Our kiss started with passion, but rather than blow up, it slowed down. He eased me back and stared down into my eyes, contemplating on what he wanted to say.
"You don't have to talk about it," he said softly, "but we should."
Fuck you, Riley.
I cringed at the memory and tore my gaze away from Anthony, staring over his shoulder to the bed, and beyond the doorway to his bathroom. I couldn't avoid it forever; I'd eventually deal with the Peyton situation and whatever it was Anthony and I were doing, but I didn't want to face it tonight.
"Fine." My shoulder shrugged. "Can I have a drink first?"
He nodded. "Wine, beer..." He remembered I was twenty, only a few months away from being twenty-one so it wasn't a legal age to drink but this was stupid. He knew college kids drank, and he let us do it at his house as long as we were responsible.
I wanted Anthony to see me as an adult, even if I wasn't exactly acting like one. "Wine would be great. Thank you."
"Okay. I'll be right back."
Anthony was barely through the door when I took the bag and went to the bathroom. Coming here had been crazy. Grabbing him and kissing him was crazier, but I was about to do something so insane, it might blow up in my face. As I stripped off my t-shirt, I didn't look at myself in the mirror. I was sure I'd look back on this moment and feel guilty, but I pushed forward anyway.
My hands were shaky as I undid the buttons of my shorts, and I quickly slid the dress on. At least it still fit.
I lifted my head and stared at my reflection. My hair didn't look too bad. I pulled it up into a slick ponytail before coming here, but a few strands curled softly behind my neck.
I put makeup on too, but I could have skipped the blush. My cheeks were flushed pink, and as I blinked at my wide-eyed image in the mirror, I saw how quickly my chest was rising and falling. Nerves churned in my stomach. Was I about to make a fool out of my myself?
Footsteps grew louder beyond the closed bathroom door, and I heard Anthony's voice. "Riley?"
"Just a sec." Hopefully, he couldn't hear how breathless I sounded.
It wasn't too thick or too thin but I felt like it was an additional hundred pounds weighing me down.
I pulled the door open and stayed quiet when I entered back into the bedroom. In fact, everything was dead fucking silent when Anthony's dark brown eyes turned toward me.
He didn't blink. He stood motionless, a glass of red wine in each hand. His gaze was locked on mine, but I somehow felt it all over my body.
"This dress is..." I gulped. "is the one you said that made you think bad things."
"Jesus, I remember." His eyes were so wide, it had to hurt.
He just stood there silent, making everything uncomfortable. God this was an awful idea.
"Is that uh, for me?"
"It was," he said.
"I'm sorry. This was so stupid. I'll change."
"No." His eyes darkened and focused with intensity and... shit, he looked mad, like wearing this dress pissed him off.
"What was the plan?" he might have looked pissed, but his voice wasn't cold or angry.
"Why are you wearing this?"
"Because of what you said," I looked down at my bare feet, unable to look at him.
"So, you wanted to give me bad thoughts?" he grasped my chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing my attention up to his face. "Because it's fucking working."
His lips crashed into mine, owning me like I was his. It was punishing and dominating. He claimed me exactly how I wanted. I rose on my toes to get closer, only to find myself stumbling backward, in surprise.
He'd pushed me away so he could sit on the edge of the bed, and his gaze trapped me in place. "Go on, then. Show me."
"What are you wearing under your dress."
I moved backwards until the dresser was at my back, giving me leverage to lean against for support. As I balled the dress into my fists, I stared at the man across from me.
He took a sip of his wine, turning his head to the side so he could hold my gaze. Like he didn't want to break the connection with me, not even for a split second. I dragged the fabric up my hips, revealing inch after inch of my care skin.
He'd seen me naked before, but it didn't matter. It was all still new. A different kind of first.
The dresser creaked as I put more weight on it and lifted the dress to show him the black satin underwear. His eyes heated, and I felt like I'd melt beneath them.
"Show me." his command was rushed and uneven. "Show me what you do when you're thinking about me."
"Put your hand between your legs."
Anthony stood, went to the nightstand, and put his glass of wine down. As he moved back to his spot on the edge of the bed, he unzipped his jeans. "This is what I did last time you had that dress on."
I felt sweat run down the back of my neck as I watched him begin to stroke himself.
"It's what I do every time I'm not with you."
He worked his jeans to sit low across hips and pulled down the waistband of his boxer briefs The slow, deliberate slid of his hard dick though his closed fist was sexy and hypnotic. I couldn't stop staring.
"Show me," he commanded again. "You put on that dress, so I'm not the only one with bad thoughts.
The hotness of his order had me shaking against the dresser. I stared at the glide of his hand over himself, each pass making him harder and bigger. A dull ache burned inside me, and I felt myself get wet between my legs.
The dress was supposed to make me feel powerful, yet I was powerless to stop the moan that seeped from my lips, or the way my hands clawed at the top, lifting it up higher.
Anthony's face was filled with lust. His shoulders lifted in a deep breath as I buried my hand beneath my underwear and stroked my sensitive skin. When I was alone, touching myself felt good, but it wasn't close to the same when he watched me do it.
"Look at you teasing me like this. You're so bad. You know that, don't you?"
"You're a bad girl.
"Yes," I gasped. I was.
I was eager to show him. I moved so fast, he didn't have time to react. I dropped to my knees in front of him, putting my hands on his thighs, and moved my hands up to join his hand.
Anthony moved his hand and slipped it gently around the back of my neck. He didn't force me forward or down. It rested on the back of my neck, and his warm fingers felt so good. I closed my eyes, parted my lips, and lowered my mouth over him.
He was soft, yet strong against my tongue. I moved cautiously, trying to take him deep, but he was large and thick. So impossibly thick, and the heat between my legs flared hotter. I wanted him so bad, but as soon as I started, I longed for him to be inside me.
He wound his hand around my head, picking up the pace. His knees spread wider, but since his pants weren't down, his undone zipper scraped over my chin, and I pulled back.
Good god, his eyes. They were dark and gorgeous.