THE WEEK PASSES BY quickly. Paige is a thorn in my side of college. Constantly talking loudly whenever I am nearby about the weekend away and her new BFF Imogen. Imogen, with her perfect blonde hair and blue eyes. Imogen, with her fifty thousand followers on insta and even more on her you-tube channel. I torture myself by looking her up and scrolling through photo after photo of her in some barely there bikini or in her underwear. She looks like she belongs on the cover of a magazine, and it makes me feel insecure and insignificant. I hate that I am feeling so insecure. I know Grayson loves me, but I can’t help those insecurities niggling away in my mind. Grayson can have any girl he wants and together they would look like the ultimate couple, both devastatingly gorgeous and powerful and rich. They are on paper, a perfect match. So, by the time Friday comes around, I’m an anxious ball of nerves and anxiety.
“Okay enough,” Grayson declares, indicating and pulling his car over on to a side road. “You have been quiet and moody all week. What’s wrong Manchester?”
I avoid his searching eyes. I feel weak and pathetic in admitting I feel insecure about this girl. “I’m fine,” I protest.
He gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t believe me one bit. “Talk to me.”
Sighing and folding my arms protectively around my body, and meet his gaze. “Will she be there this weekend again, the blonde goddess?”
Realisation dawns on my man’s face. “So, this is why you have been crabby all week?” He kills the engine and turns in his seat so he can face me. “Yes, she will be there. You don’t need to worry about her one bit, Manchester.”
I scoff and look away. “Have you seen her? She looks like a model, with her perfect face and her perfect body.”
I hear him release a deep sigh before I feel his fingers under my chin as he gently forces me to meet his eyes. “You are ten times more beautiful than she is.”
I scoff again and go to protest, but he shakes his head at me. “Listen to me, sweet cheeks. Do you not see how others see you? You’re so stunning that sometimes I pinch myself that you’re mine. How did I possibly deserve someone so beautiful inside and out? Imogen may look perfect on the outside, but that’s where the illusion ends. Inside she’s self-centred, vein and shallow.” He sighs again and cups my face in his hands. “Does the fact that I have you tattooed into my skin not tell you something? I love you so much it scares me, Manchester. The thought of my life without you in it,” he shudders, “is unbearable.”
My insides flutter with delight at his beautiful declaration. “Ditto.”
He smiles, his blue eyes twinkling. “Trust me. Trust in us.”
“I do, I will.” I nod.
Seeming satisfied, he leans in and kisses me. His kiss conveys all of what he has just said and then some more. He pours everything into it, making sure I do not doubt his love for me. “No more talking about Imogen. I want to spend the next couple of hours, lost in you. Okay?”
My core heats with desire at his words. “I’m down with that,” I tell him with a wry grin.
We reach Grayson’s house and the minute we are inside; he throws me over his shoulder and strides up the stairs like a man on a mission. He throws me down onto his bed and I bounce down on to the mattress. My guy stands at the foot of the bed and studies every inch of me, like he is committing me to memory.
“This is what I’ll be thinking about tomorrow night. You laid out on my bed like this.” He lifts his t-shirt over his head and throws it behind him. “Of your legs wrapped around me and those little breathy moans you make.” He pulls the zipper down on his jeans and steps out of them and then his boxers quickly follow. He strokes his hard cock with his hands, biting his lips as he watches me. “The only one I desire is you. You’re my obsession, Manchester. I can’t get enough of you.” He slowly crawls over me until his face hovers above mine. Grayson lightly brushes his lips over my own, making me tingle from head to toe with need. His hands reach for the bottom of my school shirt and he tugs at the buttons that pop open and he greedily drinks in my white lace bra. He leans down and sucks one nipple into his mouth through the sheer fabric, and I intake a sharp breath. His lips move across my chest until he gently kisses the tattoo that now sits beside the one I had for my mum. The Celtic heart, with posh engraved in tiny writing along the intricate design.
“Mine,” he says, his voice firm and sure. He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra and he pulls it down my arms and throws it somewhere across the room and then his lips are back on my skin, sending shivers down my body and making me yearn for more. His hands pull at the zipper on my pleated skirt and he tugs it down and off. My white lace panties quickly follow. He leans up on his knees from in-between my legs and he devours me from head to toe with lust filled eyes. “Open your legs for me, baby.”
Flushing slightly, I drop my legs open wider and he
