Make Me Wet (An Erotica Collection)

I stared at his picture for several minutes.

Him.

Zack Carter.

My bully.

My obsession.

The boy I swore I hated but couldn't stop thinking about.

He was the captain of the hockey team, the golden boy of our campus and the kind of man girls whispered about in bathrooms and dreamed about often.

His last name was money; his father owned half the real estate in the state, and his mother was some ex-model turned charity goddess.

Every inch of him looked designed to ruin people.

The sharp jawline, the kind you'd trace just to feel its power; those ocean-blue eyes that could look right through you; that mouth… cruel, curved, and devastatingly beautiful.

He wasn't just handsome; he was a menace. The kind of man born knowing he could get away with anything.

And he did.

His girlfriend was just like him… rich, flawless, mean. They fit together like a cruel fairytale.

Scrolling through his Instagram, I found a new post from a party. The kind with champagne towers, A-list celebrities, and girls draped over velvet couches.

Zack was in the middle, drink in hand, shirt half undone, laughing at something unseen.

The photo caught the line of his neck, the veins in his arm, the smirk. God, that smirk.

He looked untouchable. And that made me want him even more.

My breath caught as I zoomed in. For a second, I imagined what it would be like to have his hand in my hair, his mouth on my throat.

I just knew he was the kind of man that fucked rough. I smiled.

My legs pressed together. I shouldn't have been thinking like this, not about him.

The boy who humiliated me, the one who made me dread walking into class.

But hating Zack didn't stop the ache spreading through my cunt.

Before I realised what I was doing, my hand slipped beneath my blanket.

It started small… just my fingers brushing against my thigh, tracing lazy circles.

But the image of him was too sharp, too vivid. The way his lips curved when he smirked, the way his forearms flexed when he held a hockey stick, the way his voice dropped when he whispered something cruel.

I bit my lip as my breath quickened. My hand moved lower. Heat pooled between my legs, shame curling with desire.

I closed my eyes and pictured him leaning over me, breath hot against my ear, voice low and taunting, "You like this, don't you?"

A soft moan came out of me, my back arching slightly as I began to pump my fingers in and out of my pussy, slow and deliberate.

My other hand wandered up to my chest, circling a nipple through the thin fabric of my bra. I pinched it gently, my lips quivering as goosebumps rose on my skin.

My legs bent at the knees, feet flat on the bed, as I stared up at the ceiling, my breath coming in short pants. My juices coated my fingers, slick and warm, and I added another finger, circling my swollen clit with slow, torturous precision.

The pressure built inside me, a coil of pleasure tightening with each stroke.

I pumped harder, faster, my body moving in rhythm with my hand. Shock waves rippled through me, starting low in my belly and spreading outward.

I fisted the sheets, my knuckles turning white, as the euphoria built to a crescendo. My back arched higher, my hips lifting off the bed, and I moaned loudly, my voice raw with need. My legs twitched as my thighs trembled, nearing the edge.

And then I was falling, my body convulsing as I squirted, my juices spraying everywhere… the bed, the wall, my own hand.

But I didn't stop, my fingers slammed into cunt, my clit throbbing under my touch as squirt sprayed everywhere.

In my mind, Zack was there, his rough grip on my hips, his mouth closing over my nipple, his fingers joining mine.

I chanted his name. My voice was hoarse and desperate. "Z-zaaack, oh pleaseee," I begged, my body bucking as I came hard, my juices coating my hand and dripping onto the sheets.

When it was over, I lay still, my chest heaving, my body slick with sweat and my own release.

Shame washed over me, a familiar tide that threatened to drown me in its wake. I glanced at my phone, his perfect smile frozen on the screen, and sighed. With a trembling hand, I turned it off; the silence in the room was suddenly deafening.

I pushed myself up, my legs like jelly beneath me, and stumbled to the mirror.

My reflection was flushed, my cheeks red, nipples tight peaks beneath my bra. I pulled down the straps, exposing my full breasts, and smiled. I felt my arousal stirring once more.

I rubbed my juices over my tits, smearing them across my skin, my nipples hardening at the touch. My flat belly glistened, and I ran a finger over my swollen cunt, my golden pubic hair trimmed neatly.

But then,I hear a soft knock at my door.

I froze, breath catching in my throat. "Who… who is it?" My voice came out shaky, barely a whisper as I scrambled to find my clothes.

Whoever it was couldn't see me like this… flushed, dazed and with Zack Carter's name still trembling on my lips.

My gaze darted across the room, frantic, trying to smooth the soaked sheets and wipe my trembling hands on the blanket. My heart thudded painfully against my ribs, the air thick with the scent of my release.

"It's… Ethan," came the quiet shaky voice from the other side of the door.

My pulse spiked. Of all people.

"Oh my god," I muttered under my breath, yanking on my long skirt and tugging a huge checkered sweater over my bare chest. My legs still shook as I stumbled to the door, praying my face wasn't as red as it felt.

When I unlocked it, Ethan stepped inside… sweet, unsuspecting Ethan with his soft brown eyes landing on me, completely oblivious to the secret heat still clinging to my skin.