Having Mr Alcott

FIVE

Lizzie’s POV

I kissed him and quickly straddled his thighs. I needed the friction.

My hands fumbled, reaching for his belt, but he stopped me.

“Don’t do it, Bits,” he warned, his voice rough and throaty.

I felt the dampness in my thighs.

“I won’t be able to control myself,” he murmured against my lips before cursing softly.

“I want this, Reed,” I breathed out.

“Please.”

He shook his head, then turned us over so I was lying back on the couch. He tried to pull away, but I clung to him, crashing my lips against his.

The kiss was like fire, searing and intense. He kissed me back, sucking my bottom lip.

But I wanted more. I knew he was trying so hard to hold back.

I was Lizzie, his best friend’s kid. I didn’t want to be that anymore.

“Reed,” I whispered. “I need you.”

He looked into my eyes.

“This isn’t right,” he said, his voice strained.

“You’re... you’re John’s daughter.”

“I’m not a kid anymore,” I insisted, my hands cupping his face.

“I know what I want. And I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

He groaned.

“Damn it, Izzie,” he muttered before capturing my lips again.

His hands roamed over my body, sending blood pumping wherever he touched.

I arched into him, wanting to feel every inch of him against me. His mouth left a trail of wet kisses down my neck, and I embraced it.

I felt his hardness against my thigh, and I couldn’t hold back a moan. He hesitated, his breath ragged, his hungry eyes a shade darker and filled with pent-up lust.

“I’m not sure you want this,” he murmured.

“Yes,” I whispered, pulling him closer.

“I’m sure.”

It should have been embarrassing, but I didn’t feel that way in the slightest.

He captured my lips again, more fervently this time. His hands slid under my shirt, and I shivered. I arched into him, offering him every inch of my body.

He pulled back just long enough to lift my shirt over my head, tossing it aside before his lips found mine again. My hands explored the contours of his body, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath his shirt. I wanted to feel his skin against mine, to erase the distance between us.

For all I know, my dad could be dying and I was here.

I needed the distraction.

Reed’s kisses grew hungrier, more insistent, as if he were starving for me. He fumbled with the clasp of my bra, and I helped him. The bra fell away, and his hands were on my breasts, kneading and caressing.

“f*****g Christ,” he murmured against my skin, his lips trailing down my neck to my collarbone.

I shivered at his words, the walls of my core aching.

My fingers worked on his shirt, unbuttoning it as quickly as I could. He shrugged it off, and I marveled at the sight of his bare chest.

It was like I always imagined.

I ran my hands over his shoulders, down his chest, feeling the heat radiating from him. He leaned down, capturing a n****e in his mouth, and I moaned, my fingers threading through his hair. He moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention. He grazed his teeth over my n****e, causing me to gasp, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

I reached for his belt again, and this time he didn’t stop me.

My legs and hands worked, tugging his pants down. I felt his hardness in my hands, it was so hard, thick, and pulsing. My core clenched in response.

“You feel how hard I am for you, Bits,” Reed panted.

“You make me so hard.”

He pulled away slightly, and I almost cried out at the loss of contact. But then he was back, his hands sliding under my waistband, pulling my pants and underwear down in one swift motion. I kicked them off without a thought.

Reed's eyes darkened with lust as he scanned me, completely bare before him.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his hands roaming over my body.

“Every inch of you.”

He positioned himself between my legs, his hardness pressing against my entrance. He should have, but he didn’t.

“Fuck.” He groaned when I tried to kiss him.

“I can’t do this with you, Bits.”

“Please, don't stop," I whispered.

He cupped the back of my head, his rough fingers tangling in my hair.

He tugged on it, just enough to crane my neck and expose it.

His mouth met the bend of my neck, and then he kissed it.

Sucking lightly that it tingled.

One of his hands slid down, the tip of his fingers dipping into my folds, and then over my c**t. I gasped, my body arching into his touch.

“You want this, don't you?” he murmured against my skin.

“Yes,” I breathed out, trembling with need. “I want you.”

His fingers moved expertly, rubbing my c**t.

It was slow and deliberate

My hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his touch.

His mouth moved to my ear, his voice a low growl.

“You’re driving me crazy, Bits,” he said.

“You’re so wet for me.”

I moaned in response, unable to form any actual words. His fingers quickened their pace, building a delicious pressure inside me.

“Reed,” I whimpered. “Please...”

He pushed a finger inside me, then another, his thumb still working my c**t. The dual sensations sent me spiraling, and I cried out his name as pleasure surged through me.

Reed didn’t stop until I was a quivering mess beneath him.

“Ride my fingers,” he ordered.

And so I did. I rotated my hips against him. He added another finger, and I knew I was done for. My body was racked with pleasure, my walls clenching around him. If only his fingers could do this, how much more his c**k?

Holy s**t.

I squirted on his fingers, my body shaking tightly. I was trying to gather my breath when he brought his fingers to my lips. I licked them clean, my eyes locked on his. But his face was serious, jaw locked.

Didn’t we just have a good time?

“You happy?” he asked, his tone flat.

I blinked. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“This,” he gestured between us, “wasn’t supposed to happen. You know that, Izzie.”

I sat up.

“This won’t happen again,” he stated firmly.

“Get some rest, Izzie.” This time, he didn’t meet my eyes. He just dressed up and walked out.

I knew it was wrong. But I wanted it. I wanted him. And I didn’t feel sorry for doing something my dad would have killed him for.

Suddenly, Reed’s phone rang. It could be Mum, I thought, springing up and grabbing it from the coffee table. But it wasn’t Mum; it was someone named Irene.

Against my better judgment, I picked up the call and brought it to my ear.

“Babe, sorry I missed dinner. I should have updated you earlier,” a woman’s voice came through.