12
Weston
I couldn’t escape fast enough.
I stumbled into my room, slamming the door closed. My chest rose fast and hard, aching. My heavy pants were barely controlled. I had no idea how the fuck I’d been able to keep it together.
Truly, I couldn’t believe I’d even gone there with her.
Sure, I’d made up some excuse, but I hadn’t thought that she’d agree. My brain had just short-circuited at the words coming out of her mouth. That August had fucked her up bad enough to think that she couldn’t orgasm. Not that he hadn’t wanted to spend the time getting to know her body and do the work to get her there.
I couldn’t see straight.
I’d just wanted to get her off. Right then and there.
Forget the conversation I’d had with Whitt where I’d decided to let her go. That had fucked everything up. No way could I let it stand.
Then, she’d come all over my fingers, her face open and flush with desire after the orgasm. It had taken everything in me not to flip her over and bury my cock balls deep into her.
I’d gotten her worked up. I’d wanted to finish what I’d started.
But I couldn’t.
A teachable fucking moment.
Holy fuck. What a load of shit.
And she’d not only gone along with it; she’d practically been eager. Her body had responded like a fucking instrument as I plucked the chords. The sounds of her coming had been the chorus to a beautiful fucking song.
I still had the smell of her on my fingers. The sound of her orgasm in my ears. The heat of her skin against my palm.
Fucking fuck, fuck. I was screwed. How did I come back from this?
I palmed my erection through the material of my sweatpants. I’d thrown them on with loose boxers when I got home. Big mistake. I was hard as a rock, and she would have to be blind to not have seen it. Fuck. God, I needed to do something about this. A cold shower. Yes, that was what I needed.
I burst into the bathroom, cursing myself for giving her the room with the en suite bathroom. I had to slink back down the hall and inside. Luckily, I didn’t run into her before I got inside, turned the water on, and shucked off my clothes.
My body was still hyped from getting her off. I couldn’t get her out of my head. The way she’d responded so easily to all my commands. The first touch of me slicking my way through her folds. How she’d already been wet just from me touching her.
I groaned. “Fuck it.”
I switched the water to boiling, and when it was ready, I got inside and let the hot water cascade down my back. I was utterly fucked. I was never going to be able to get her out of my system. I’d thought it was bad when she was crawling around on the ground, talking about sucking cock. Now that I’d gotten her to come, there was no hope.
“Fucking fuck.”
With a sigh of relief, I palmed my cock in my hand. I shouldn’t jack off. I didn’t deserve to feel anything after this. I needed to escape her. And yet I couldn’t. I was already regretting that I was washing the smell of her from my hand.
I wasn’t gentle as I jerked my cock up and down. I tugged on it forcefully, achingly. I wanted the torment as I imagined what it would feel like if this was her pussy instead of my hand. God, even if it was just her wet mouth around me.
She’d mentioned sucking cock. I could fill her right up, grab her hair, thrust into her mouth like I owned it. I could own her. Every inch of her. Every hole. It was a torment to even think about how she’d react to taking my cock in her mouth.
I slammed a hand against the shower wall, feeling the first prick of orgasm up my spine. I was close. Of course I was fucking close. I’d never come in my pants, just from fingering her.
But if it were her pussy. Dear fucking God. She’d been so fucking tight. So fucking wet. I could spread her lips and sink inch after inch into her, take what I wanted so badly.
I came in long spurts to the image of her coming on my fingers. I coated the glossy white shower wall with my come until I was fully spent. Then, I bent forward at the waist, breathing harshly.
“Fuck,” I groaned again.
I was fucked.
After a few minutes of recovery, I cleaned up my mess, turned off the shower, and threw a towel low around my hips. I didn’t even bother drying off. I needed to get back to the safety of my room so that I could escape the image of her. I didn’t trust myself to not demand more from her.
I cracked the bathroom door open at the same moment her bedroom door opened. She made a small squeak as her eyes widened, dragging down my mostly naked and soaking wet body. Her nostrils flared, and her grip tightened on the doorknob.
“I was…just getting some water,” she said.
She’d also taken a shower. Her makeup was gone, and her long blonde bob had darkened to brown and dragged past her collarbone from the water. She’d changed into a blue tank top and sleeping pants. A rivulet of water ran down between her chest, pooling between her breasts. I watched the water, jealous of its trajectory.
“Did you need anything?” she asked me.
I clenched my jaw. I couldn’t tell her what I needed from her. Because what I wanted, she wasn’t ready to give. And I shouldn’t have even taken what I had.
“I’m good,” I lied.
She nodded. “Okay then.” She took a few steps down the hall. A few steps closer to me.
I still hadn’t moved. I didn’t trust myself to move.
Then, she smiled a small, shy thing at me. “Good night, West. Sweet dreams.”
Oh, I was going to have dreams. But they weren’t going to be anything but sweet torture.
“Night, Snickers.”
She disappeared into the kitchen, and I hurried back to my room, closing the door for the night on all of my temptations, just a few feet away.
Part III
Fine Line
13
Nora
Weston fucking Wright had fingerbanged me in the living room in the name of science.
Nothing made sense anymore.
It was a few days later, and still, it was all I could think about. Not Annie and Jordan’s wedding, which was only two weeks away. Or the Locke-King wedding that I was planning for next month. Not anything at all while I was in my office at Wright Vineyard, trying against all hope to be productive.
Except all I could think about was the sensation of his fucking fingers on my clit. The way he’d made me come harder than I ever had with my own fingers. And he hadn’t even taken my panties off.
All those years of assuming I couldn’t come, of being expressly told that I probably couldn’t, and he’d done it in a matter of minutes. My brain was in a fog from it.
I’d faked getting my glass of water so that I could see him again. And then I was the one salivating over the fact that he was in nothing but a towel around his hips. Shirtless and dripping wet, and suddenly, I was the one who was wet again. While he seemed completely unaffected by what had happened one room over.
I got my water and lay in bed, wondering what the fuck had just happened. And what I was supposed to do with the knowledge that my roommate could finger-fuck an orgasm out of me like it was his job. What would it be like with his cock? Which was only two rooms away.