Boys Like Him

Sensual exploration

The bathroom tiles bit cold into my bare feet as I twisted the shower knob all the way to the left.

Ice-cold water exploded down, slamming against my skin. I gasped sharply, the shock stealing my breath as it pounded over my head, streamed through my hair, raced in freezing rivers down my neck, over my shoulders, tracing the curve of my spine, and slipping between the cheeks of my ass.

I braced both palms against the slick wall, head bowed, letting the chill punish me.

But the second I closed my eyes, he was there.

The car. His thumb stroked my jaw. That heartbeat of space before he closed it.

And then the kiss, f**k, the kiss.

It crashed over me hotter than the water ever could. His mouth on mine, firm and patient, waiting for me to open like he already knew I would. My lips parting on instinct, tongue brushing his before my brain caught up. The slow, filthy drag of it, the way he sucked gently at my bottom lip, then grazed it with teeth hard enough to make my c**t throb in answer.

My n*****s pebbled tight and aching under the cold spray, but the heat pooling low in my belly had nothing to do with temperature. It was him. All of him.

I shifted, pressing my thighs together, and felt the slick proof of it, how wet I still was, how swollen and needy he'd left me with one goddamn kiss.

A frustrated whimper slipped out of me. I could still feel the phantom grip of his fingers in my hair, tilting me exactly how he wanted.

My hand drifted upward on its own, fingers brushing the tight peaks of my n*****s. I pinched one lightly, and a jolt shot straight to my core. My breath stuttered.

I could almost feel his hand sliding from my neck down to cup my breast, thumb rolling over the n****e exactly like this.

A low, broken whimper escaped me, embarrassingly soft and needy.

In the rush of water, his voice slithered into my head so vividly it felt like he was pressed against my back.

"Relax, baby... let go."

My breath hitched.

The conjured Lloyd stepped closer, chest to my spine.

"Just feel it."

I didn't even register my hand sliding down until my fingers parted my soaked folds. The cold water made every touch electric. I circled my c**t, and my hips jerked forward.

"Lloyd..."

His name fell out like a confession.

In my mind, he groaned low against my neck, teeth grazing my skin. "That's it... touch yourself for me. Show me how wet you got from one kiss."

A moan tore from my throat, loud, wrecked, nothing like the quiet girl I pretended to be.

My fingers slipped inside me, two at once, stretching, filling, while my thumb worked my c**t in tight, frantic circles. I imagined his hand replacing mine, thick fingers curling deep, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids. His other hand was gripping my hip, pulling me back against him, grinding his c**k against me while he whispered filthy praise in my ear. I bit my lip to trap the moan, but it escaped anyway.

I pressed harder, hips rocking into my own hand, chasing the ache he'd started.

A shaky breath turned into a soft, filthy whine. "Fuck..."

Water streamed over my breasts, down my stomach, mixing with the wetness dripping down my thighs. I f****d myself faster, palm grinding against my c**t, thighs trembling as the pressure coiled tighter and tighter.

"Such a good girl... so f*****g wet for me. Come on, Nyelle, come all over my fingers."

The fantasy broke me.

My whole body clenched hard. My knees buckled, hitting the tile with a wet slap. I cried out his name again as the o****m ripped through me like fire. My p***y pulsed around my fingers, slick and dripping down my thighs, mixing with the water. Wave after wave crashed, leaving me shaking.

The water kept pouring, cooling the fever on my skin, but the echoes stayed.

I stayed there on the floor, chest heaving, thighs trembling.

God.

I hated this.

I hated that my body betrayed me before my brain could scream no.

I hated that right now, in this freezing shower, I wasn't thinking about boundaries, anger, or fear, just the filthy, perfect way his mouth had claimed mine.

I'd come harder thinking about him than I ever had with anyone else.

I pressed my forehead to my knee, chest heaving in ragged bursts.

God.

What was he doing to me?

What the f**k was I doing to myself?

I stood there for a moment, chest rising too fast, my thighs still shaking with little aftershocks I couldn't stop. My hand was still between my legs, suddenly foreign.

The second I realized that, a slow, mortifying awareness crept up my spine and bloomed hot across my cheeks.

"Oh my God..." I breathed as if I could hide from the fact that this was my body that I had just done that.

I pressed my forearm to my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut.

My mind, which had gone deliciously quiet while my body took over, suddenly roared back to life. It replayed everything in vivid detail, the way I arched, the way I gasped, the way I imagined his hand guiding mine as if he were behind me, whispering in my ear.

God.

Why him?

Heat prickled down my neck.

What kind of girl thinks about a boy like that after she runs from his kiss?

What kind of girl touches herself for the first time... the first time ever, and does it thinking of the same boy she panicked and fled from?

I felt so stupid I could barely breathe.

A broken little laugh escaped me. My hair slid over my shoulders in a messy curtain as I shook my head.

"Why did I do that?" I whispered to the empty room.

But my body... traitorous, warm, still humming... answered before my mind could shut it up.

Because it felt good, thinking of him felt good, and the way he kissed me, even if I freaked out, had burned itself into me.

I groaned softly, burying my face in my hands.

I hugged my knees tighter, pressing my forehead to them as the emotions tore through me, humiliation on one side, the ghost of pleasure on the other, and I didn’t know which one terrified me more.

I shut the shower off and stepped onto the mat, toes curling against the soft cotton. My hands shook a little as I reached for my towel.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and immediately wished I hadn’t. My lips were swollen. My neck was flushed, and my eyes had that hazy, post-something look that made my stomach twist.

My breath stuttered, humiliation pricking down my arms like tiny needles.

I pushed the bathroom door open and slipped into my room, keeping the towel tight around me like it could block out the memory pulsing behind my ribs. I sat on the edge of my bed, the sheets cool against the back of my thighs, grounding me just enough to stop my thoughts from spinning.

I dried myself quickly, pulled on a soft cotton tee and shorts, and tried to pretend my skin didn’t still remember the shape of my own hand. I grabbed my dirty laundry and shoved it into the hamper. Picked up my textbooks from the floor. Straightened the pillows.

Anything to drown out the echo of my own moans still clinging to the air.

Eventually, I dropped into my desk chair, pulling my planner toward me. I needed something normal, something that didn’t feel like my entire world was now a spotlight shining on the inside of my head.

Check on Mom and Dad this week.

I wrote it slowly.

But the minute I put my pen down, the image returned, my back against cold tile, my fingers moving in ways they’d never moved before, his voice in my mind telling me what to do.

I pressed my thighs together instinctively and immediately forced them apart.

“Stop it,” I whispered.

As if my body would listen to my brain.

My phone buzzed.

Mariah’s face popped onto the screen when I answered. “Okay,” she stated, squinting at me, “you look weird. What happened?”

I blinked at her. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

I sighed, dragging the blanket over my lap like it could shield me from her eyes. “He… kissed me on the ride home.”

Mariah almost swallowed her gum. “LLOYD LUXEN KISSED YOU?!”

“Mariah…”

“In the CAR?! On the MOUTH?!”

“Do you want every detail, or do you just want to scream at me?”

“Both!”

Despite the humiliation tightening my throat, a small laugh slipped out. “I panicked,” I admitted softly. “I told him to stop the car.”

“And then what? Did you slap him? Did you jump out? Did you black out?”

“I ran.”

“Nyelle.” Her voice softened. “Sweetheart.”

I stared at a crease on my blanket. “I didn’t know what to do. My brain just… shut down.”

She didn’t judge me. She never did.

But she watched me closely, like she could see the storm still moving behind my eyes.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

I hesitated, then nodded. Or tried to. “I will be.”

I hung up and lay back on my pillow, staring at the soft glow of my lamp against the ceiling.

I didn’t want to think about the kiss.

Or what I did in the bathroom afterward.

But both thoughts kept pushing up against each other until my eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion pulling me under.

Somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, the truth hummed low in my chest.

I wish this day had never happened.

And I wished I could live it again.

At the same time.