Heterochromic Haze

10- Siren call

The next text I receive from Everett is just two days later but I jump at the chance of seeing him again. Of working on the sculpture again.

"Are you busy?"

Thats all it reads.

I reply almost embarrassingly fast.

"I'm free for you."

I smile stupidly at my phone, amused by my unashamed flirting. He never picks up on it, so at this point it really is just harmless fun. Or at least I think it is.

A knock sounds at my door about twenty minutes later and I sluggishly get up to answer it, wishing I had changed my cream joggers for something a little more appealing. I swing it open, my good humour falling away almost instantly.

It's the third time that I've found myself alone in my flat with Everett Hayes, and I know that this time I'm in big trouble.

He's wearing a white button down shirt, black trousers that fit him sinfully and a dark, determined expression that has me breathless with anticipation.

He takes his shirt off painfully slowly and I try and ignore it the best I can, determined to work on my sculpture. He sits, watching me with the eyes of a siren, luring me in and I'm helpless to resist.

I take my time positioning him, my fingers gliding over his skin with a feather light touch.

His breathing is heavy, his brow furrowed and I want to groan aloud. I cannot do this. Not right now.

I can keep this professional, I have to. Because if I don't..

I cast the thought from my mind, knowing deep down that it's already too late to save myself from the effects of this man. It was always only a matter of time, but it can't be today. I'm not finished.

With new found resolve I come round to face him, hovering just inches from his face as I turn his jaw, caressing the side of his face. His eyes trail over my lips, his tongue darting over his own as his breath mingles with mine.

I run my hands through his hair, freezing when he moans.

I clench my jaw, closing my eyes at the sound. Good god.

My other hand rakes through his hair, fisting around a small portion before tugging slowly. The second moan has me weak and I don't have the fight in me to resist the hands wrapping around my thighs, pulling me onto his lap.

I open my eyes to meet his gaze, our chests heaving at the electricity filling the space between us. His lips are just a breath from mine, his hands squeezing against my thighs and making me tight with anticipation.

My hands hold his head perfectly still, still wrapped up in his hair as he waits for my next move.

I don't kiss boys. I don't kiss anyone, never having really seen the point of it before but now, in this moment, the only thing I'm interested in is Everett Hayes lips. The perfect plumpness of them, the perfect curvature of his cupids bow and the colour, so rich and pink.

I tilt my head ever so slightly, our lips just brushing against each other as Everett exhales shakily. My hands loosen their grip on his hair for just a second, but that's all he needs.

His hand presses against my back, pulling me closer than I thought possible as his lips press against mine. They move in a clash of passions, and from here I can feel his heartbeat against mine, the scent of his throat invading me so that every sense is overwhelmed with Everett Everett Everett. And I don't mind.

I pull his hair back, desperately inhaling as he groans deeply. His teeth catch my bottom lip, pulling me back to him and I whine at the feeling. His hands settle on my hips, squeezing them as I grind into him.