The Strip

Part 3

Rebecca POV:

She leans into your space, pressing her lips against your neck and grinding her sex into your sweat slicked skin of your abs. Your dark blue shirt is wide open, bra off and tossed to the side of the white couch. Your pants are in a heap on the floor, accompanied by her dark blue bustier you ripped off earlier.

"Fuck, Rebecca, you're so hot," she whispers in your ear. Her lips trail hot, wet kisses along your neck.

Your eyes fall to the space between you and you watch with rapt attention as she slides her cunt against your skin. You squeeze the supple flesh of her ass in encouragement. Your eyes glance to the mirrors behind her and you enjoy the sight of scratch marks down her pale back.

The slickness between her thighs leaves a sheen against your abdominals, her teeth leave a mark on your neck as she bites down in her pleasure. You guide her hips to grind down harder, faster. She leans away from you to let out a dirty moan, nails digging into your shoulders.

Exposing her beautiful breasts, you suck a pert nipple in your mouth, lapping at the flesh as her hips start to stutter.

"Oh, fuck, baby, I'm gonna come -"

"Come for me," you whisper, squeezing her ass once. Her hips falter. You slide your hand to the front, slipping between your bodies. Your fingers are coated in her juices and sweat as you find the nub of her clit, engorged and ready for your touch.

You press against the bundle of nerves with a firm pressure. "Come for -"

- Amelia jolts you from your sleep with a splash of water on your face. "Wake up, Squirt."

The ill-timed nickname makes you clench your thighs together as you splutter to remove the liquid from your airways.

You cough, wiping your face of the excess moisture and fruitlessly trying to hold on to the dream.

"The fuck?" you grumble. Your head pounds, and your mouth tastes disgusting and you would much rather be asleep and continuing where you left off.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, wake up."

"What?" You snap.

"I'm hungry."

"Are you fucking serious?!"

"No. We need to leave soon." The end of the mattress dips. You know your sister won't leave until you agree.

You groan again, rolling over and pulling the comforter over your head. "Make up an excuse."

"I've done that the last four times. You have to come this time."

You sigh, defeated. You roll back onto your back and throw the covers off. Your eyes are still closed, your fists clenched and body stiff.

"So," Amelia clears her throat, and you open one eye to look at her. "Good dream?"

"Oh my God, fuck off!" You throw the closest thing you can reach - a pillow - at your sister's head. She laughs and bolts out the door, leaving you to flop back onto the sheets as she calls, "I'll give you a half hour to figure that out."

You groan again as your cheeks flush.

You stare at your ceiling, fists clenched at your sides for a full ten seconds. You're so wound up that the pounding in your head isn't enough to dull the throb between your legs.

It's one thing to have to ward off a hangover while dealing with your father, and something else completely to ward off lingering thoughts of the blonde while in his presence.