"You know... there's nothing as tempting as a locked door." His lips curved into a leer, teeth flasing ivory underneath cracked, rosy lips. He was beautiful. Enticing, seductive, dangerous. His entire being was a siren-call, a warning in designer jeans. I loathed him.
He exhaled, blowing vapors in my face with exaggerated slowness as he waited for my response. His eyes flashed, fingers twitching with calculated strength as he ground his ciggarette into the heavy cement walls. I shivered, reminded again of our close proximity and location. It was an old bunker. Spent condoms and empty bottles littered the floor, forming a dense mat beneath my KEDS. The door waited. It's deadbolt sat slightly ajar - techinically, the door was locked. But a simple shove would knock the deadbolt from it's perilous perch, and allow this boy and I access to something I wasn't sure I was ready for.
"Let's just stay out here," I mumbled uneasily. I attempted to turn my head away, but suddenly, those fingers were there, gripping me in place. He sneered and blew his foul, empty breath into my face. Frozen, I watched as he moved closer, dropping the spent ciggarette down my gaping cleavage. Startled, I started to pull away - but he was there again, holding me in place. He was beautiful. He was all dark eyes and long, unashamed stares. A part of me hated it, hating the way his eyes roved my body andexplored the swell of my breasts. I part of me loved it, and I hated that too.
Then we were moving. His hands were moving, our feet stumbling, my head was reeling. His hands ripped at my shirt, cold nails skimming the soft expanse of my stomach. I hated it, I hated it. Then came the locked door - a quick shove, then an unlocked door. On we stumbled, his eyes narrowed and cruel now. So beautiful. With a quick, harsh shove, I was no longer standing. I hated it, hated it, hated it. But there was no stopping him now. The door was open.
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