Little
Stalker
Erika
Pike
Blitz
– May 8th
Excerpt: 18 + Only
He flinches from my touch and backs into the wall, but I
follow and thread my fingers through that kitten-soft hair, pushing it aside to
see the fading bruise.
Who would do that to him?
As Grayson looks down with flushed skin, his cheek brushes
the inside of my palm. He jerks to a stop and holds his breath, just as I hold
mine.
Without thinking about it, I lay my palm further against his
skin, taking in the warm, soft feel of it. It’s like touching a girl...but
still different. His skin is smooth, but there’s a thin line along his jaw that
feels rougher, like a hint of stubble.
“Have you ever kissed a guy?” I ask in a low voice, shocking
both him and myself with my words. But instead of trying to reel them back, I
gaze down at his lowered face. Ray’s words this morning flash through my mind.
‘Just because you’d fuck him it wouldn't mean anything.’ I've been half horny
all morning...
He sucks in his lower lip and licks the upper one with the
tip of his tongue. It makes my whole groin twitch. The heat in my crotch is
almost painful and the rest of my body feels numb.
“Yeah,” he whispers, still looking down.
“What’s it like?” I ask, my voice low and a little thicker
than usual. “Is it different from kissing a girl?” It feels like there’s a
vibrating rock in the pit of my stomach and its sending shocks to my rapidly
beating heart. My fingers on his face tremble, and I’m breaking out in a sweat.
His gaze rises to meet mine, wide and pretty – eyes much too
large for his small face. He licks his lips again, cocking his head to the
side.
“ I've never kissed a girl,” he says in a low voice, chest
heaving rapidly, red lips half parted.
God...
Before I can even think to stop myself, I’m lowering my
head, my trembling lips touching his very, very lightly. It’s not enough to
determine if it’s different, but it feels soft and wet, and oh, he smells so
good. His hair is a little damp after the rain, but his own natural smell... I
touch my lips to his again, a little firmer this time, lingering, savoring the
wet, ticklish feel that sends all sorts of sparks through my body. My head
feels so light it’s like I’m not even in my own body anymore. Yeah, it
definitely feels different from kissing a girl; it feels unreal.
We kiss more, each touch experimental, hesitant. My fingers
barely touch his face and he trembles less than an inch from my arm.
When I pull back, I gaze in Grayson’s dazed eyes. They
mirror my own hazy brain. The warmth from his body is like a magnet, trying to
pull mine closer, and I gently position my hands on his hips. I lick my lips
and step closer.
He meets me halfway when I bend down to kiss him again,
sliding his arms up my torso to rest on my pectorals. He moans once, his mouth
opens for my tongue, and my knees go weak with all the fireworks shooting from
limb to limb. God, he feels so good. His tongue is thin, nimble, and so hot
against mine it burns. He grabs my shoulder when it feels like he’s about to
fall, and his other hand clasps the shirt on my back for support. I grab him,
holding on tightly as I kiss him with tongue twisting, teeth clashing
intensity, grazing his lips with my teeth and sucking on them. I hear myself
moan into his mouth and him echoing with added whimpers and sighs. He feels so
good.
I break away to rest my forehead against his, just to catch
my breath a little.
About Erica:
As a teen, Erica spent hours at a time lying in bed. Some would have called her lazy (though her very supportive parents never did), but she’d disagree. It’s not like she wasn't doing anything, she was busy daydreaming! You’d have thought the daydreams would lessen as she got older, but that wasn't the case. Since these are the kind of dreams that can’t really come true, Erica decided to make them come alive on paper.
She lives in Iceland with her adorable little twin boys, and is happy with what she has. She often says that her real name sounds like Klingon to foreigners. Seriously, if “Eyjafjallajokull” looks like someone fell asleep at the keyboard, Erica’s real name could leave a non-Icelander in a zombie-like stupor for days.
She’s been writing for several years, or ever since reading became an obsession. Aside from a business degree, Erica has taken English courses at the University of Iceland and gulped down anything that might help her in her career as an author. She takes great interest in English, but will break every single grammar rule for the sake of the voice.
Erica loves hearing from her readers. She’s a friendly, easy-going (if a bit silly) person who doesn't mind talking about herself in third person.
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