Lazy Lizzie

Nine

[This is where I went ahead and marked the story as mature, cause I was unsure of Wattpad guidelines and it's better to be too strict. That being said, I could then do my thing, and I'm happy with the scene. So, be warned, what started as a non-mature book is now one that asks for ID. Enjoy if you're 18+. One could skip it -- and the next -- and move on as there is no other adult theme, but the scenes are relevant to the plot so... Maybe my project isn't for everyone after all.]

Lizzie woke up faced with a Roman numerals sternum tattoo, her body fully encircled in thick arms. Worse, hers were all around him, like she'd dragged him over her, his upper body now pinning her down. Making an escape without waking him impossible. Intact dignity -- no longer an option.

She pushed against him to make some room for her disappearing act. Her legs were both under one of his, he also had an arm that held her in place, unmovable. Its palm squashed under her ass. The rest of his weight stood on top of her and her blood-drained arm.

She used her free hand to try to get him off her, going from gentle to moderate, but the moves she had to make to slowly separate made her mind go places she'd long decided to avoid. How it used to feel to have a man on top of her, way back, before Dale. She opened her eyes, to overwrite the memory with daylight.

It was late in the morning, the sun highlighted the trailer in all its depravity, painting it bright. Every speck of dust shone, warmed.

Lizzie also felt her insides getting warmer and warmer. It didn't help that Sleeping Beauty tensed, letting her know he was awake and could now feel her breasts poking his chest. She exhaled into his shoulder in defeated stillness, thankful she didn't have to make eye contact. Somehow sensing him calmly breathe into her skin was worse.

Contrary to what she'd expected from a guy who until then went out of his way not to touch her, his first reaction was to tighten his grip around her, so that he could better get on top of her. The hand that guarded her ass started grabbing it, pulling her even further into him as he shifted to better position himself over her. Meanwhile, her breath found a rhythm that signaled he should stop. Or hurry, as betrayed by how her arms went around him, on their own. Eyes closed, she willed herself to relax into the mattress. Leo was heavy, but it felt good not to have a way out, like it wasn't her choice, anyway. She had to feel the entire length of his back, even if only over his shirt, to verify for herself if he was as firm as advertised by the sharp line of his shoulders.

He passed with flying colors like he did all tests sprung on him in her failed Barracuda attempt to keep him away. Her lips followed the line of the immaculate neckline seam, curious to explore under its doubled thickness. A thought so strange that she went against it, her fingers slowing to press harder on areas of his back she knew were tattoo-covered, as if she could better imagine their design by touching the fabric that hid them. Daylight had brought a matte shade to his skin, a new grey instead of the warm brown she remembered, covered with hair that still smelled like that minty shampoo. She kissed the too-straight line that marked the end of his hair.

If Leo was hesitant before, her foray into how much she could taste of him without even attempting to move his clothes out of her way made him bite her collarbone. Even if soft, she jolted, he was pressing his lips too much into her, as both his hands ran underneath her makeshift nightdress. They stopped on her hips as if deciding what to do about the line of her underwear, while also keeping her in her place. She tended to move against him, and he had to keep her still, somehow. He guided her into a more steady rhythm, but it only made her thrust into him harder. His grip tightened and it hurt before it rushed the blood through her veins.

Her underwear went down her legs, their initial split-second resistance in leaving her exposed encouraging her to find his lips so that they'd at least kiss before he found out how wet she was. Leo responded by pushing through them, more demanding than she felt comfortable opposing to, her head deep into the pillow, sweat melting her hair with the antiallergic cotton. Not that she wasn't enjoying herself, now that she knew he liked to play with her tongue, chasing it in a circular motion that stopped only to tease her into responding more. She did, not remembering why she was scared at first.