Casey Hopper has lived an interesting life, yet she never had any real complaints. Growing up without a mother and being raised by her single father until he meets someone new. Casey is forced to leave her home of Hawkins and her best friend Steve H...
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PINNED BETWEEN STEVE'S BODY and the pillowy cushion of his bed. One hand interlaced his fingers with Casey's while the other traced her body leaving a burning trail behind. He hooked his hand under her thigh, bringing it to a bent position. Bringing them even closer. Abandoning her lips, he moved to her neck, just below her ear. Her eyes fell shut as shallow breaths of ecstasy escaped her.
Casey wouldn't deny that she imagined this before. Daydreamed. It was a moment that she longed for, and it almost felt too good to be true. It was stupid and cliché, smiling because she was in Steve Harrington's bed. But it felt so good.
He shifted to her jawline, nipping—sucking. Her senses were erratic. Any rational thought had fled and was replaced with him. And only him. With her free hand, she began to roam his body, slipping her fingers underneath his t-shirt. Skin to skin, her hand slid upwards — slowly . She took her time. Noting every curve, the way his ribs expanded as he breathed in, how his chest rose and fell, the fast pace of his heart.
There was a wave of cold as his touch disappeared and her eyes opened. On his knees, he took the hem of his shirt in both hands and lifted it above his head. She drank in the sight before her like it was the first time and she squirmed with anticipation underneath him.
His eyes darkened as they trailed her physique, starting at her stomach then eventually meeting her gaze. She swallowed. His hands flexed and curled at his side as if he were restraining himself. And she was growing impatient. He lowered down, bracing himself with his elbows on either side of her head. Encasing her. Deep brown eyes captured her, "You're so beautiful." His lips hovered over hers—teasing. And she let him, for a few seconds, before taking control. Cupping the side of his face, she brought his lips to hers. His tongue slipped past the barrier as did his fingers as they gradually pushed up her shirt and she shuddered under his touch.
Then the phone rang.
Casey froze, so did Steve. Maybe it was an act of their imagination. But there it was again. Shrill ringing met their ears dampening the mood. It rang for the third time, and Casey had the thought of ignoring it. Steve did too, saying it aloud, "It's probably nothing."
The teen girl would have liked to believe that, except something in the back of her mind told her otherwise, "It could be my dad." He sighed, sitting up and Casey reached over bringing the phone to her ear, "Hello?"
"Jesus Christ, finally. I've called everywhere for you."
She propped up onto her elbows, brows furrowed, "Dustin?" Steve looked equally confused, mouthing the boy's last name to her. She nodded. "Is everything okay?"
