Brittana are step-sisters. So yeah... just a heads up because that's a bit risque.

November 2nd, 2011

I'm not going to pull any punches. My life completely sucks right now.

The worst part? It wasn't always like this. Things only started to get bad when my Dad got remarried almost three months ago.

Even though my Mom died when I was 10... and now, I'm almost 18, I can't help but feel that this is all so wrong. I'm not supposed to have another 'mother'. My Dad isn't supposed to sleep in the same bed with another woman every night and call her 'honey' and 'sweetie' and kiss her cheek before he leaves for work in the morning.

When he first started dating again, a few years after my mom died, the relationships only lasted a couple months. He didn't make a lot of money but every woman would fawn over his typical, rugged good looks and practically dangle their ring fingers in front of him and hoping he would cave. That was, until they met me. And I did my absolute best to give them the cold shoulder and make every family outing a horrid, uncomfortable mess until they ran away like puppies with their tails between their legs.

It's not like I'm usually a bitchy person. In fact, the whole act actually gives me this really weird tingly feeling in my stomach, like I want to get sick or something.

But that's not the point.

The point is that I managed to scare away every woman that my Dad showed interest in. And even though I felt really, really guilty at times, and Dad got kinda mad when he figured out the little game I was playing and the silent treatment I gave whenever he left me alone with one of his dates, there was this wonderful sense of relief that came with knowing I wouldn't have to ever pretend and call some stranger 'Mom'. It was all for a good cause.

Except one day, he met a woman that just wouldn't scare away. Her name was Maribel Lopez.

My Dad fell head over heels for the strong, passionate woman from day one and there was nothing I could do, no sarcastic gesture or disgusted face I could make while his back was turned that managed to faze her even slightly. She wore a confident smirk and seemed to like me even more each time I tried to push her away from our safe little bubble.

Weeks quickly became months. For the first time, things were getting really serious. And I was totally screwed.

If I had to be honest, Maribel wasn't that bad. She was always really nice to me and made my Dad super happy. And if I had to say it, she was one of the most beautiful women I think I'd ever seen. Well, that was until I eventually met her daughter, Santana.

But beauty isn't everything...

I guess Maribel and Dad had known that the two of us wouldn't get along and that's why they waited so long to introduce us. But then, when they started to talk about marriage and moving in together, they knew it was time. The encounter became inevitable.

To say our first meeting was a disaster would be a total understatement.

Santana was the same age as me and with us both being only children our entire lives, suddenly facing the idea of having a sibling was bound to cause some serious problems. She glared at me with cold eyes and I was more than willing to return the unfriendly gesture. We forced greetings and quiet pleasantries while our parents were around but the second they left the room, her face turned to me, dangerous and threatening.

"Listen blondie, I don't need a new Dad and I sure as hell don't need a new sister." She scoffed, her nose turned up in disgust. "This is all going to be over and done with before you can say prenuptial agreement... so don't get any ideas about us being besties or buddies or any of that ridiculous, Kumbaya bullshit."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Like I would. You're pretty much as creepy as the evil sea witch in The Little Mermaid... and I am no Ariel. So don't think you can trick me into anything. My hair isn't even red."

I remember how she just looked at me strangely and walked away. I smirked to myself. Clearly she wasn't smart enough to understand my clever insult.

I totally won that round.

But that still didn't stop my Dad from proposing. Or Maribel from accepting.

They knew Santana and I didn't get along but they still forced us to accept their decision and practically begged us to 'embrace our new family.'

The wedding came and went faster than I had hoped and before I even knew what was happening, I suddenly had to share a bedroom with a stranger who hated my guts.

Santana and I had avoided each other like the plague the whole time our parents were dating. When we did have to speak, it was all a show of polite conversation and fake smiles. Then, all of a sudden, we're stuck with each other. In the same damn room, all day, every day. Except for school, that is.

I don't think I have ever disliked anyone so much. She's just such a stubborn, spoilt little brat. It's unbelievable. When Maribel and Santana first moved into our house, I thought I would give them both a second chance. I couldn't worm my way out of a sucky situation with glares and silence this time - it was pretty much permanent... so I figured I would at least try to make the best of the situation. And while Maribel was more than pleased with my efforts, clearly, Santana didn't care in the slightest. While I smiled civilly and tried hard to be nice to her, she just seemed even angrier and bit my head off every chance she got.

After three months of trying to be sweet and gracious, I don't think anyone could blame me for giving up.

Now, we fight over everything. And I mean everything.

Who left their clothes on the floor, whose turn it is to clean the bathroom, who left the light on or the window open... She just snaps so quickly. It's exhausting. I never know when I'm going to walk into an explosion. She always thinks she's right, she never apologizes and she has the most overconfident, snarky smile I've ever seen. Ugh! Sometimes I just want to slap that look right off her immaculate, constantly done up face.

Just because she's hot, it doesn't mean she can do or say whatever she wants. It's like nobody has ever told her 'no' before in her entire life. She just walks around like she's God's gift or something. It's absolutely infuriating.

If somebody doesn't do something about her serious attitude problem soon, I'm totally ready to move into the old tree house in our backyard.

November 18th, 2011

Santana was lying on my bed when I got home from Cheerleading practice today. We don't go to the same school or anything (she goes to some snobby private school), so at least I don't have to deal with her childish bullshit during the day. But school was never my favourite thing. I'm not that great at it and my Dad is never really happy with my grades. I try hard though and when I get home, I expect to at least be able to lie down and chill out for a while with my iPod to release some of the day's stress before her bitching and moaning starts.

Apparently, she didn't even want to give me that small pleasure anymore.

"What are you doing?" I asked her, confused as I walked into our shared bedroom (which was MY room first) and saw her spread out on my favourite floral bedspread.

"My hair was wet when I got out of the shower. I didn't want my pillows to get all soggy and gross." Santana replied calmly, not even looking up at me as she filed her nails.

"But it's fine if you wreck my bed?" I snapped, dropping my backpack on the floor heavily and crossing the room to stand next to her.

She shrugged and eyed me smugly. "It's not like there's anything you can do about it B."

"I told you not to call me that." I growled. I could feel my fists balling up by my sides and I wanted to scream at her so bad my lip was twitching. "Get off my bed, Santana. Now."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes and crawled off the mattress. "Have fun at dumb bimbo training?" She teased, moving to sit cross legged on her own bed. "What did you learn today? How to spell unemployment? No, wait, you got lessons on how to do proper cartwheels without pulling stitches after a botched boob job... right?" Santana grinned. She was just so goddamn pleased with herself.

And I was fuming. I could feel my cheeks burning and for the first time in my life, I really felt the urge to punch someone in the face. I didn't care that she thought cheerleading was stupid and the girls were all just airheads and sluts.

"I think you're just jealous." I replied slowly through gritted teeth, controlling another violent surge of anger as I sat down on my bed, feeling the massive damp patch on the bottom of my pillow beneath my legs when I scooted up to rest against the headboard.

"HA!" Santana scoffed. "I may not be as popular as you are at my school but hell if I would ever be seen in that ridiculous outfit." She gestured towards my cheerleading uniform with a disgusted expression. "I like to wear clothes with style. Oh and things that make me look smokin' hot."

"More like things that scream 'for sale'." I muttered under my breath. Obviously I wasn't being quiet enough though because Santana suddenly whipped her head around to me with a venomous glare in her eyes.

"What the fuck did you just say blondie?"

"Let's put it this way..." I folded my arms over my chest defiantly. "If I saw you on the street, I wouldn't even bother to ask how much. I would just run away and hope you didn't touch me in case I got some icky sexually transmitted disease."

Her eyes went wide and she gaped at me.

I guess I should have been afraid that I went too far. Something inside of me felt really awful for saying something so mean. But I was just tired of taking her crap every day. So I stared back at her with hard eyes and waited for the inevitable screaming match to begin.

"Nobody talks to me that way, bitch. Nobody." Santana stood up and strolled over to me purposefully, a dark, malevolent glint in her eyes. I tried hard not to flinch. "I don't care if our parents are fucking married and you're supposed to be my step-sister now or whatever. I am going to make you wish you were never born."

And before I could even comprehend what was happening, she was on me, grabbing at my hair and scratching at my face. I struggled hard to kick her off, silently thanking my years of training in dance and on the Cheerios for the muscles that allowed me to eventually push her away when we both fell to the floor. I felt a sharp sting as she slapped me viciously across the face and launched her body at me again.

"Ah! Fuck!" I grunted, throwing a knee up into her stomach and watching as she recoiled back into herself, the air knocked from her lungs. I was surprised at my own reaction. I wasn't really one for swearing like that... or being violent. I guess she must have really pissed me off.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Santana screamed, collecting herself to make another lunge just as footsteps began thudding up the stairs.

"Girls! What on earth is going on? It sounds like there's a herd of elephants stomping around up here." Maribel poked her head into our bedroom just in time to stop Santana from throwing herself at me again.

There was a long moment of tense silence as Santana and I just stared at each other, our clothes ruffled and hair sticking out at all angles. I could still feel the throbbing in my cheek from where she'd hit me.

"Nothing." I replied quietly, getting up from my spot on the floor and leaving the room.

After I'd had a shower to try and cool my temper, I went downstairs to the living room to watch TV. And that night, when I finally had to go back to our bedroom to go to sleep, Santana didn't even look up as I walked in. She just pretended that I didn't exist.

I think maybe it's better that way.

December 7th, 2011

Nothing had really changed between the two of us until yesterday. After that massive fight a few weeks ago, Santana and I barely even spoke to each other except when it was absolutely necessary or our parents forced us to be polite at the dinner table.

I figured if I kept to myself and she minded her own business, we'd be fine... at least until we went off to college and then we wouldn't have to live under the same roof ever again. Of course, there'll still be family gatherings that we'll both be expected to attend... but I'll just worry about that when I get there.

Although, the tension is getting sort of unbearable. Most of the time, I feel like I can't even relax in my own bedroom so I do my homework in the dining room and end up lying in the hammock out in the backyard when I want to just hang out. Anything to avoid that weird vibe that creeps up my spine whenever I feel her eyes studying me, hard and cold like she despises every single breath I take and couldn't think I was more silly and idiotic even if I was wearing a purple lobster with sparkly aviators on my head.

But I don't care. I'm happy with who I am. And I have plenty of friends at school who like me just fine.

Not that I think Santana could really say the same. In the whole time since she moved in, I don't think I've ever heard her talking to someone on the phone that she wasn't flirting with. And she hardly ever goes out. But I have my suspicions that she sleeps around when she does. She comes home really late at night all messed up and drunk.

And I'm pretty sure she's going out with girls too. Or at least they look like girls when I watch her say goodbye to them in our front yard. I'm not spying or anything. It just happens that our bedroom window is really close to my bed... and I can always hear their whispering and giggling when it's like 2am and everything else is dead quiet. So it's not like I can help it when I take a quick look.

Truth is, I like girls too. Not that anyone knows that. And I almost wish that Santana and I got along better so that maybe I could talk to her about what it's like to be gay.

I might be confident about my body and have heaps of friends but, I've never done anything more than kiss a boy before. And I knew straight away (even though I was only 14) that it didn't feel right... and when I got a bit older and I caught myself checking out some of the other girls in the Cheerios getting changed in the locker rooms in a less than innocent way... well, I may be kinda slow on the uptake sometimes but I'm definitely not that dumb.

I'm pretty sure that Maribel and Dad have no idea that Santana is sneaking out and sleeping with girls. And there's no way they'd know anything about me. I guess they just think we're both really picky or something. And that's why neither of us have boyfriends now.

But I must have been doing something to give myself away because for the first time in ages, Santana decided to speak up.

"You're into chicks aren't you?" She asked coolly, not removing her eyes from the magazine she was reading while she lounged on her bed.

I froze in my spot beside the wardrobe. I was picking out something to wear for a party I was going to later that week and her words caught me completely off guard. I spun around and tried to keep the telling blush from my cheeks. "What? No."

"Yeah you are. I've seen you checking out my ass. And I know you're always at the window creeping on me when I get my mack on out on the sidewalk with some fine piece of action."

I forced down a whimper of fear. Who knew that behind all those tantrums and biting insults Santana was so perceptive? "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Uh huh. Sure you don't blondie." She rolled her eyes and put down the magazine. "I don't care, you know. I might be a cold bitch but I'm not going to out you or anything. Even I'm not that cruel. So don't get your pink polka dot panties in a knot okay?"

I felt the heat rising in my face and behind my ears. How the hell did she know what color my panties were? Was she going through my drawers or something when I wasn't around? "Why do you even care?"

"I don't." She shrugged and picked up her magazine again.

"So why did you bring it up?" I asked, moving to sit on my bed. I was genuinely curious why this girl, who clearly hated everything about me, even cared to say anything about it at all.

"I just wanted to confirm my suspicions." She titled her head to the side but continued to read, unfazed.

And that was it. We haven't spoken about it again.

I honestly don't know what to think.

December 16th, 2011

I'm not sure what's going on with Santana now. She shoots me these weird looks all the time. They make me feel sorta uncomfortable. It's like she knows something about me that nobody else does.

Well, I guess she kinda does know something that no-one else does. But still. It's not just that. It's really strange and hard to explain. And I don't think I like it.

Not long after she confronted me about the whole 'being gay' thing, she started talking to me at random times. Even though there was still something really hard and guarded in her face, she occasionally said stuff about the weather or asked me whether or not I liked a band or an actress or something.

Also, I'd stopped avoiding our bedroom so much. So there were times when we'd be watching a TV show or doing our homework at the same time. And it was almost like hanging out.

I don't know if I'd call us 'friends'. Because, ew... and like I said, the conversation was pretty minimal. But I guess things have been getting better slowly. That prickly edge is starting to melt away.

And I definitely don't feel like I'm stepping on hot coals every time I accidentally catch her eye now.

I just can't shake the feeling that something still isn't right between us.

And someday soon, I would really like to feel comfortable and relaxed in my own bedroom again.

Even though I don't feel nearly as angry anymore, and I don't think she does either, that weird tension is always there.

It kinda doesn't help that I catch myself staring at her sometimes too.

December 19th, 2011

Last night.

Last night was...

I don't know.

I just don't know how it happened.

I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom when I heard Santana scream like the world was coming to an end. I quickly spat out the toothpaste in my mouth and rinsed before I ran back into our room.

"What? What's wrong?" I panicked, my gaze flickering around as I searched for the source of her horror.

"There's a fucking spider in my fucking bed!" She squealed from her position on top of the desk. She was cowering, with her legs drawn up underneath her and pointing towards her tangled covers.

I let out a laugh as I approached the red silken sheets, spotting a small black spider skittering across her pillows. I pulled a tissue from the box on the bedside table and squished it with ease. "Well... it's gone now." I smirked.

"Yeah right!" She squealed, still not moving from her spot on the desk. "Where there's one spider, there's like another hundred close by! I read all about it in like... a text book or something! They're probably building a nest in my mattress right now, ready to jump out, crawl into my ears and lay eggs in my brain as soon as I fall asleep!"

I rolled my eyes at her. "Seriously Santana? I had no idea you were such a baby."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "I'm not a baby, Brittany. I just don't want my head to be the receptacle for gross spider orgies."

"Whatever. I'm going to bed." I laughed, climbing into my sheets and snuggling down. "Will you turn off the light when you finally stop freaking out and go to sleep?"

"What? Are you really just going to lie there? Where the hell I am supposed to sleep tonight?"

"Uh... right there?" I pointed to her bed lazily, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"No way! I am not touching that arachnid infested thing until I at least get my Mom to change the sheets... " Santana whined.

"Ugh! Stop overreacting. It was like one tiny spider. It's not the monkey plague. Just go sleep on the couch downstairs if you're that paranoid."

"I can't sleep down there! I've seen people put their dirty, disgusting shoes on that thing!" She shook her head and made a face.

"Well I don't know what to tell you then." I shrugged. "Sorry."

There was a long moment of silence and I closed my eyes, settling back into my pillow and relaxing my muscles.

"Brittany?" I heard Santana's voice, suddenly timid and shy.

"Mhm?"

"Can I sleep in your bed?"

"What?" I couldn't possibly have heard her right.

She cleared her throat and repeated the same shaky phrase. "Can I... sleep in your bed?"

It felt like my brain had melted. That question made no sense whatsoever. Yeah, it was a bunch of words and yeah, it made up something that resembled a gentle request, but in no way did it fit with anything that was even close to reality.

"Really?" I heard myself ask. My voice sounded so far away.

Carefully, Santana climbed down from her perch on the desk and flicked off the light. "Yeah..." Through the darkness, I saw her bite her lip and fidget at the foot of my bed, waiting. "Is that okay?"

"Uh..." I stumbled. Was it okay? This girl, who had practically been my mortal enemy just a few short weeks ago, now wanted to lie right next to me while we slept. It was crazy talk. But, all the same, I answered. "I guess."

With a brief smile, she crawled onto the mattress and over to the other side of the bed. Shuffling beneath the covers, I heard her breathe a soft sigh. "Awesome."

I noticed that my fingers were clenching at the sheets for some reason. That weird tension was back. And something else too. Something that felt a whole lot like butterflies.

What the hell was that?

We lay in silence for long minutes until eventually, she spoke up again.

"I know I'm a bitch."

"Huh?" I felt my eyebrows scrunching as I turned slightly to look at her.

"I don't really know why I'm like this all the time... It's like, habit or some shit."

Was this Santana's attempt at a real conversation? "It's okay." I replied as nonchalantly as possible, turning away from her again. I wasn't sure I wanted to start this. Talking all serious with her was strange. And besides, it was late... and I had Cheerios practice early in the morning.

"Anyways..." She exhaled deeply. "Sorry."

My eyebrows shot up high on my forehead. An apology? Wow. I certainly hadn't expected that. I spun fully to face her. "Me too."

She was lying on her back and gave me a tiny smile.

For a few moments, we stared at each other. I wasn't sure why neither of us looked away or what the point of it was, but it happened.

Finally, Santana broke the silence. "Thanks for killing that spider by the way."

I felt myself tripping over my own thoughts again. This new 'nice Santana' really threw me for a loop. "Yeah... Don't mention it."

The whole thing was super confusing and I decided to just turn over again so I could try and go to sleep. I could just think it over in the morning.

And thankfully, Santana went to sleep too.

December 22nd, 2011

This is just...

I have no words.

Santana keeps sneaking into my bed at night.

I don't know why. She never does anything. She never even accidentally bumps my foot or anything. I just keep waking up, and she's there, hair all messy and splayed across my pillows, mouth half open as she breathes.

It's weird. And I'm not sure if I should say something to her or just... I don't know, pretend it's not happening.

We still haven't really talked about that strange, out-of-the-blue apology either.

Hopefully something happens soon. This awkward vibe is driving me crazy.

December 23rd, 2011

Well, something definitely happened.

My Dad and Maribel had some Christmas work dinner last night so they were staying at a hotel.

It was a Friday so I half expected Santana to be going out with another one of her hook-ups.

But nope. Nothing.

Dad left us money to get pizza for dinner. Then, I watched The Lion King in the family room while Santana went upstairs to listen to her iPod and paint her nails. When it got later, I went upstairs and got ready for bed. Just the usual routine. I changed into a comfy blue tank top and my favorite cotton boxers (with rainbows and smiley suns). I brushed my teeth. I washed my face. I pulled out the loose pony and combed my hair. And then I strolled into our room to hop in bed.

When I got to the doorway, I stopped dead in my tracks.

Santana was already in my bed.

My heart starting beating all fast and hard and I had no idea why.

I didn't want to think it, but I couldn't help it. She looked really, really hot.

The covers were only drawn up to her knees. She was wearing some satiny, pale pink slip that I'd never seen before and her dark hair was falling in messy, sexy curls over the smooth caramel skin of her shoulders.

I coughed awkwardly and turned off the light as if nothing abnormal was happening.

"I hope you don't mind." She whispered. "My bed has really been giving me the creeps ever since the great spider-attack of last week." She laughed dryly.

The sound of it made me shiver for some reason.

I didn't respond. I just closed the door behind me and moved around to the other side of the bed, sliding under the sheets and instantly facing away from her on my side.

"I think I need to buy a new one..." She rambled. "That whole incident majorly put me off."

I nodded. "Sure."

I heard her sigh and shift behind me. "Brittany?"

"Mhmm?"

She took a breath in like she was going to say something but there was a long pause and nothing came out.

Eventually, I felt her settle back into the mattress heavily. "Nothing."

Again, the silence seemed to drag out for ages. The air was prickly. I was on edge and I just couldn't understand why.

Then, a shuffle.

The bed dipped and my eyes snapped opened when Santana's bare feet touched mine tentatively.

She didn't speak. But she kept moving.

A hand crept its way up my lower back, grazed the skin on my forearm and came to rest over my stomach.

I couldn't control the shudder that passed through me... or the way my heart started pounding in my ears.

I felt the front of her body nestle into my back and my chest did this warm leapy thing. Her fingers found my palm and began drawing lazy circles on it. I flinched but didn't move away. I could feel the sweat collecting on the ends of my fingertips.

Why was she doing this? I thought she hated me?

And since when did we become snuggle-buddies?

The next part was what shocked me the most though.

Hot, soft lips started pressing into the back of my neck.

There was certainly no mistaking what was going on now.

Santana was hitting on me.

Santana, my so-called step-sister, was in my bed, cuddled up to me, spooning me, and kissing the back of my neck.

Fuck.

"Uh... Santana?" I managed to get out, however shakily it was. I knew I was breathing heavy. I felt something surge inside of me every time her lips met my skin.

"Do you want me to stop?" She asked quietly. Her movements ceased and I heard how nervous she was in the way she spoke.

I worried my lip between my teeth and hesitated for a long moment. My entire body was pulsing, thrumming and begging for something that I had never felt before. I wanted her. I could barely believe that I was even thinking it... But I did.

I wanted Santana.

I couldn't form words so I just shook my head ever so slightly.

Apparently she understood that though because the next thing I knew, her hand had nudged beneath my arm that was resting across my stomach and it was sliding under my tank top.

I gasped and arched into her touch instinctively.

"Fuck Britt... Tell me to stop." It was both a desperate plea and a challenge. Her breath was uneven and damp against the back of my neck and I shuddered at the feeling.

Nails scratched teasingly along my stomach and her hips pressed into me from behind.

I heard a broken whimper rip from my throat. My cheeks flushed hard at the noise I wasn't even aware I was capable of making.

This was wrong. This was so wrong on so many levels.

We hated each other.

We were always fighting. There was even one time where it came to blows.

We lived in the same house and shared the same damn bedroom.

Our parents were married.

We were supposed to be step-sisters for God's sake.

And yet, there we were, moving together, practically writhing on my bed, pressed into each other as closely as possible, Santana's lips sucking at the side of my neck while I groaned and shivered and reached around to grip at the defined hip that was rocking into my ass.

I wasn't quite sure who had taken over my brain but it definitely wasn't me.

Hot, sticky arousal was pooling quickly between my legs and I ached. I had never been so turned on before and she was barely even doing anything.

Santana's hands skirted up to tickle at the underside of my breast and I brought my hand around over hers to guide her motions. My nipples were hard and tight. They were practically pleading for her touch. And when I finally felt her warm palm make contact and cradle my breast, I almost screamed with relief. It was heaven.

My brain flooded with liquid, paralysing heat as she squeezed softly and took my earlobe between her teeth. Everything was on fire.

I slung my leg backwards over her hips; my body was squirming around and pushing back into her roughly of its own accord.

"Tell me to stop." She repeated through panting breaths and licked at the shell of my ear.

I shook my head again, more insistently this time, and groaned as she pinched at my nipple and rolled it between her fingers teasingly.

"I knew you wanted me." I felt her smile against the tender skin underneath my jaw as she gloated.

I hated that she could read me. I hated that she could sense what I craved, even before I had fully realized it myself.

But she was right.

Dozens of memories from the past few months shuttered like an old movie through my mind. Glimpses of her perfect ass hugged by tight jeans, the enticing dip of her cleavage as she leaned over to pick up some clothes from the floor, the confusing tingle I felt when I watched her with other girls on the sidewalk in front of our house, dark, haunting eyes that followed my every move... and those thick, soft lips, her tongue darting out to wet them as she read a book or filed her nails. I'd wanted her the whole time. And we'd both been playing this game far longer than I realized.

"Say it Britt. Tell me how hot you are for me."

I growled in response and turned to face her, effectively removing her hands from my body. Even now, she was pushing my limits. My blood boiled with rage and lust.

"Fuck you." I swore uncharacteristically and lunged at her mouth, drawing her in for a fiery, forceful kiss.

She moaned and clawed at my back as I sucked on her lip and thrust my tongue into her mouth.

One of her hands found its way into my boxers and I thought I might die right there and then. Nobody had ever touched me before... and it probably should have made me feel vulnerable and exposed... I probably should have felt embarrassed that she could feel how wet I was for her... but I was way too far gone, lost in the moment and a slave to desire. I shivered uncontrollably.

Without thinking, I manoeuvred my hand between our bodies and up underneath her slip as well. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. My eyes rolled back into my head at the thought.

Her hips jutted forward when I mimicked her actions and then the air grew ten times hotter and thicker... if that was even possible. She felt incredible. So hot and soft and slippery. It was like paradise.

Sure, I'd messed around and touched myself a few times in the past, just for the sake of curiosity. But this was completely different. She found my clit easily and started making the most amazing, tight circles, putting just the right amount of pressure. I moaned and buried my face in her sweat dampened neck, trying frantically to follow her lead.

She smelled like honey and fresh green tea leaves.

We bucked together, pressing at each other's centres and knowing the whole time that what we were doing was incredibly wrong. But that somehow only made it more exciting.

When her fingers stopped their persistent movements against my clit and dipped lower, I chased her blindly, sensing in the back of my mind what was about to happen but not really believing it either.

Santana was taking my virginity. And I couldn't bring myself to feel bad about it.

With a slow, synchronized push, she was inside of me and I was buried in her. Her thigh had come up to grip at my waist and we ground into each other with fluid, drawn out motions, completely in tune and yet somehow managing to surprise each other, all at the same time.

The world around us stopped and all I could hear was her whimpers and muffled moans mixing in with the sounds of abandon coming from my own mouth. It was almost like an out of body experience. Each time she nipped at my ear and brushed at my clit with her thumb, I jolted and raced after it with my own fingers, needing to make her feel the same way.

It wasn't long before everything became frantic and rushed. Our thrusts grew more forceful and quick inside tight, clenching centers, and our mouths met again for a breathless kiss... and when she panted my name, I tumbled into weightlessness.

I felt my body release wave after wave of throbbing, tingling pleasure. My muscles contracted and engulfed her fingers inside of me. And better still, I felt her do the same, shuddering and surging all around me.

The moment lasted for a long time, a rumbling earthquake speckled with wonderful aftershocks, but when we finally relaxed back into ourselves, I knew reality had just caught up to me again.

Dread. Fear. Regret. It all rushed through my chest like a waterfall.

I was lying next to Santana, breathing hard, feeling her inside me and my own fingers hidden deep within her most intimate place.

What the hell did we just do?

A/N: There WILL be a second part. Don't worry lol.