Crush

by West, Heather

  It was more than I could take; it was more than I could resist.

  My hands slipped lower down her hips, going to her thighs. Her skirt was already hiked up, thankfully, so it was easy for my hands to find their way underneath the material. I found her ass quickly and squeezed it tightly, pressing her down onto my lap.

  She gasped and I heard her murmur a quiet yes, driving me forward.

  I quickly realized that her pantyhose was going to be a problem. I was too impatient to take them off, to worry about doing things right, so I managed to pinch at the fabric, gathering enough of it between my fingers to tug at it. I heard the rip and she had to, too, but she did nothing to indicate that she had a problem with it. If anything, it seemed to turn her on more.

  The hole I made was right between her legs at the crotch, giving me access to her thin black panties. They were the next problem and were made more difficult because I hadn’t taken off her pantyhose properly, but I wasn’t worried about it.

  Fabric, especially that of panties, was surprisingly flimsy. I ripped them off her. The fabric tore and I tugged away the remnants of it, tossing them to the side, and when my hand came back, I found her mound to be smooth just as I’d always imagined it.

  I groaned as my hand slid between her thighs and found the slit of her pussy. She was wet. She was soaking wet and practically quivering with need. It was more than I could handle.

  Trusting her to keep her grip around my neck tight, unwilling to remove my hand from between her legs now that I’d finally found that sweet honey spot, my left hand moved from her ass to reach between us. I undid my belt and yanked down the zipper of my slacks quickly. I was grateful that I didn’t make a habit of wearing underwear because my cock sprung loose easily.

  I didn’t ask her if this was alright; I knew it wasn’t, just like I knew that she wanted it anyway. I finally moved my hand from between her legs—she made a whimpering, protesting sound that seemed to make my cock even harder—and gripped her hip to keep her steady, and to guide her. I moved her until she was positioned right over my dick and she helped me to settle her dripping core over my head. When I felt her hot lips sliding across it, I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I shoved her down onto my dick until I was completely encased in her tight warm flesh.

  She bit her lip to keep from crying out, arching her back and exposing her line of cleavage in the process.

  I wanted her tits out, I wanted her clothes off, but the feel of her lips wrapped around me was too good to bother with changing anything else. That is, other than who was on top. Lifting her up, my dick still buried inside her warm, willing body, I rolled us over, throwing her back onto the bed. I pressed down on her, my hips tight against hers, my entire length buried inside her. Reaching up, I managed to undo three buttons on her dress, just enough to open it up and reveal her bra beneath.

  I almost whined in frustration; all I wanted now were her damn tits exposed. My hands managed to get under the black fabric of her bra cups and yanked them down, finally showing her perky round orbs and the pink nipples that were already hard.

  Groaning, I started to move. I couldn’t take it slow or easy, couldn’t decide if I wanted to. I was too desperate to fuck her, too needy for her body, maybe the only chance I would ever get to have it.

  So I started driving into her like a damn jackhammer, pulling all the way out only to drive all the way home again, bottoming out inside her. She cried out once, biting her lip no longer enough to keep her quiet.

  Cursing, I quickly undid my tie, balled it up and shoved it into her mouth. I leaned down and whispered to her, “Sorry, babe. Wish I had your panties to shove into your sweet lips, but a tie will have to do.”

  I heard her whimper, her eyes reflecting my own white hot desire in them.

  I started thrusting again. She groaned and cried out against the tie as I slammed into her over and over again. Her body was so ready for me—and so very tight—that her natural lubricant had coated her bare thighs and was sliding along my skin, but I didn’t care. It just made me want to fuck her harder.

  Looking down at her, I saw her face flushed with desire and pleasure alike. Her lips were tinted a light red color, almost coral or pink, and wrapped around my tie so soft and sweet. Her hair was fanned out, a bright gold against that soft lavender comforter that had been her favorite as a kid. Her tits bounced as I bucked into her hard enough to make her childhood bed shake and tremble.

  I needed her more at that moment than I’d ever needed anything in my life and I wasn’t thinking as I felt my balls tightened, my release fast approaching. At least, I wasn’t thinking about much. I thought just enough to get one hand between our bodies, my thumb finding the little bundle of nerves that made her clench her thighs against my hips and throw her head back in pleasure as her tits road high.

  Oh, she looked good when she was being pleasured.

  I rubbed my thumb around her clit several times, each getting a quick jerk from her as she begged me with her eyes and muffled cries for more. When I pulled my hand away from her, she whimpered. That is, until I stuck my thumb in my mouth, sucking off her taste and getting some of my own spit to use as lubricant.

  When I brought my thumb back, slick with my saliva, she bucked against me again.

  “That’s it, baby,” I told her in a rough, raw voice. “I want you to come and I’m not going to stop until I get what I want.”

  I saw Ashley’s hands fist in her sheets as I drove my cock inside her again, groaning as I hit the very back of her. She was pulsing around me, jerking and clenching against my hardness as I flicked my thumb against her little bundle again and again.

  Now that I’d spoken, I couldn’t resist. “Touch your own tits, babe,” I told her suddenly, desire flashing on my face. “Squeeze ‘em.”

  She stared at me for a moment, bewildered by my command, but she did as I asked. When her hands went to her full, perky breasts, I groaned. When she gave them a squeeze, I gave her a hard thrust.

  Her eyes fluttered shut momentarily, but I wanted her to look at me.

  “Open your eyes.”

  She did. Staring me in the face, she squeezed her round orbs again. I slammed into her again.

  “Pinch your nipples.”

  Her delicate fingers moved to the small points on her breasts, the areolas the size of quarters and a dusty pink rose color. She rolled them between her forefingers and her thumbs right before she squeezed them. All the while, she watched me.

  I gritted my teeth, bucking my hips into her again and again, her tight walls sliding against the length of my dick until I thought I was ready to burst. I tried to hold back, though; I wasn’t ready to be done with her.

  “Tug on them,” I told her, licking my lips as I watched her.

  She did as I commanded, pinching her nipples and then tugging them away from her body before releasing them. The action made her tits jiggle and I groaned.

  “That’s it, baby,” I told her. “You’ve got such beautiful tits.” I slammed my dick into her again. “And a beautiful pussy.”

  She whimpered.

  “Hold on to your tits while I fuck you,” I commanded her and she obliged, wrapping her hands around her own soft flesh.

  I had to move faster, I had to be deeper inside her. I needed our bodies so close that they were the same goddamned thing. So I went as fast as I could, as deep as I could. I sucked my thumb once again then ran it over her clit. She jerked again and I could hear her muffled cries against the tie I’d stuffed in her mouth.

  Need bursting through me, I yanked it out so that I could lean down and plant a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss against her rosy lips.

  When we broke, gasping for air, she murmured against my mouth, “I want you so much. This is all I want.”

  Her words pushed me over some invisible edge and I lost my grip on reality. I could feel my release as I pulsed inside of her, buried as deep as I could go. Furiously I rubbed her clit, desperately needing to bring her to her own
end before I finished with mine. It didn’t take much to bring her own climax about.

  She cried out and I covered her mouth with mine to swallow up the sound. Her hands had left her breasts to wrap around my shoulders, clinging to me as our bodies pulsed and trembled, slick with sweat and our own fluids.

  For a moment, everything seemed right. Perfect, even. Just as it should be. But then the truth started to seep in. I watched her lying beneath me, her breasts exposed, her hair fanned out against her bedspread—a little girl’s bedspread—and her dress in disarray. I saw her ripped pantyhose and the point where our bodies joined, my cock softening slowly inside of her.

  I thought of my mom, buried today. I thought of my dad downstairs, more of a father than any man I’d ever known.

  And that’s when I realized what I’d just done.

  Panic swept through me like a storm. This was my sister. It didn’t matter that we weren’t related by blood or that the only taboo separating us was a marriage vow taken by our parents. We’d grown up together, at least in part, and hadn’t I loved her like a sister?

  But hadn’t I wanted her as something else, too?

  I didn’t know what to do, so I did the only thing I could think of; I bolted.

  I pulled out of her quickly and hurriedly tucked myself back in my pants, zipping up my fly. I saw Ashley still recovering, but she seemed to notice my sudden panic, because she sat up on the bed, bracing herself on her arms.

  “Danny?”

  Her voice ate me up inside, causing a whirlwind of emotions to fight their way through me. I wanted her; I still wanted her. But I wasn’t supposed to have her, not the one woman who I truly wanted. She’d been the best fuck of my life, I was sure of it, but this wasn’t supposed to happen. I couldn’t let it happen.

  Shaking my head, I let an apology tumble from my mouth, “I’m so sorry. I… I have to go.”

  And before she could say anything, I jerked open the door and all but ran down the hall. I took the steps two at a time, not lingering to talk to anyone, though several people tried to stop me and offer their condolences. My mother’s records were still playing from the living room and I saw several people dancing across the floor, happy because they were all so tired of being sad.

  I tried not to think of my mom or of my dad—Ashley’s dad—and what this sort of thing would mean to him. I tried not to think of anything as I made it out of the house. Vaguely, distantly, I heard Ashley’s voice calling out to me, but I couldn’t answer her.

  What was I supposed to even say?

  So I made a break for my car. By the time I brought it to life and was pulling out of the driveway, I caught a glimpse of Ashley. She’d buttoned up her dress and I couldn’t see the tears in her stockings beneath it, but I knew they were there.

  I drove home and didn’t answer when she tried calling my phone half a dozen times.

  I needed to think.

  Chapter Seven

  When I opened my eyes, the day seemed late and the sunlight was too bright, blurring my vision. My head pounded and my mouth was dry, as though cotton was shoved into it. I was hungover, I realized. It shouldn’t have been worse than the other night when I’d been drinking with dad and… and Danny, but maybe it was because I was upset and everything seemed like it had been going wrong lately.

  Groaning, I rolled over in bed and threw the pillow over my head, willing myself to go back to sleep. If I could just get a few more hours of peace to myself, maybe I could believe that things weren’t as bad as they seemed.

  My phone buzzed, however, and my eyes snapped open again. My hand jerked out, slapping at the bedside table wildly in an attempt to get to the phone as quickly as possible. Hope bloomed in my chest as I grabbed at it, answering it without even glancing at the caller ID.

  “Hello? Hello?” I was about to ask if it was Danny when I heard the voice on the other end.

  “Ashley?”

  It was a female voice. It sounded familiar, but maybe it was my half-asleep state or simply that I wasn’t used to the voice over the phone, but I couldn’t place who she was.

  “Um, yeah,” I answered uncertainly and a little deflated. After last night, well, I’d really been hoping that it was Danny trying to get ahold of me. “I’m sorry, but who is this?”

  The woman on the other end laughed. “Sorry! I figured it would’ve come up on caller ID. It’s Cindy.”

  “Oh! Cindy! Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t even check the ID before I answered. You sound so different over the phone.”

  “Yeah, it makes me sound like a little girl. I hate it.”

  I could imagine her wrinkling her nose in irritation, her cute little face scrunching up and I almost told her that she looked like a little girl, too. I laughed into the phone. “Kinda.”

  “Anyway, I called to see if we were still on for this weekend?”

  I cringed. I had completely forgotten that this weekend was a special girl’s night out. Cindy had recently broken up with her boyfriend—a real jerk who had cheated on her half a dozen times with half a dozen girls and had tried more than once to get into my pants—and she was in desperate ‘no boys allowed’ time.

  Sighing, I shook my head. When that caused my headache to get worse, I stopped and answered her. “I’m sorry Cindy,” I began, feeling guilty already though I knew I couldn’t go back yet. Not now. I told myself it was because Selene, my wonderful stepmother, had just died and we’d only buried her yesterday, but that wasn’t entirely true. Honestly, I couldn’t leave because of Danny.

  Heat flushed my cheeks as I thought of him. What we’d done last night… it was probably wrong—no, scratch that, it was definitely wrong—but I’d been dreaming about it since I was, at least, fifteen and now that it had happened, I couldn’t let it go. Things were changing between us, or maybe it was just that we were finally acknowledging what had always been there. Either way, I wanted to see it through.

  “You’re not coming?” She sounded dejected and a little upset.

  I winced. I hated to make her feel bad and the guilt was worse because I knew that the excuse I was going to give her wasn’t about Selene at all, but my own strange, inappropriate desires. Still, I knew that after last night, I couldn’t just walk away.

  “I really am sorry,” I told her, putting as much regret into my tone as I could muster. “I was going to tell you before I left, but it all ended up happening a lot faster than I thought it would and I was on a plane before I knew it.”

  There was a pause. “A plane? Where the hell are you Ash?”

  “Um, back in Wisconsin actually.”

  “Wisconsin! What are you doing there?”

  “My stepmom just died.” My throat felt as though it were trying to close up on me and I realized that even though I’d laid my stepmom to rest yesterday, I hadn’t even begun to deal with the grief that was the direct result of her death. I didn’t even want to think about how dad was doing—or Danny—and as soon as I thought about it, I knew that my decision to stay here was the right one, regardless of the actual motivations behind it.

  “Oh my god Ash!” Cindy exclaimed, her voice more expressive than before and it was dripping with concern and remorse. “I’m so sorry, honey! I had no idea! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Swallowing down my sadness, I forced myself to really sit up in bed, instead of just lying there, so that I could have this conversation with one of my best friends. We’d become close while working together at the bar and Cindy understood that my family, though pieced together from two other families, was very important to me. “I didn’t tell anyone. When she passed, I just got on a plane and flew out here to be with my dad and—” I hesitated, feeling a strange mixture of embarrassment and sadness and desire sweep through me, “Danny. It’s been really hard for everyone.”

  “I’m sure,” Cindy answered sympathetically. “How is your dad? And your brother, it was his real mom, wasn’t it?”

  I swallowed. I wanted to tell her that he wasn’t technically my
brother, that we weren’t related by blood, but that was silly and definitely not what this conversation was about. More than that, she was perceptive enough that if I said that, she would definitely know that was something was up.

  So I pushed the urge down and said, “They’re both hanging in there. Dad’s kind of a wreck, but that’s why I’m here. Hopefully, I can help him pull it together.”

  “And your brother?” she prompted again.

  I bit my lip. Part of me wanted to correct her, that he wasn’t my brother, because if he was then what we’d done last night was most definitely wrong. The kind of wrong that used to get people killed and nowadays was just morally reprehensible. I wanted to talk to her about what had happened between us and the swirling feelings inside my chest, but I couldn’t.