his eyes this time. Heat pools in my stomach, spreading through me like wildfire. I can't look away, and I don't want to. He sets his spoon aside and leans in closer.

"What are you thinking right now?" he asks, his voice husky with desire.

"I think you know," I reply, my breath catching in my throat.

"I want you to tell me."

"I want you," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to kiss me."

He hums softly at my words, then leans back against the couch, legs spread wide, his demeanour relaxed yet commanding. "Come here," he says, nodding toward his lap.

My heart races in my chest as I slowly straddle his thighs, feeling the firm bulge beneath his pants. Every subtle movement sends a delightful friction through me, awakening a sensation I never imagined.

I settle in his lap and instantly feel his bulge pressing into me. I bite my lip to suppress a moan. The tension between us is palpable, and I know that this moment will change everything.

"Do you still want to kiss me?"

"Yes," I reply, my voice a breathless whisper. I ache for his touch, for the connection of our lips, for the heat of his body against mine. I adjust over the bulge in his pants, and he tilts his head, his eyes locking onto mine as a low groan escapes him.

"Well, then, what are you waiting for?" he teases, his voice low and gravelly. It sends shivers down my spine, stirring my desire even more. Without hesitation, I lean in and press my lips to his. His mouth opens, tongue seeking entrance. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss, and my tongue swirls around his. His hands roam my body, up the sides, before moving down toward my arse, giving it a firm a squeeze. I gasp at the sudden sensation of his hardness rubbing against me through my thin pyjama pants, so I'm feeling everything. Everything .

Every touch of his, every caress, builds the tension between us to an unbearable level, and I never want it to end. Without breaking our kiss, I guide his hand to the hem of my shirt. He doesn't hesitate, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist, his warm hand on my skin sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. I moan softly into his mouth. Being around him gives me a sense of confidence I've never felt before. Without another word, he gently lays me back on the couch, his body hovering over mine.

His hand travels further up my stomach, but stops before he can reach my breast. "Can I touch you?"

"Yes, please," I say in a breathy moan, my heart racing.

In quick movements, he's on me, fondling my breasts through my shirt, before sliding a rough palm underneath to touch one directly. "Oh, my," I manage to gasp out. I'm not wearing a bra, and my eyes widen at the feeling of that first contact. Realisation finally hits me; I am actually very inexperienced. I have no idea what I'm doing. What I'm supposed to be doing. Should I be touching him back? Insecurity roots itself in my stomach, and my breathing hitches. He brushes a strand of hair from my face and pauses, locking eyes with me.

"Hey," he says gently, withdrawing his hand. "We can stop. I didn't come here for this. I just... want you to know that."

"No, no," I blurt out, flustered. "God, no. Don't stop, please. It's just…" My words trail off, my breath hitching in my throat.

"Just what?"

"I don't really know what to do," I admit, feeling so vulnerable. The last thing I want is for Bradley to be turned off because I'm a twenty-four-year-old virgin who has never fondled with a guy before. His lips curve into a gentle smile.

"That's okay," he says softly. "Just relax and feel. Follow my lead." I nod nervously, my heart racing. As he leans in again, his lips meet mine in a slow, deliberate kiss. It's different from before—less urgent, more exploratory. His tongue brushes against mine, and I tentatively respond, trying to match his rhythm.

God, he can kiss.

And his tongue... wow. He really knows how to use his tongue.

The thought of him using it elsewhere ignites the already roaring fire inside me. My skin feels like it's on fire. I'm ready to burst out of it any second, but I'm too lost in the moment to care. I squirm a little, squeezing my thighs together against his, which rests in between. His hands move back under my shirt, and he pauses, his eyes meeting mine. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," I breathe, my heart pounding in anticipation. "I trust you."

He continues to explore, his touch sending little tingles through me. "Tell me what you like, Amelia. I want to make you feel good."

I bite my lip, blushing a little. "I like everything you're doing."

"Good," he murmurs, his hands moving lower to grab hold of my thighs, placing them behind his back, so he's nestled in between me. My thighs grip him tightly as I urge him closer, my lips finding his. His hand slips back under my shirt and he pinches my nipple between his forefinger and thumb. A wet rush floods between my legs.

"Brad," I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "Oh, God…" I can feel his hard erection pressing into my stomach.

"You like that, Amelia?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. "You like me pinching your nipples? "

I flush at his crude question, but I nod quickly. "Yes."

I close my eyes, relishing in the feeling of being touched. Touched by a man. By Bradley .

In an instant, his warm breath hovers tantalisingly close over my left breast, and a soft gasp escapes my lips as he captures my nipple between his lips. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through me. My hips instinctively buck toward him, seeking more of that electrifying feeling.

"Oh… that feels… so good," I murmur breathlessly. Each flick of his tongue, each gentle suckle, builds a delicious tension that coils tighter within me.

A soft whimper escapes as Bradley moves to my other nipple, mirroring his actions with delicate precision—squeezing, swirling, and sucking. I can't help but squirm in his embrace, feeling overwhelmed by the sensation. With a pop , he releases my nipple, and I feel his lips trailing down my chest with slow, open-mouthed kisses.

My breath hitches as his tongue touches my navel, and a surge of nervous excitement floods through me as I realise where his kisses are leading—to the heated space between my thighs.

He pauses, his eyes meeting mine. "Have you—" he hesitates. "Have you orgasmed before?"

I shift uncomfortably, feeling my cheeks heat. "Uh, a few times, I think. Well, I've tried, but I'm not really sure what it's supposed to feel like."

His gaze softens, and he reaches out to touch my cheek gently. "Hey, no pressure," he reassures me, his voice calming. "We'll take it slow and figure out what feels good for you." Oh, God. Orgasm? In front of Bradley. What has my life come to?

"Can I pull these down?"

I swallow the nervous bubble in my throat. "Yes."

Bradley hooks his fingers into the waistband of my pants, and I hold my breath as he eases them down, exposing the delicate lace of my underwear to the cool air. It's not the chill that makes me shiver, but the intensity of his hungry gaze. With another gentle tug, he slides my underwear down, leaving me completely bare before him. His closeness is intoxicating as he leans in, placing soft, teasing kisses along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I tremble at his touch, anticipation coiling tight in my belly.

"Relax, sunshine," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "I'm going to make you feel so good."

I nod, unable to find my voice. His hand moves with purpose, brushing over my apex, and his thumb wastes no time finding my clit, circling it in tight, rhythmic motions. The sensation makes my back arch involuntarily.

"You're so responsive," he murmurs, his voice filled with admiration. "So perfect."

As Bradley continues to work his magic on my sensitive clit, he slowly slips a finger inside me. The sudden intrusion startles me, and a soft gasp slips from my lips, drawing his eyes up to meet mine.

The feeling is intense, a mix of pleasure and slight discomfort, but I push past it, craving more of his touch. I've touched myself before, but this is different—his touch is electrifying, filling me with a depth of sensation I've never known. The way he touches me, the way he looks at me, it's like he knows exactly what I need.

"Fuck. You're so fucking wet," he groans, his voice thick with need.