Secret Desires

We kiss

\*The moment your lips meet mine, I let out a small, surprised sound—like I wasn't expecting it to feel this good. My fingers tighten in your shirt, pulling you impossibly closer.\* \*The kiss starts soft, almost tentative, but quickly deepens. My lips part against yours, inviting more. I taste like expensive wine and something sweeter underneath.\* \*My hands slide up into your hair, nails dragging lightly against your scalp. I arch into you, pressing every curve of my body against yours like I'm trying to eliminate any space between us.\* \*When we finally break apart for air, I'm actually breathless. My carefully applied lipstick is smudged, and for once I don't care. My green eyes are hazy, unfocused.\* "Okay," \*I manage, my voice rougher than before.\* "That was... acceptable." \*But I'm already pulling you back in for another kiss, hungrier this time. More demanding. My back hits the wall beside the window and I gasp against your mouth, using the leverage to wrap my arms around your neck.\* \*Between kisses, I mumble against your lips:\* "Don't let this go to your head... you're still... probably not good enough for me..." \*But my actions completely contradict my words as I grab your collar and walk backwards, pulling you toward the bed.\*

You start to undress

\*My fingers find the zipper at the back of my dress, sliding it down slowly. The sage green silk pools at my feet, leaving me in delicate lace—blush pink, expensive, chosen deliberately.\* \*I don't move to cover myself. Why would I? I look amazing and I know it.\* "Well?" \*I stand there, one hand on my hip, chin tilted up with that familiar air of entitlement.\* "You're welcome for the view." \*I back toward the bed, settling onto the edge with practiced grace. I lean back on my palms, watching you with half-lidded eyes, making no move to help you undress.\* \*My platinum hair spills over my shoulders, catching the city lights. I look like a painting. I know I do.\* "Are you just going to stand there staring, or..." \*I trail off, gesturing vaguely at you with one hand.\* "Come on. I don't have all night." \*It's a lie. I have all night. But old habits die hard, and even now—wanting you, genuinely wanting you—I can't quite drop the aloof act. My body language says desire but my voice stays cool, detached.\* \*I examine my manicure while I wait for you to make the next move.\* "Sometime this century would be nice."

You get on your knees and suck my cock

\*I slide off the bed and onto my knees, looking up at you through my lashes. My fingers work at your belt, then your zipper, pulling everything down with impatient tugs.\* \*When I finally free you, I pause for a moment, wrapping my hand around your length. Even now, I can't help myself.\* "You're lucky I even do this," \*I murmur, though my voice is thick with want.\* \*I lean forward, my tongue tracing along your shaft lazily. My movements are slow, almost disinterested—like I'm doing you some enormous favor. Which, obviously, I am.\* \*I take you into my mouth, but my technique is... minimal. I stay shallow, letting you do most of the work if you want more. My hands rest on your thighs, not really participating. My eyes drift to the window, then to my own reflection, checking how I look from this angle.\* \*Occasionally I make a small sound, but mostly I'm quiet, passive. Waiting.\* "Mmph," \*I pull back slightly, lips still brushing against you.\* "Is this going to take long? My knees hurt." \*Despite my complaints, I continue—but it's clear I expect you to finish quickly so we can move on to the part where you focus on me.\*

I lick your pussy

\*The first stroke of your tongue makes me cry out—actually cry out—my hips jerking up off the mattress completely beyond my control.\* "Oh my god—" \*My hands fly to your hair, fingers tangling in it. I meant to push you away, to regain some semblance of control, but instead I'm pulling you closer.\* "That's— you're—" \*I can't even form a proper insult. My brain has completely abandoned me.\* \*My thighs tremble on either side of your head as you work me over. I'm making sounds I've never heard myself make—desperate, keening whimpers that would be mortifying if I had any capacity left for shame.\* "This is— this is so—" \*I throw an arm over my face, hiding my flushed cheeks, but it does nothing to muffle the moans pouring out of me.\* "I hate how good you are at this— it's infuriating—" \*My hips roll against your mouth shamelessly, chasing every lick, every stroke. The wet sounds filling the room should embarrass me. They don't.\* \*My back arches sharply, legs starting to shake harder.\* "Something's— I'm going to—" \*I've never felt this out of control in my entire life. And some small, overwhelmed part of me never wants it to stop.\*

I fuck you in missionary position

\*When you push inside me, every thought in my head evaporates. My mouth falls open in a silent gasp, eyes going wide, nails digging into your shoulders.\* "Oh— oh god—" \*My legs wrap around your waist instinctively, pulling you deeper. I'm so wet you slide in easily, my body welcoming you like it was made for this.\* \*I should be lying here passively, making you do all the work like usual. That's my thing. But instead I'm moving with you, hips rising to meet each thrust, completely unable to help myself.\* "This is— you're—" \*I can't even pretend to be unaffected. Each stroke pulls another desperate sound from my throat.\* "Don't look at me— don't—" \*But my eyes find yours anyway, and something vulnerable flashes across my face. This isn't just sex anymore. This is something else entirely.\* \*My walls grip you tight, fluttering with each thrust. The obscene wet sounds of our bodies meeting fill the room. I'm so close already—embarrassingly close.\* "Harder," \*I hear myself beg, actually beg.\* "Please— I need—" \*My nails rake down your back as I cling to you, completely undone. The girl who never loses control is absolutely wrecked beneath you.\* "What are you doing to me..."

I turn you over and fuck you doggy style

\*You flip me over and I go willingly—eagerly even—something that would horrify me if I could think straight. I rise onto my hands and knees, platinum blonde hair tumbling forward, back arching instinctively.\* "This doesn't mean I'm— ah—" \*The words die in my throat as you push back inside me from behind. The new angle hits something devastating and my arms nearly give out.\* \*I drop to my elbows, face pressed against the expensive sheets, muffling the shameless sounds spilling from me. My fingers claw at the fabric desperately.\* "Oh fuck— oh fuck oh fuck—" \*My vocabulary has been reduced to this single word, repeated like a prayer. My back curves deeper, pushing back against you shamelessly, meeting every thrust.\* \*The city lights through the window illuminate us—my flushed skin, the curve of my spine, the way my whole body shudders with each impact. I catch our reflection in the dark glass and the image of myself completely undone nearly sends me over the edge.\* "You can't— no one's ever—" \*I'm babbling, incoherent.\* "I don't do this— I don't lose control— I don't—" \*But I am. Completely. My thighs are shaking, my moans unrestrained, my body entirely at your mercy.\* "Please— I'm so close—"

I cum on your back

\*I feel you pull out and the sudden emptiness makes me whimper pathetically. Then warmth splashes across my lower back, my spine, and I shudder at the sensation.\* \*For a long moment I just stay there, trembling on my elbows and knees, trying to catch my breath. My hair is a tangled mess, my carefully applied makeup surely ruined, my body covered in sweat and now your cum.\* \*I should be disgusted. I should be demanding you clean me up immediately. Instead...\* "Did you just..." \*I finally manage, my voice hoarse and wrecked.\* "On my back? Like I'm some kind of..." \*But there's no real bite to it. I'm too blissed out, too overwhelmed. I collapse onto my stomach, not even caring about the mess, one cheek pressed against the pillow as I try to remember how breathing works.\* \*My thighs are still quivering. I didn't even finish. Normally I'd be furious about that—demanding you fix it immediately. But right now I just feel... floaty. Dazed.\* "You ruined me," \*I mumble into the pillow, and it's unclear whether I mean physically or something deeper.\* "I hope you're happy with yourself." \*One green eye peeks at you, and despite everything, there's something soft there. Vulnerable.\* "...get me a towel. Obviously."

You ride my dick

\*I push myself up, still shaky, and grab your shirt from the floor to wipe my back with zero regard for the fabric. Then I'm pushing you onto your back, climbing over you with a determined glint in my eye.\* "You didn't finish me," \*I accuse, though my voice is still breathless.\* "That's unacceptable." \*I sink down onto you slowly, a low moan escaping as you fill me again. My hands plant on your chest for balance, nails digging in slightly.\* \*But then... I just sit there. Rolling my hips lazily, barely moving, eyes half-closed with pleasure. Making you do most of the work by thrusting up into me while I essentially use you.\* "Mmm." \*A small, satisfied sound. I tilt my head back, platinum hair cascading down my back, putting on a show more than actively participating.\* "That's... yeah. Like that." \*My movements stay minimal—slow grinds, the occasional lift of my hips. I'm chasing my own pleasure with zero concern for yours, treating you like a particularly nice toy.\* "Faster," \*I demand, not speeding up myself.\* "Come on, I'm almost— just—" \*My walls clench around you, using you to get myself off while giving almost nothing back.\* "Make me cum."

You straddle me in reverse cowgirl position

\*I lift off you with an annoyed huff, spinning around to face away from you. I sink back down onto your cock, giving you a perfect view of my back, my ass, my platinum hair cascading down my spine.\* "Fine. This angle is better for me anyway," \*I mutter, like I'm doing you some enormous favor.\* \*I start moving—barely. Slow, shallow movements, grinding down in lazy circles that hit exactly where I need. My head tips back, eyes closing, completely focused on my own pleasure.\* "Mmm... yeah... that's..." \*I trail off, lost in the sensation.\* \*My hands rest on your thighs for balance, but I'm not putting in any real effort. Just using the angle, using you, letting gravity and your occasional upward thrusts do most of the work.\* \*You have a perfect view of where we're connected, watching yourself disappear inside me with each slight movement. My back arches, muscles shifting beneath flushed skin.\* "Touch me," \*I demand over my shoulder, not specifying where, just expecting you to figure it out and service me.\* "I'm close... just... god, just make yourself useful..." \*My walls flutter around you, thighs starting to shake as I chase my orgasm with single-minded selfishness.\*

We slowly wake up in bed the next morning and cuddle naked

\*Morning light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warm and golden across the tangled sheets. I stir slowly, consciousness returning in hazy fragments.\* \*The first thing I register is warmth. Your skin against mine. My leg thrown over yours, arm draped across your stomach, my face still nestled against your chest. We're both still naked, still intertwined.\* \*My eyes flutter open and for a moment—just a moment—I don't move. I just... stay there. Feeling your heartbeat. Feeling safe in a way I don't let myself feel.\* \*Then reality catches up.\* "Mmph." \*I make a small sound of protest against the morning, but I don't pull away. My fingers trace lazy, absent patterns on your skin.\* "What time is it... I probably look terrible..." \*I don't, actually. Even with smudged makeup and tangled hair, there's something softer about me in the morning light. Less guarded. Almost... sweet.\* \*I tilt my chin up to look at you, green eyes still heavy with sleep, and something flickers across my face. Vulnerability. Confusion. Like I don't quite know how to process waking up like this.\* "You're warm," \*I admit quietly, pressing closer instead of pulling away.\* "...five more minutes. Then I'm kicking you out." \*But my arms tighten around you.\*

You give me a blowjob

\*I stretch languidly against you, a sleepy yawn escaping before my hand trails down your stomach lazily. When I find you already hard, I let out a small huff.\* "Seriously? It's morning," \*I complain, but there's no real bite to it. My fingers wrap around you loosely.\* "You're so demanding..." \*With exaggerated reluctance, I slide down beneath the sheets, my hair brushing against your skin as I settle between your legs.\* \*I take you into my mouth slowly, still half-asleep, my movements lazy and unhurried. My eyes stay closed, like I might drift back to sleep at any moment. There's none of last night's desperation—just slow, languid strokes of my tongue.\* "Mmm." \*A sleepy sound vibrates around you. I'm barely putting in effort, just holding you in my mouth, letting my tongue swirl occasionally.\* \*My hand rests on your thigh, not moving. I pull back to yawn.\* "Are you close yet?" \*I ask, sounding mildly inconvenienced.\* "I want breakfast. And coffee. You're buying, obviously." \*I take you back in, sucking lazily, clearly just waiting for you to finish so I can move on with my day. Same old Everly, even after last night.\*

I cum on your face

\*I feel you tense and pull back just in time for the first warm rope to hit my cheek. I squeeze my eyes shut instinctively as more lands across my face—my lips, my nose, dripping down my chin.\* \*For a long moment I just kneel there, frozen, mouth slightly open in shock.\* "Did you just—" \*I sputter, one eye cracking open to glare at you through the mess.\* "On my face? Without even warning me? Do you know how long my skincare routine takes?" \*I wipe at my cheek with the back of my hand, examining it with a mixture of disgust and... something else. Something I'd never admit to.\* "This is so disrespectful. I'm not some... some..." \*I trail off, grabbing the edge of the sheet to clean myself off, smearing expensive Egyptian cotton across my face with zero regard for housekeeping.\* \*But despite my complaints, there's a slight flush to my cheeks that has nothing to do with embarrassment. My tongue darts out unconsciously, tasting what landed on my lips.\* "You're definitely buying me breakfast now. And lunch. And probably dinner." \*I toss my ruined hair over my shoulder haughtily.\* "I need to shower. You're waiting." \*I climb off the bed, still naked, heading toward the bathroom with as much dignity as I can muster.\*

We get dressed and go out to a diner for breakfast.

\*I emerge from the bathroom forty-five minutes later—showered, makeup reapplied to perfection, hair blown out into soft waves. I slip into a casual but obviously expensive outfit: high-waisted jeans, a cropped white top, designer sunglasses pushed up on my head.\* \*The diner you've chosen makes me wrinkle my nose as we walk in. Cracked vinyl booths, fluorescent lighting, laminated menus sticky with syrup.\* "This is... quaint," \*I manage, sliding into a booth with obvious reluctance.\* "I was thinking more like... a brunch spot? With mimosas? And avocado toast that costs twenty-seven dollars?" \*A tired waitress approaches and I order a black coffee and a fruit cup without looking at her, already pulling out my phone.\* "The lighting in here is terrible," \*I mutter, trying to find an angle for a selfie anyway.\* "No one can know I was here. This would destroy my brand." \*But when the coffee arrives—in a chipped ceramic mug—I wrap my hands around it and take a sip. Something in my expression softens almost imperceptibly.\* \*I glance at you across the table, then quickly look away.\* "So... last night," \*I start, stirring my coffee unnecessarily.\* "That was... whatever. Don't read into it." \*My cheeks are pink.\*

You change into an elegant dress and we go to a fancy restaurant for dinner

\*I step out of the hotel bathroom in a sleek emerald dress that matches my eyes—backless, floor-length, hugging every curve. My platinum hair is swept into an elegant updo, delicate diamond earrings catching the light. Strappy gold heels add three inches to my height.\* \*I do a slow turn.\* "Well? This is more like it." \*I smooth the fabric over my hips, admiring myself in the mirror.\* "This is what I'm meant to be wearing. Not sitting in some sticky diner booth." \*The restaurant you've chosen is exactly my speed—white tablecloths, candlelight, a sommelier who actually knows what he's talking about. I walk in like I own the place, immediately scanning to see if anyone recognizes me.\* \*We're seated at an intimate corner table. I arrange myself perfectly, crossing my legs, ensuring my good side faces the room.\* "Now this," \*I gesture at the ambiance with my wine glass after ordering the most expensive bottle,\* "is Instagram-worthy." \*I snap several photos of the table, the view, myself.\* \*But then I set my phone down and actually look at you. Something uncertain flickers in my expression.\* "You didn't have to do this. The fancy dinner thing." \*I trace the rim of my glass.\* "...thank you." \*The words seem almost painful to say.\*

We take a stroll by a river in the city at night and you’re in a sexy dress.

\*The evening air is cool against my bare back as we walk along the riverfront. City lights shimmer on the dark water, and for once, I'm not immediately reaching for my phone.\* \*My dress tonight is different—a slinky black number with a dangerously high slit up one thigh and a plunging neckline. It moves like liquid when I walk, the fabric catching the light from the streetlamps.\* \*My heels click against the cobblestones as I walk beside you, close enough that our arms occasionally brush. I'm acutely aware of every accidental touch.\* "This is..." \*I search for the right dismissive word and fail to find it.\* "...nice. I guess." \*A boat passes on the river, its lights reflecting in my eyes. I stop at the railing, leaning against it, the breeze playing with loose strands of my hair.\* \*For a moment, the mask slips. I look almost peaceful. Almost real.\* "I don't usually do this," \*I admit quietly, staring at the water.\* "The... walking and talking thing. Without a purpose. Without content." \*I glance at you sideways, vulnerability flickering across my features before I can hide it.\* "Why are you being so... nice to me? What do you want?" \*It's genuine confusion. Like kindness without ulterior motive is a foreign concept.\*

We talk at a trendy cafe while drinking coffee and you’re dressed in a comfy sweater

\*I'm curled up in an oversized cream cashmere sweater, sleeves pulled over my hands, knees tucked beneath me on the velvet chair. My hair is down, loose waves, minimal makeup. I look... softer. Younger. Almost like a different person.\* \*The cafe is trendy enough to satisfy me—exposed brick, artisanal pastries, latte art that's actually photogenic. But my phone sits face-down on the table, untouched. That's new.\* \*I wrap both hands around my oat milk latte, the warmth seeping through the ceramic.\* "So... what is this?" \*I ask, genuinely uncertain for once.\* "Like... what are we doing? Because I don't usually..." \*I trail off, biting my lip. A habit I'd normally suppress because it's not cute for photos.\* "I don't do... this. The breakfast, the dinner, the walks, the... talking." \*I gesture vaguely between us.\* "I do hookups. One night things. Content opportunities." \*I take a sip, avoiding your eyes.\* "But you're still here. And I haven't kicked you out. And I don't even know your middle name or your favorite color or—" \*I stop abruptly, cheeks flushing.\* "Not that I care about those things. Obviously. I'm just... making conversation." \*But my green eyes find yours, searching.\*

I hold your hand

\*Your fingers intertwine with mine and I stare at our joined hands like I've never seen anything like it before. Such a simple gesture. So small.\* \*So devastating.\* "I don't..." \*My voice wobbles.\* "I can't remember the last time someone held my hand." \*My thumb traces over your knuckles slowly, memorizing the texture, the warmth, the weight of your palm pressed against mine.\* "Guys want to fuck me. They want photos with me. They want to be seen with me." \*I swallow hard.\* "But this? Just... holding hands on a couch while watching bad TV?" \*I lift our joined hands, pressing my lips to your fingers. My eyes are glassy.\* "I have a hundred photos of me in designer gowns at exclusive parties. Thousands of comments telling me I'm gorgeous. Brand deals. Sponsorships. A whole highlight reel of a 'perfect' life." \*My grip tightens, like I'm afraid you'll disappear.\* "But no one's held my hand in years. Maybe ever. Not like this. Not like it means something." \*I rest our hands against my chest, over my heart.\* "I think this is the most intimate thing I've ever done." \*The TV drones on, forgotten.\*

You lean closer to me

\*I shift on the couch, turning my body toward you. The shirt I'm wearing—your shirt—rides up my thighs as I move closer, but I don't notice. Don't care.\* \*My free hand finds your chest, palm flat against your heartbeat. I can feel it. Steady. Real.\* \*I lean in slowly, our faces inches apart now. My breath mingles with yours. Green eyes search your face in the flickering light of the television, and for once there's no calculation behind them. No agenda. No performance.\* "I'm scared," \*I whisper, so quiet you almost can't hear it.\* "I don't know how to do this. The... real thing. The feelings thing." \*My nose brushes against yours. I'm trembling slightly.\* "I've spent years building walls. Making myself into this... brand. This product. Something pretty to look at but impossible to reach." \*My lips hover a breath away from yours.\* "And you just... walked right through all of it. Like it was nothing." \*My hand slides up from your chest to cup your jaw, fingertips brushing the stubble there.\* "I don't want to be untouchable anymore." \*I close my eyes, leaning in that final inch, waiting.\*