A/N: Just read. It's why you clicked ;)

"You know you want me." I gulped, wondering how I'd been so careless to let myself be alone with him. It wasn't your fault, I told myself, you didn't even know he was here. It didn't matter. He was here, and I was going to have to find a way out.

"No, I –"I choked out, trying to sidle around him to the door of the laundry room. I know what you're thinking. What the hell had led me into the laundry room? I was at my best friend's party, and she'd told me there was an extra stash of beer behind the laundry room sink. It was past midnight, and the party was raging. She'd decided that to keep it going she needed to bring out more booze. I'd gone to fetch it, since she was –occupied- with other matters, and I could be trusted not to hide out, drink it all and pass out drunk without anyone else seeing a drop.

"Don't lie to yourself," Matthew interrupted me. Without taking his eyes off me, he reached behind and deftly locked the door, with a "click" that echoed in my panicked mind. I could scream, of course, but the problem was…I didn't want to.

Aaron wasn't here. He was at the White House, a hundred miles away, with his five-star army general father, to attend the President's Thanksgiving dinner party the next day. He'd explained, apologetically, that I couldn't come, that it was an honor that even his father's direct family would be able to go. I'd told him I'd understood, of course. I'd privately thought to myself that Thanksgiving night would be the perfect time to lose my virginity with him. But now that I knew Aaron better, it seemed we'd never have a perfect night to ourselves. He'd be gone on Christmas, New Years, and pessimistically, every other holiday. Deep down, I was upset with him. We'd been dating for over half a year and we rarely got a make-out session over an hour long.

Matthew took two steps closer to me, and I took two steps back. Matthew was Aaron's best friend. Ever since I'd started dating Aaron, I'd seen Matthew almost every day. The sexual tension between us every time we were in close corners was so palpable I feared Aaron must sense it, but he never had.

Matthew was the dangerous type. We were all sophomores, but I suspected he was seeing over three girls right now. I was also sure at one was in 8th grade and one was a senior. How he could possibly get along with Aaron, whose father would skin him alive if he so much as threw a party at his house, I could not fathom. Nor did I have a reason for being so attracted him.

Well, other than his stunning perfection. The only thing I could say drew me to him was his physical essence. I worried high school was rubbing off on me, and I was becoming infinitely shallow. But no other guy's physique hit me as hard as Matthew's. I was powerless when it came to him, and that made me terrified.

"Aaron," I whispered as a last resort when he backed me up against the far wall. His hands touched the waistband of my jeans, and my heart pounded so hard I was certain he could hear it.

Matthew shook his head. "I'm sorry, Cass," he whispered. "I really am. But that doesn't change anything," he said, his voice bleak. I felt his hot breath tickle my ear. It smelled of alcohol, and I wondered if he was drunk. If not, he was damned too close to it.

"Matt, you're drunk. Don't do this," I begged, my voice weak as his hands travelled up my shirt and to the buttons. He began undoing them at record speed. My hands reached out of their own accord to his face, and next thing I knew, my mouth was on his. One of his hands was working on the last of the buttons while the other slid around to my back and unclasped my bra.

"Shh…" Matthew said unnecessarily, and bent his head down to my throbbing breasts. I gasped, and I felt his lips curve into a smile. I clutched his disheveled black hair to keep from falling as he worked one breast, and then the other.

"Please." I whispered after a while. I had no idea what I was asking for. By now, one of his hands had subtly slipped into the back of my jeans and underwear. All my attention was there now; he was fingering my ass slowly but firmly. I thought my legs would surely give out. He pinned me to the wall though, and I could feel his hardness pressing against me. He thrust his hips back and against me, and I felt just how hard it was.

"Please what?" he breathed, both hands at the zipper of my jeans. Shakily, I brought my own hand down to his crotch, and grasped him through his sweatpants. Taking that as my answer, he had my pants and underwear pooled around my feet before I could think. Dazedly, I kicked off my shoes and Matthew helped me discard the rest.

Before I could begin taking of his pants, his hand slid down my chest to my stomach, and lower…an index finger slid into me. I let out a squeak. I was hot and slippery; my muscles contracted tightly around the intrusion.

He dug deeper until his entire finger was emerged. The pain made me take in a sharp breath, and I tried to cross my legs, to move away, but I was already up against the wall. He had one leg pressed firmly between mine, effectively blocking my efforts. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe steadily. Any hope of that failed when he abruptly withdrew his finger, and plunged in two.

A strangled moan escaped my lips, and I tried to squirm away, but Matthew only dug in harder and pressed his mouth aggressively on mine. His mouth forced mine open, and forced his tongue deep. I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"So…tight," he panted, wriggling his fingers inside me. The noises I made only seemed to turn him on more, if such a thing were possible. Finally, he freed me, and I would have crumpled to the floor if he wasn't pressed up against me. He had his own pants halfway down in a second, and then he shoved me forward so that I nearly crashed face first into the edge of the washer. As I put my hands out to stop my fall, I felt something hard and hot near my moist opening.

"Arch your butt higher," Matthew commanded, slapping it, his voice stifling his excitement. He I obeyed.

"I'm so sorry Aaron," I whispered, tears in my eyes, as Matthew plunged into me with one quick, brutal stab.

I screamed, but stifled it with a thick fabric lying on the washer. It was Matthew's pants. I bit down on it hard, the tears running freely down my face. Matthew made a satisfied grunt and continued mercilessly on his joy ride, his steel grip on either side of my hips preventing me from squirming.

After an immeasurable time, the rhythmic pounding became tolerable, and soon after, it was enjoyable. I found myself arching my back, trying to take him deeper inside me. Now I was stifling my sounds of pleasure.

He could tell I was about to climax with a few more, quick thrusts, but he slowed down to a snail's pace. I almost screamed with frustration.

"Please," I begged again. "Please."

"Say my name," he ordered, voice husky with his own need.

"Matthew! Please! I need –harder!" I replied desperately. After a few more moments of agonizing torture, he finished me off with three lightning quick thrusts. I convulsed, screaming with ecstasy into my makeshift gag. He held me still as I did so.

Before my orgasm had finished rolling off of me, he pushed hard down on my shoulders, and turned me to face him. I was on my knees. I could see his huge penis, almost buzzing with eagerness, directly in front of my face.

"Suck my cock," he said, as if there was any fuzziness as to what he wanted. So I move forward and uncertainly brought the tip of him into my mouth. With an impatient noise, he grabbed my long, golden hair painfully in one hand and forced my head towards him. He then proceeded to jerk my head back and forth until I got the idea. Just as he was about to cum, he jammed himself completely inside my mouth and down my throat. I gagged violently, struggling, but he held me still by the roots of my hair. I was forced to swallow the surprising torrent of liquid. I spluttered and coughed up most of the salty white liquid onto the tile floor, then sank down onto it, tears flowing freely again.

I felt Matthew drop down beside me and gather me into his arms. I turned away from him, but he reached around and passively cupped my breasts. I was trying to build strength enough to put my clothes on and leap for the door, but I'd probably be ready for that sometime next morning.

He didn't give me that long. In maybe five minutes, I could feel him growing hard again. I didn't look as this time, he strapped on a condom. He gently but determinedly rolled me onto my back. I spread my legs for him.

A/N: Not very original is it? I'm not sure I want to hear your reviews…nonetheless please submit them! I have a T rated story called "Dreamers" I'm currently in progress with. Also, if I get encouraging reviews, I'll be posting more of these one shots :)

--Amethyst G.