“Pretty please?” Her words pull me back into this smoldering reality. The desire weighing me down is almost insufferable–almost. I love it when she begs me. She drags the tip of her nose against my clit. The contact is barely an airy impression, but it forces a strangled moan out of me. “Ashley?” She’s waiting on me, on the answer so plainly evident to both of us. God, I love Spencer’s loyal obedience. It’s exclusively reserved for these furtive occasions.

I clutch at a tight fistful of her hair, and yank her head back so that I can see her eyes. She winces but plasters a haughty smile over the grimace. “I wish your cheerleading squad could see you like this,” I growl. “Madison wouldn’t be too pleased, would she? If cavorting with the enemies can get you suspended from the squad, I wonder what your beloved captain would do if she knew you were fucking the enemy? Better yet, begging for permission to get me off with your mouth? Hm?”

Her smile grows wider. Her eyes are a hazy, lust drunk blue. They twinkle so prettily. “Can I?” is all she says.

I push her head between my legs in answer. She gives my clit wet, open mouthed kisses. Her tongue’s flicking and rubbing at my hard nub, and she’s softly sucking it between her lips. She moans and pants and I can feel every delectable vibration… It doesn’t take long for me to come. When I let her sit back up, her face is flushed and sticky. She leans over and gives me a kiss, a fleeting, teasing morsel. Spencer makes sure I’m watching as she licks my excess wetness off her lips. “Greedy girl,” I say, husky as anything.

It wasn’t always like this. We weren’t always like this. I’m not sure how it happened; I don’t know the exact coordinates of the residual twists and turns culminating in these controlled, impersonal fucks. The notion irks me enough to hurl the car around and drive her home. She’s as confused as I am when I pull up at her curb. “Ash?” she questions.

“Get out, Spencer.”

“But—“

“Get out.” I reach over and open the car door for her.

She stiffens, and I can tell the message has been received. She doesn’t look at me, not once, as she stumbles out the car, or tramples up the lawn, or unlocks her front door. I feel an unsettling emotion sprout in my guts, and then reverberate all the way up to my chest, where it chooses to wallow. I know I’ll be up for days, doing something I haven’t done in a long while–trying to dissect the very nature of Spencer and I.