âYouâre Naive If You Think He Just Wants To Be Your Friendâ
synopsis: Ellie finally reaches her breaking point. When someone mistakes your kindness for interest at a college party, you donât think much of it, but Ellie does. What follows is a tense drive home, painful silence. Jealousy turns into honesty, honesty turns into something neither of you can pretend this is âjust friendshipâ anymore.
warnings: friends-to-lovers, mutual pining, jealousy, emotional confrontation, explicit sexual content, consensual intimacy, dirty talk, possessive behavior (within a consensual relationship), praise, hickeys/light biting, strong language, alcohol/college party setting
The party was louder than either of you expected.
Not that Ellie would ever admit that.
She stood beside you in the middle of the crowded college apartment, shoulder brushing yours every few seconds as people moved around you. The music was too loud, the lights were too dim, and someone had already spilled something sticky on the floor.
Ellie looked completely at home.
She leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing a drink she had barely touched, watching the chaos around her with that familiar amused expression.
You, on the other hand, were trying very hard not to look overwhelmed.
âYou know,â Ellie said, glancing down at you with a small smirk, âfor someone who claims she hates parties, youâre not doing terribly.â
You looked at her, slightly offended but mostly amused by the observation. âIâm standing here.â
âExactly.â She nodded seriously, like she had just made a groundbreaking point. âUsually youâd be hiding somewhere with a textbook.â
You rolled your eyes, but you couldnât stop the small smile that appeared. âI donât bring textbooks to parties.â
Ellie raised an eyebrow, pretending to be suspicious. âNot even secretly?â
You laughed quietly. And that was the problem. Everyone else noticed things like that. The way Ellie always found a reason to stand close to you.
The way she remembered your drink order. The way she looked for you first whenever she entered a room. The way you automatically looked for her when something funny happened.
Everyone assumed. Your friends assumed. Ellieâs friends assumed. Even strangers sometimes assumed. That you were together. Except you werenât. Not officially.
And neither of you had ever been brave enough to ask what exactly was happening between you. So instead, you existed in this strange space where Ellie acted like she belonged beside you and you acted like you didnât notice.
âYou want another drink?â Ellieâs voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked up.
She studied your expression for a second, like she was checking if you actually meant it. Then she nodded. âIâm getting one anyway.â
âBecause I want one.â
âThatâs not an answer.â
Ellie grinned. âItâs an Ellie answer.â You shook your head, watching as she walked toward the kitchen.
You didnât realize how much you relied on her presence until she wasnât right beside you anymore. Not because you couldnât handle yourself. You could. You were just used to having Ellie there.
A few minutes passed. You were checking your phone when someone approached. âHey.â
You looked up. A guy you vaguely recognized from one of your classes stood there, smiling. You searched your memory for his name. You failed.âHi.â
He laughed softly. âSorry, I know you probably donât remember me.â
You immediately felt bad. Because he sounded embarrassed. âIâm sorry.â
He waved a hand. âNo, no. Itâs fine. Weâve only talked like twice.â
You relaxed slightly. âOh.â
âYeah. Same lecture.â
You nodded. That explained it. He seemed friendly enough. âSo, how are you liking the class?â
You smiled politely. âItâs okay. The professor is a little difficult.â
That made him laugh. âThe understatement of the year.â
You laughed too. And because you were laughing, because the conversation was easy enough, you didnât notice how close he moved. Or how he angled himself so people passing by couldnât interrupt.
Or how his hand briefly touched your elbow when he laughed. Small things. Things you didnât register. Because you werenât expecting anything. He was just being nice after all.
âSo what do you do outside of suffering through that class?â
You smiled. âMostly study.â
He smiled back. âThat tracks.â
You tilted your head. âWhat does that mean?â
He shrugged. âYou just seem like someone whoâs responsible.â
You laughed awkwardly. âI guess.â
âYou know, Iâm surprised I havenât seen you at more parties.â
You looked around. âIâm not really a party person.â
âI can tell.â You werenât sure if that was an insult. His smile suggested it wasnât. âYou should come out more.â Before you could respond, he leaned slightly closer. âActually, you should give me your number. We could study sometime.â
You blinked. Study? That made sense. You opened your mouth to answer. Then you felt it. A familiar presence beside you.
She appeared like she had been there the entire time. She stepped between you and him just enough to create space, handing you your drink.
You looked at her. âThanks.â Her eyes flicked toward you. Then toward him. Her expression was unreadable. At least to anyone who didnât know her. You knew Ellie. You knew when she was joking. You knew when she was annoyed. And right now?
She was trying very hard not to show something.
âYou good?â You asked quietly, slightly concerned. Ellie looked at you for a second. The fact that you were genuinely asking almost made her frustration worse. Because you had no idea.
âNo, yeah.â Her answer was quick. Too quick.
âIâm fine.â You accepted it because Ellie was Ellie.
Sometimes she was just in a mood. She placed one hand lightly against your lower back. Not enough for anyone else to notice. Just enough that you felt it. A grounding touch. A reminder that she was there.
The guy looked between you both. âSoâŠâ
His smile returned, but Ellie noticed the hesitation.
She noticed everything. âYou were saying?â
His eyes moved toward her. âI was just talking to her.â
Ellie nodded. âYeah.â Short. Flat.
The guy looked confused. âOkay.â The silence stretched. You looked at Ellie again. She seemed tense. But you couldnât figure out why. You assumed she was tired. Or maybe the party was annoying her.
âYou want to go somewhere quieter?â The guy looked at you, smiling. âWe could actually talk.â
And there it was. The moment Ellie stopped pretending. Because she heard what you didnât. She saw what you didnât. The way his eyes lingered. The way he ignored the fact that Ellie was standing right there. The way he looked at you like he had already decided something. Ellieâs jaw tightened. Her hand on your back stilled. You looked between them, confused by the sudden shift.
She didnât answer immediately. She was trying.
Trying to be reasonable. Trying not to let jealousy make her look ridiculous. But then she looked at you. At your confused expression. At the way you still genuinely believed this was harmless. And something in her snapped. Her voice was calm. Too calm. âMaybe you should back off a little.â
The guy laughed. Not because he found it funny. More because he seemed surprised. Like he genuinely couldnât believe Ellie was serious. âWhat?â His smile faltered slightly as he looked at her. Ellie didnât move. Didnât blink.
The noise of the party continued around them, people laughing and talking, music shaking the walls, but somehow the space between the three of them felt completely separate from everything else.
âI said back off.â Her voice was quieter this time. That somehow made it worse. There was no joke behind it. No playful attitude. No sarcasm. Just Ellie.
You immediately felt the tension shift. Your stomach tightened. Because this wasnât the Ellie who teased you about your planners or stole your snacks or made you laugh when you were stressed.
This was a side of her you rarely saw. The side that appeared when she decided something mattered.
âEllieââ You stepped forward slightly, hoping to soften whatever was happening. You werenât angry. You were confused. You didnât understand why this had become a confrontation. But Ellie stopped you before you could say anything else.
âNo.â The word was immediate. Firm. Her eyes never left him. Not even for a second. You went quiet. Because Ellie wasnât dismissing you. Not exactly. It was more like she was asking you to trust her for a moment.
The guy looked between you both. âSeriously?â
Ellieâs expression didnât change. Your eyebrows pulled together. You looked at her. Then at him.
âWhat?â You sounded genuinely confused. Because you were. You werenât pretending. You really didnât understand. âWeâre just talking.â
The words came out softer than you intended. You werenât defending him. You were trying to understand. Ellie finally looked at you for a brief second. And that almost hurt more.
Because there was something in her expression.
Frustration. Concern. Something you couldnât name. Then she looked back at him. Ellie let out a quiet, humorless laugh. âJesus.â She shook her head slightly. Not at you. Not exactly. More like at the entire situation.
âSeriously?â The guy raised his hands slightly. âOkay, I donât know what your problem is.â Ellie didnât answer. Because she didnât trust herself to. Instead, she reached for your wrist. Gently. Carefully. The contrast almost surprised you. Her voice had been sharp. Her posture tense.
But her hand was gentle. She guided you one step behind her. Not dragging. Not forcing. Just creating space. And only then did she finally look him directly in the eye. âI think sheâs done talking.â
The finality in her voice made the guy pause. You stood behind her, still trying to piece everything together. Because from where you were standing, the situation made no sense.
But from where Ellie was standingâŠShe looked like someone who had been watching a storm approach long before you noticed the clouds.
For a few seconds, neither of you moved.
The guy seemed to realize he had lost whatever argument he thought he was having. Not because Ellie had raised her voice. Not because she had made a scene. Because she hadnât.
That was the unsettling part.
Ellie simply stood there with her hand still around your wrist, her expression unreadable, like she had already made up her mind. The guy looked away first. âWhatever.â
The word was quieter than before. Ellie didnât respond. She didnât need to. She just turned slightly toward you. âCome on.â
You looked at her. There was no anger directed at you. Not yet. Just a wall. A distance you werenât used to. And somehow that made you more nervous than if she had snapped immediately.
âEllieâŠâ Your voice was softer. Almost careful. She didnât answer. She simply started walking. You hesitated for half a second before apologizing to the guy and following her.
Because even though you didnât understand what had happened, even though part of you wanted to stay and explain yourself, something about Ellieâs silence told you this wasnât the time.
The walk outside was quiet. The music faded behind you. The cold air hit your face immediately, sobering you slightly. The parking lot was almost empty compared to the apartment.
A few cars. A few distant voices. The sound of your footsteps beside hers. Ellie walked ahead. Not far.
Just enough. You watched her shoulders. Usually, Ellie filled silence. She hated it. She would make a joke. Say something sarcastic. Point out something ridiculous. Anything to avoid sitting in a quiet moment.
But now? Nothing. You swallowed.
âEllie.â No response. You tried again. âIâm sorry.â
She stopped walking. For a second, you thought she might turn around. She didnât. The silence stretched. âI donât know what I did wrong.â
That made her pause. Only slightly. But you noticed.
Because you always noticed Ellie. She finally looked back. And the expression on her face made your chest tighten. Not anger. Not exactly. Something more complicated. âYou didnât.â
You frowned. âThen why are you acting like this?â
Ellie looked away. Because she didnât have an answer that didnât expose too much.
She didnât want to admit that seeing someone else stand too close to you had made something ugly twist inside her. She didnât want to admit that it wasnât just annoyance. That it was fear. That she knew exactly what kind of person that guy was because she had seen it before.
She didnât want to admit that watching you smile politely while someone slowly crossed every line you didnât notice had made her feel helpless.
So instead, she walked to the car. Unlocked it.
The lights flashed. You followed behind her. Still confused. Still trying. Ellie opened the passenger door for you. You blinked. That was almost normal. Almost. Except her expression wasnât. âEllieââ
She didnât let you finish. She just waited. You climbed in. The second you were inside, she closed the door. A little harder than necessary. Not enough to scare you. Just enough to show she was holding something back.
Then she walked around the front of the car and got into the driverâs seat. The door shut. The engine started. And then⊠Nothing. No lecture. No explanation. No sarcastic comment. No âyou shouldâve seen his face.â
The silence filled every corner of the car. You looked over at her. Ellie stared straight ahead, hands resting on the steering wheel. Her jaw was tight.
The streetlights passed over her face as she drove.
You had never seen her this quiet. Not when she was annoyed. Not when she was stressed.
Not even when she was upset. This was different.
You shifted slightly in your seat.
Nothing. You looked down at your hands. You werenât used to not knowing what someone was thinking. Especially not her.
Because Ellie usually wore everything on her face.
Except now. Now she was locked away. The drive continued. The party disappeared behind you.
The streets became quieter. And Ellie said absolutely nothing. Which, somehow, was the loudest thing she could have done.
The drive is silent. Painfully silent. The kind of silence that feels heavier than an argument.
The kind where every small movement feels too loud. The music stays off. Usually Ellie always has something playing. A song she likes. Something random she found. Something she claims is ânot that deepâ despite the fact that she knows every lyric.
But now there is only the quiet hum of the engine.
Streetlights slide across the windshield in long golden streaks, painting brief flashes of light across Ellieâs face before disappearing again. Your hands stay folded in your lap. Not because youâre nervous.
At least, thatâs what you tell yourself.
Mostly because you donât know what else to do with them. You glance over. Ellieâs grip on the steering wheel is tight enough that her knuckles have turned pale.
That alone tells you something is wrong. Ellie is not someone who holds things in. She explodes.
She jokes. She argues. She makes everything impossible to ignore. But this? This quiet version of her? You donât know how to handle it.
âYou okay?â The question comes out carefully. Almost hesitant.
You hate that. You hate feeling like you have to be careful around her. The question hangs between you. For a second, you think she might answer.
The only response is the soft sound of the car moving over the road. You look away. Maybe she didnât hear. Or maybe sheâs choosing not to.
Neither option feels good.
You wait another minute. Maybe she just needs time. Maybe sheâll say something when sheâs ready. But the silence keeps stretching. And eventually, you canât stand it anymore.
âIâm sorry if Iââ You stop yourself. Because you donât even know what youâre apologizing for.
For talking to someone? For not noticing something Ellie noticed? For making her upset? Still nothing. Your chest tightens slightly. Then Ellie moves. Without looking away from the road, her hand leaves the steering wheel. You immediately notice.
Her fingers brush against your leg before her hand settles on your thigh. Firm. Grounding.
The gesture catches you completely off guard.
Because it doesnât match the distance sheâs been creating. She isnât looking at you. She isnât saying anything. But sheâs touching you like sheâs reminding herself that youâre there.
That youâre okay. That youâre still beside her.
Her fingers tighten once. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to stop your leg from bouncing. You hadnât even realized you were doing that. You look down at her hand. Then back at her face.
The gesture confuses you more than it comforts you. Because you donât understand how Ellie can seem so angry and still be so gentle.
Your voice is quieter now. A little more uncertain.
She doesnât respond. Her eyes stay fixed on the road. The passing lights reflect in them, but you canât read her expression.
âCan you please say something?â
Your voice cracks slightly at the end. Not from crying. Just frustration. You donât like not knowing.
You donât like feeling like thereâs a problem you canât solve. Ellieâs thumb shifts slightly against your leg. Another small squeeze. Almost automatic.
Almost like sheâs trying to answer without words.
But it isnât enough. You swallow.
âI honestly donât understand why youâre upset.â The words leave your mouth before you can rethink them. And the second they do, Ellieâs expression changes. Barely. But you notice. Her jaw tightens.
Her shoulders rise slightly. Then she closes her eyes. Just for a second. Like sheâs forcing herself to breathe. Like sheâs counting to ten.
Because if she speaks too quickly, she knows exactly what will come out. And she doesnât know if sheâs angry enough to say it. Or vulnerable enough to admit why.
âHeâs just friendly.â The words leave your mouth quietly. Not defensive. Not argumentative.
Just honest. Because that is genuinely what you believe.
You turn slightly in your seat, trying to catch Ellieâs expression, trying to understand the invisible thing she seems to be seeing.
But instead of answering, Ellie laughs. Just once.
A short, humorless sound. Not amused. Not surprised. Almost like she canât believe you still donât understand. You look away. The sound settles uncomfortably in your chest.
You know the difference between her real laugh and the ones she uses when sheâs trying to hide something. And that wasnât a real laugh. A few seconds pass. The silence returns.
You watch the streetlights blur past the window, trying to figure out what to say without making things worse. You hate this. You hate feeling like youâre missing something. Like everyone else knows a rule you never learned.
Eventually, the question slips out.
âAre you mad at me?â The moment you ask it, you regret it. Because you donât want the answer. Ellieâs fingers tighten slightly against your thigh. Not enough to hurt. Just enough that you notice. Sheâs distant. Quiet. Frustrated.
But she hasnât moved away from you. She exhales slowly through her nose. Like sheâs trying to pull herself back before she says something she canât take back.
âIâm not mad at you.â The words are immediate.
But her voice isnât. Thereâs something underneath them. Something strained. Something that makes you frown. Because she doesnât sound convinced.
You shift slightly toward her.
âThen what is this?â The question is softer than before. Less frustrated. More confused. Ellieâs jaw tightens. Her grip on the steering wheel gets harder.
For a moment, she says nothing. The silence stretches long enough that you think she might ignore the question again.
âHe wasnât interested in your fucking major.â The bluntness catches you off guard. You blink. The car goes quiet again. Ellie shakes her head slightly, almost like sheâs frustrated with herself for even having to explain it.
She looks out the window for a second. The passing lights reflect across her face. When she looks back at the road, her expression is still tense. But now you can see it more clearly. It isnât just anger.
Itâs disappointment. Not in you. Something else.
âHe wasnât asking about your classes because he cared about your classes.â Her voice stays low. Controlled. But every word feels like it has been sitting there for a while.
You open your mouth. Then stop. Because you donât know what to say. Ellie notices. Her thumb moves slightly against your leg.
Then her hand squeezes again. This time harder.
Not enough to hurt. Enough to pull your attention back to her. Enough to make sure youâre listening.
âEllsâŠâ Your voice is quieter now. She finally glances at you. And for a second, all the frustration disappears. Thereâs something else there. Something much harder for her to admit.
âYou really donât see it, do you?â The question isnât mocking. It isnât teasing. The next few minutes pass in a blur of quiet tension.
The conversation feels like it is sitting between you both, unfinished and heavy. You can feel Ellie trying to hold something back. You just donât know what.
The car jerks. Your stomach drops.
Ellie pulls over far more abruptly than you expected, the tires shifting against the road as she brings the car to a stop. You gasp instinctively, one hand flying out to grip the door handle. For a second, neither of you moves. The engine hums. The world outside keeps going. But inside the car, everything feels frozen.
She leans back slightly and runs a hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face. The frustration on her face is obvious now. Not the kind where sheâs angry at you.
The kind where sheâs angry because she doesnât know how to explain something without revealing too much.
You watch her carefully. You have seen Ellie irritated. You have seen her sarcastic. You have seen her reckless and impulsive and impossible to predict.
But this? This is different. Sheâs quiet. Focused. Almost painfully controlled. Finally, she looks back at you.
âGet on my lap.â The words are firm. Not a suggestion. Not a joke. You blink. For a second, you wonder if you heard her correctly. Because Ellie says a lot of things. Usually things that make no sense. Usually things she laughs about five seconds later. But she doesnât laugh now. She just looks at you. You hesitate.
âEllie, what are youââ The question dies halfway through. Because then you meet her eyes. And you understand why she stopped talking. Thereâs no anger there anymore. Not really. The sharpness is gone. Whatâs left is something heavier.
Like she has been holding onto a storm for too long and sheâs finally letting herself admit it exists. Youâve never seen Ellie like this. Not angry. Not exactly. Just overwhelmed. Like she needs something she canât put into words. She gestures toward herself, impatient but not unkind.
Your heartbeat picks up slightly. Not because youâre afraid. Because this is unfamiliar. Ellie is usually impossible to pin down. A mess of jokes, sarcasm, and half-finished thoughts. But right now sheâs certain. Thereâs no hesitation in her. No pretending. No hiding behind humor.
You search her face for some sign that sheâs joking.
âI said get on.â Her voice is lower this time. Still firm. But beneath it, you hear something else. A need for reassurance. A need to know you trust her. And somehow, that makes your confusion soften. Because this isnât Ellie trying to win an argument.
This is Ellie, for once, admitting that something got under her skin. That something scared her.
You take a breath. Then slowly you move closer. You move carefully. Not because Ellie is forcing you.
Because, for the first time since youâve known her, Ellie looks like someone who is trying very hard not to fall apart. You settle closer, watching her face the entire time. Waiting for the joke. The teasing comment. Anything that would make this feel like the Ellie you know. But it doesnât come.
Her hands find your hips almost immediately, steadying you. Not possessive. Not careless. Just grounding. Like she needs the reminder that youâre actually here. That you chose to come closer.
For a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence feels different now. Less like an argument. More like both of you are standing on the edge of something neither of you knows how to name.
Ellie looks away briefly. Her jaw tightens. Then she looks back at you.
âListen to me.â Her voice is low. Serious. You immediately become more attentive. Because Ellie rarely sounds like this. âIf you donât want to be here, you tell me.â
The firmness in her voice catches you off guard. Not because itâs harsh. Because she means it. You search her face. She isnât trying to pressure you. Sheâs making sure.
âI mean it.â Her hands loosen slightly, giving you space even while she keeps you close. âYou can say no.â
Something about that makes your chest tighten. Because Ellie, for all her confidence, is actually asking. Not assuming. Not deciding. Asking. You nod slowly. âI know.â
But Ellie doesnât look satisfied yet. Not because she doubts you. Because she needs you to understand.
âTrust me.â The words are quieter. Almost vulnerable. And that is what gets you. Because Ellie Williams does not ask for things easily. She demands. She jokes. She pretends she doesnât care. But trust? That is different.
You look at her. Really look at her. The tension is still there. The frustration. The jealousy. The emotions she clearly isnât ready to admit out loud. But underneath all of it is something much simpler.
âI do.â The answer comes before you can overthink it. Ellie goes still. Just for a second. Like she wasnât expecting you to say it so easily. Her expression softens. Only slightly. But you notice. You always notice.
âYou have no idea what you do to me, do you?â The question is almost whispered. Your heart stutters.
Because there it is. A crack. Not a confession. Not yet. But a glimpse. You donât know what to say. So you donât. You just stay there. And for once, Ellie doesnât need to fill the silence.
Her hands stay steady. Her breathing slowly evens out. The storm inside her hasnât disappeared.
But somehow, with you there, it feels less impossible for her to handle. And maybe thatâs what she needed all along. Not to win. Not to prove a point.
Just to know that when she finally stopped pretending she was fine⊠You were still there.
Ellieâs hands remained on your hips. Steady. Warm.
Not pulling you closer. Not letting you drift away either. She looked at you for a long moment, her breathing uneven, like every sentence had to fight its way past everything she was trying to keep under control.
âYou really donât get it.â It wasnât an accusation.
If anything, she sounded tired. Your brows knitted together. âThen tell me.â
She let out a slow breath, her gaze dropping briefly before finding yours again.
âI walked back to youâŠâ Her jaw tightened. âAnd he was looking at you like heâd already decided he had a fucking chance.â
You stayed quiet. She shook her head.
âAnd you were justâŠâ A small, disbelieving laugh escaped her. âSmiling at him.â
âI was being polite.â
âI know.â The answer came so quickly it caught you off guard. âI know you were.â Her thumbs absentmindedly brushed against the fabric at your sides.
Her eyes searched yours, almost pleading for you to understand. The car fell quiet again. You watched her carefully. She looked almost embarrassed by what she was about to admit.
âI hated watching him look at you.â Another pause. âI hated watching him think he could have you.â
Your heartbeat stumbled. Ellie laughed under her breath, shaking her head at herself.
âI kept standing there thinkingâŠâ She rubbed a hand over her face. ââŠthat I wanted him to stop looking at you like that.â She met your eyes again. âI wanted him to know.â Her voice was barely above a whisper now. âThat you werenât his to flirt with.â
The words settled heavily between you. She didnât look away. âI canât keep pretending this is casual.â
There it was. Not a joke. Not a sarcastic comment.
Just the truth. âI like you so fucking much.â You felt your chest tighten. âSo much that it scared me tonight.â
Silence stretched between you, but it no longer felt hostile. It felt fragile. Ellieâs grip loosened slightly on your hips, giving you room to move if you wanted to.
You held her gaze. She continued before you could answer. Her thumbs brushed your sides once, gentle now.
âI want to know that if I kiss youâŠâ She paused, choosing her words with unusual care. ââŠor if I hold you right here, hold you down until you ask me to stopâŠor beg me to keep going âŠâ Her expression softened. ââŠitâs because you want that too.â
The intensity in her eyes hadnât disappeared. Neither had the fire youâd seen since the party. But now you understood what it really was. Not anger. Not possessiveness. The answer came before you could overthink it. You nodded. Once. Immediately. Ellie searched your face one last time, as if giving you every opportunity to change your mind.
Something inside her seemed to give way.
The tension sheâd been carrying all evening, the jealousy, the fear, the helplessness of watching someone else stand too close to you, finally cracked.
Her hand rose to your cheek. Before you could register, she closed the distance between you.
Her lips met yours with weeks of unspoken feelings behind them. It wasnât a careful first kiss. It wasnât practiced or perfect. It was honest.
You felt the shaky breath she let out against your lips, like sheâd been holding it since the party, maybe even longer.
Your hands found her shoulders instinctively, steadying both of you. Ellie held you as though she was afraid youâd disappear if she let go.
And then, she let it all out. Her jealousy flared, hot and wild, and she ground you against her lap with rough little rolls of her hips. Instinctively a noise escaped you. Ellieâs breathing turned ragged the second she heard your whimper like a spark to her gasoline.
Her lips found your neck, nipping, sucking, a possessive mark blooming just above your collarbone. Every movement was sharp with frustration.
"Fuck," she muttered between kisses, "he wanted you all over him."
Her hands squeezed tight at your thighs suddenly before sliding up under the hem of your shirt.
Ellieâs fingers traced your bare skin, rough and impatient, her touch burning with pent-up jealousy. She kissed you again, harder this time, a messy collision of teeth and tongue that tasted like beer and desperation.*
She didnât want sweet. She wanted claiming.
One hand fisted in your hair while the other pulled at the waistband of your jeans, tugging just enough to make you gasp. Her hips kept rocking up against yours in sharp little thrusts, frustrated energy turned into something hotter, needier.
Breathe, she thought distantly, but all she cared about was wiping that dumbass from every inch of your memory.
Ellieâs lips stayed locked on your neck, sucking hard, leaving a mark that would definitely show tomorrow. Her teeth grazed the tender skin just once, a warning bite, before she pulled back slightly, her dark eyes locking onto yours. Her breath was uneven. Heavy.
She gave you that look, the one that said she was barely holding it together, and if you didnât stop her right now⊠thereâd be no turning back. A beat of silence. Then softer than before, almost a whisper against your lips: "Last chance."
But even as she said it⊠her hands were already moving again, fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants again with quiet urgency.
âI-lâ you stutter but desperately nod as she rolls her hips up once more. The second that whimper slipped out, soft, helpless, hers, Ellie snapped.
No more waiting. No more chances.
She crashed her mouth onto yours again, kissing you like she was starving for it. One hand stayed tangled in your hair while the other slid down to unbutton your jeans with frantic fingers, shaky from want.
Her hips rolled up hard against yours again, a deliberate grind, and this time she moaned into the kiss low and deep, losing herself completely in how good you felt on top of her.
The cool air hit your skin the second her fingers popped the button, then immediately, Ellieâs warm palm slid down over your stomach, sending a shiver through you. She didnât waste time.
Her hands were quick now, impatient and sure, and she yanked at the zipper of your jeans with zero hesitation. The sound was loud in the quiet car. When they came undone completely, she wasted no breath. Her lips left yours just to trail kisses down your jaw⊠then neck⊠then collarboneâŠ
They were already sliding under fabric, fingers skimming along sensitive skin below waistbands, as if memorizing every inch on their way lower.
Ellieâs breath hitched, audible, rough, as her fingers glided through your folds. She didnât expect you to be this wet.
The groan that escaped Ellie was low, primal, almost a growl, her eyes flickered with something feral as she felt how soaked you were through your underwear.
She just stared for half a second, her breath hitching, and then her thumb brushed over the damp fabric again⊠slowly this time⊠testing. A shudder ran through her.
Fuck. You wanted her. Not him. Not anyone else. Just her.
Ellie held your gaze for one long second, green eyes locked with yours, both of you breathing fast. There was fire in her stare: jealousy still burning, but now mixed with something hungrier.
Then, without breaking eye contact, she pushed your thighs further to the side. The movement opened you up more for her.
Her fingers slid right back where they were before, but this time lower, bolder, and when she finally touched there, pressing gently against that sensitive bundle of nerves?
She didnât look away. No smirk. No teasing words. Just intense focus and a slow circle of her fingertip that made your whole body jerk.
She absolutely loved that reaction. Loved how you responded to just one little circle. And she chuckled. Low. Quiet. Smug. Sheâd just won something precious without even trying hard yet.
Her eyes stayed locked on yours, dark with desire, amusement dancing in them. Just... possessive and pleased as hell.
Then she did it again, a slow, deliberate rub right over your clit, and watched every tiny flinch it pulled from your face.
Ellie noticed the second your gaze wavered, when your eyelids fluttered shut, when you looked down at her hands or to the side like you couldnât handle how intense this was. Her voice came out low. Firm. Not angry, but commanding.
"Hey." And instantly, your eyes snapped back. She cupped your jaw with her free hand and tilted it up slightly, forcing eye contact again.
"Eyes on me, baby" she murmured, softer now, but still unyielding. "Don't look away." The demand hung between you. Raw intimacy layered over pleasure and jealousy alike.
And then⊠without breaking that stare⊠she pressed two fingers gently against your entrance.
Ellie saw the furrow between your brows, the quiet, breathless anticipation and it killed her. You were waiting. For what? Her touch? A kiss? Something deeper? She held that gaze like a dare.
Then, slowly, deliberately, she slid one finger inside.
Just an inch at first. Testing. Feeling you clench around her instinctively from surprise and heat and want all tangled together. Her lips parted slightly, not kissing you yet, but watching every micro-expression on your face. Your mouth softened. Your breathing hitched
And still⊠she didnât look away. The second she pushed all the way in, knuckle-deep, smooth and sure, Ellieâs breath caught.
A real gasp. Not teasing. Not smug.
You were tight. So tight. Warm and pulsing around her finger, maybe because it was her, finally giving you what stupid guy never could.
Her eyes fluttered shut for half a second, the sensation overwhelming, but she snapped them back open instantly, remembering her own rule.
And there it was again that quiet chuckle escaping her lips. This time softer, more dazed than cocky.
Then she curled that finger slightly inside you⊠just to feel how much your body gripped tighter in response. The curl of her finger drew a soft, involuntary sound from you, maybe a whimper, maybe just air escaping your lips, and Ellie felt it everywhere.
She did it again. A slow, deliberate curl, gentle but deep, and this time she added the faintest grind of her palm against your clit with her thumb.
Her breathing had gone uneven now. Chest rising and falling faster than before. The heat between you wasnât just about sex anymore, it was something heavier: jealousy turned into intimacy⊠possession turned tender.
Still staring into your eyes⊠She leaned forward and kissed you, softly at first. The kiss broke just as Ellie leaned back, her lips still close to yours, and she spoke, voice low and rough with jealousy barely contained.
"Bet hecouldnât make you this wet," she muttered, "or touch you like this." Then, without warning, she picked up the pace. Her finger pumped harder. Faster. Curling deep inside while her thumb circled your clit in quick, relentless strokes.
No more teasing slowness.
Now it was all urgency, a frenzied rhythm meant to overwhelm you, prove a point. Judging by how fast your breath turned shaky⊠it was working. Yes. She was better at making you feel good than anyone else.
Ellieâs jaw clenched as she kept up the relentless pace, her finger plunging deep, her thumb grinding in sharp circles, and with every thrust, she locked eyes with you like a challenge.
"You were so fucking close to him," she accused between breaths. Her voice was tight, not quite yelling, but edged with that raw jealousy again. Possessive. Hurt.
And still⊠still⊠she didnât slow down.
If anything, she got rougher when your nails dug into her shoulders for balance. The pressure only fueled her. It was proof you were affected by this too.
She leaned forward suddenly and bit your lower lip, a quick sting of punishment-turned-kissâbefore diving back into watching how your face twisted from the intensity. The sudden buck of your hips against her palm, desperate, instinctive, sent a jolt straight through Ellieâs body.
It slipped out, a quiet, breathy noise from the back of her throat. Not quite a sound sheâd ever admit to making⊠but it happened.
And then came that chuckle again, the smug one, but softer now. Affectionate beneath the jealousy. Because you were losing control for her. Only her. Right here in this car with no audience but the dark outside and their racing hearts.
So instead of slowing down?
She pressed harder with her hand, finger driving deeper while thumb rubbed faster, and leaned in to kiss you mid-buckle. Ellie held your gaze like a brand, unyielding, intense, as she kept finger-fucking you with steady, punishing rhythm. Her eyes were dark green pools of jealousy and heat⊠and she wasnât done.
"Heâll never touch you like this," she said lowly, voice rough with emotion, not accusing anymore, but stating it as fact. "Heâll never get to see that beautiful fucking face..."
Her thumb pressed harder on your clit right after that. A tease. A punishment. She wanted the contrast: the man who had casual access to her girl⊠versus her, actually owning every moan, every shiver.
âFuck.â The second your hips stuttered, losing rhythm, losing control, Ellieâs breath hitched.
Soft at first, then louder as pleasure overwhelmed you, and fuck, it was music to her. Her chest swelled with something fierce: pride. Possession. Triumph.
âEllieâŠoh god.â Sheâd done this. She was making you fall apart right on top of her lap while she glared into your soul like a jealous goddess claiming whatâs hers.
The teasing stopped for a heartbeat, no more talk about the guy, as she focused entirely on the way your body trembled around her fingers⊠how wet and tight and desperate you were gettingâŠ
And without breaking eye contact, the stretch of a second finger made Ellieâs pulse spike, she felt you clench around both, tight and hot, and she didnât hesitate.
She started pumping hard. Fast. No teasing now.
Just raw, relentless fucking with her fingers, curling them on every thrust like she was trying to reach something deep inside you that only she could touch.
Your head dropped onto her shoulder, a heavy surrender, and your hips stuttered wildly against her hand, chasing the friction desperately.
Ellie bit down gently on your neck in response, a silent mark, to claim even more space while watching (and feeling) how close you were gettingâŠ
Her own breathing turned ragged⊠but not from effort.
The second she felt your body tensing, right on the edge, Ellie yanked hard on your hair. Not painful. Not cruel. But firm. Possessive. Commanding.
Your head snapped up, eyes flying open as you were forced to look at her again, your lips parted, cheeks flushed, breath coming in shaky gasps. She wanted to see it all: the moment you shattered⊠while staring into her eyes.
Her fingers never stopped, they kept moving fast and deep, but now with even more intensity behind each thrust, like she could push you over just by sheer willpower alone.
That intense gaze locked onto yours. Ellieâs voice dropped, low, filthy, vibrating against your ear, as she finally let go of all restraint.
"Look at you," she whispered, "so close⊠falling apart on my fingers. Only mine." Her words came fast between breaths, each one a spark to your nerves. "Youâre gonna cum for me like this? Huh? All because Iâm touching you right?"
She curled her fingers deeper with every thrust now, hitting that sweet spot inside you while her thumb pressed hard on your clit. And when another loud moan tore from your lips? She smirked, and leaned in to bite down gently on the shell of your ear. "Cum for me, pretty girl."
Ellie felt your body coil tight, every muscle tensing, breath hitching, and she knew. You were right there. So close. Her voice turned more commanding.
"Yeah⊠thatâs it. Let go," she breathed against your ear, "Iâve got you."
She didnât slow down, not one bit, but matched her filthy talk with the rhythm: relentless fingers fucking into you, thumb working in perfect circles like sheâd been studying how to make you cum for weeks.
And when another wave of moans spilled from your lips, louder this time, she kissed the corner of your mouth briefly before whispering: "Thatâs itâŠFucking cum on my hand."
The command hit you like lightning. And just like that, you shattered.
Your back arched slightly, your thighs squeezed around her hand, and a choked cry escaped as the orgasm ripped through you. Wave after wave of intense pleasure surged, hot and dizzying, and all while Ellie kept her fingers moving through it, riding out every pulse with quiet satisfaction.
She watched your face, the way your eyes fluttered shut for a second before snapping open again to meet hers⊠how breathless you were⊠No words. Just warmth in her gaze now.
Ellieâs voice softened, completely different now. No jealousy, no teasing. Just tender, guiding warmth as she felt your body throb through the orgasm.
"Shh⊠thatâs it," she murmured, brushing damp hair from your forehead with her free hand. Her fingers slowed to a gentle pace, still inside you, but barely moving now, just keeping contact so you could feel her there while coming down.
"You did so good," she praised quietly, "came so pretty for me..." Every word was calm and reassuring, the kind of tone only someone who cared deeply would use after pushing someone over the edge like this.
Ellie looked down, really looked, and her breath caught all over again. The way your body still trembled. The flush on your cheeks. How relaxed youâd gone against her, like every muscle had melted into her shoulder.
Her fingers were slick with you, and the sight of it, your pleasure glistening on them, sent a quiet ache through her chest. She almost moaned. Not from lust this time⊠but something deeper. Something warm and possessive and weirdly emotional.
Her thumb brushed softly over your lower lip, a rare moment of gentleness after all that fire, and then she slowly pulled out, being careful not to startle you.
The second you lifted your hips, helping her slide her fingers out, Ellieâs heart did something funny. You were so soft now. So pliant and peaceful, sighing against her shoulder like a sleepy cat after being fed. It undid something in her, the jealousy, the tension⊠all of it melted into quiet affection.
She carefully wiped your slickness on the inside of your jeans with two fingers, and then wrapped both arms around you properly for the first time since this whole thing started. Just holding. Her chin rested lightly on top of your head as she exhaled slowly, finally relaxed. âEllieâŠâ
âI know you.â She cuts you off, but not harshly. âI know you think people are just being nice because youâre nice.â Her eyes meet yours.
âAnd thatâs a good thing. It is.â A pause. âBut it also means you donât always notice when someone isnât.â You donât have an answer. Because a small part of you wonders if sheâs right. The silence stretches.Then Ellie looks down, running a hand over her face.She wasnât done. Not even close.
Then she turned to you, voice low and suddenly thick with desire once again, and gave one simple command: "Back seat."
No hesitation. She unbuckled your jeans properly this time and nudged your shoulder gently toward the back of the car.
Because if she was gonna eat you out?
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