~F O S T E R~
Quinn's kiss is hungry, desperate, and heavenly. She's still got her hands clenched into fists around the collar of my shirt. I bring my hands up to either side of her face, pulling her closer. She moans into my mouth, and I do the same. I pull away slightly to bite her bottom lip, but the absence is too painful, so my lips go back to her own instantaneously.
~Q U I N N~
Jesus. How many wet dreams have I had about this exact situation? How many times has my hand slipped between my thighs in place of his?
Too fucking many.
Foster's hands move from their spots on either side of my face down to grip my waist. My hands slide down his body, admiring, marveling as they make their way to his hardened cock. His hips buck forward.
"So sensitive," I purr, then blush at my own boldness. It's like he becomes liquid beneath my touch. Clay for me to sculpt. I look up to him, and his face is on fire. A small smile graces my lips; I love the effect my words have in him.
It seems in that moment Foster decides to take back control of the situation. He lifts me from the desk, and my legs immediately wrap around his middle.
"See what you do to me?" He pants. "You drive me fucking crazy, everyday." He leans forward to press a kiss to my neck and my head falls back, giving him better access. He takes advantage as he continues talking, "You're all I can think about. All I want to think about. Ever." His words go straight to my throbbing core. I'm pretty sure I'm melting. No, I've already melted. He's everything I want, and for him to be saying such things to me, I just...
A moan breaks from my throat. I need to show him. I need to make him understand what he does to me, that the insanity is mutual. A fire sparks in my blood.
"You know what you do to me?" I ask.
"What?" He asks, wanting me to voice it.
I lean back towards him to whisper in his ear, giving my words the most effect, "Every hour of every day, I want you, Foster. I ache for you. And that desire is like a fire upon my skin. It's a fire I want to burn me, consume me, until there's nothing left of either of us."
The sound he makes is something between a moan, and a gasp. Like all the air has been taken from his lungs. He turns suddenly, and surges back toward the wall, pinning me there.
"Jesus, Quinn. You're torture." He gasps out, and latches onto my neck. I cry out, and cling to him like a life line.
"Please." I whisper. He looks to my eyes with such intensity that I'm sure if I wasn't pinned to a wall, my knees would have given out. His gaze holds a question. I nod my head, and he pushes into me with a deep, powerful thrust.
Foster gives me a moment to adjust around him before pulling out and ramming back into me. My moan is so loud I'm sure that they heard me in the cafeteria.
Every thrust is liquid gold. Heaven. Foster's head drops down onto my shoulder. He's whimpering. God damn it. I didn't think he'd be vocal, and I didn't prepare myself for the possibility he would be. If there was one single thing that had a most visceral reaction on my body, it would be male whimpering. The things I would let this boy do to me are unspeakable. The things I would like to do to this boy are unspeakable.
I feel the tell tale reaching of my peak build in my stomach, and every point, every fiber of my body narrows to where he touches me. His rhythm stutters, so I know he's close. Good. I don't think I could last much longer.
I say, "Foster, I'm close."
"Me too." He whispers, his voice a gravely pant. I whimper.
"Foster."
"Oh my god, Quinn."
We come with each others names on our lips.
He gently pulls out of me and plants a sweet, lingering kiss on my lips. We dress each other, and reorder the room.
We stride out of the school hand in hand.
