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“It’ll look good right here,” I say, picturing it hanging on the bare wall, a slight distraction from what the feelings warring in me.
“Alright, let me know if you need me to put it up for you and I’ll do so.”
I nod and look up at him, unable to hide my excitement and trembling. This is it. My skin is on fire as I wait for him to pull me close and take me right here against the wall or carry me off to the bedroom.
Gosh, even the damn painting will do, I think desperately.
Lorenzo bends and presses a kiss on my hot forehead, smiling. “Okay, goodnight. I’ll text you tomorrow.”
My smile drops from my lips as his words register. What the fuck? My hands fold in fists, and I glare at his retreating back. Why can’t he just give me what I want? He’s made his point already, and I know he’s serious about a relationship with me. As much as I want him, I don’t want to be the one to break and come onto him. I scream in my hands and turn away, stomping up the stairs to my room.
I plop on the bed, furiously sliding my pants down my legs as I palm my clit through my panties. My mind calms, pictures of his strong arms as he lifts the painting, his veins protruding from the exertion, play in my head.
His intense gaze washes over me, and my skin heats up. I press my thumb against the engorged nub and release it, arching from the pleasure it elicits. I pull the lacy number to the side and tease my entrance with my middle finger as it throbs violently.
I moan my need, tossing my head back in the pillow, not going past the warm entrance. My finger runs up and down the length of it, my core tightening as I wet my finger with slick. Sounds of footsteps reach my ears and my ears tear open as the door opens. I frantically try to cover myself but I’m too late.
“Oh wow,” a male voice says. I jolt, sitting up.
“What the fuck?” I bellow in a strangled and frustrated voice.
“I was trying to call you,” Lorenzo explains, his voice fading as he holds up his phone, his eyes going down to my exposed sex.
I look to the chair I’d dropped my purse with my phone in it, in a bid to quell the heat that burned my insides.
“I-um- didn’t see,” I say in a small voice, unable to look directly at him with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“I can tell,” he says, still grinning. “You were busy.”
“How did you get in here anyway?” I ask, confused.
“I memorized your key code. I told you already,” he explains.
“Oh, right,” I say, the words dying out. I’m unsure what else to say or do having being caught like this.
“Why did you come back?” I ask. My heart beats frantically in my chest, running a mile a minute as I wait for the only logical response. He must have come back because he changed his mind, but he still should have knocked before opening her bedroom door.
“Well, I left the keys to my car. I realized I must’ve just dropped it, but I got worried when I got downstairs and still couldn’t reach you especially since I just dropped you off. I saw a guy dressed in all black exiting the building. I decided I had to check in on you and make sure you’re okay.” As he finishes, his words leave me more confused.
Having my ass all exposed while I have a normal or slightly less normal conversation with the guy I want to sleep with doesn’t help me with the mental gymnastics his words just created in my mind.
“Why would you just assume I’m in danger?” I ask, looking him over. Beads of sweat dot his forehead, and his face is cinched, his chest heaving.
I frown. He looks like he just had an anxiety attack. My brows furrow in worry as I regard him. “Are you okay?” I get down from the bed, not minding I have just my tiny lace panties covering me.
He looks away and clears his throat. “ doesn’t matter,” he says, brushing her concerns off. “I saw something a lot more interesting I want to talk about.”
His words and the smirk on his face do nothing to take away from my concern. While I’m very horny and wish to indulge him so I can satisfy my needs, I know there’s something more serious going on with him.
His thought process when he can’t reach me isn’t what one would normally expect. If he can’t reach me, it should’ve been more likely I was in the shower instead of the immediate worry filling him, making him think something terrible had happened to me.
Why did he panic to this extent to the point of running all the way here?
There are issues with him I want to talk about but it’s clear to me he has no intention of speaking on these.
“I heard you calling my name, you could have done this when I was around to hear you,” he teases.
“You—” I pause despite myself. I can tell this is a desperate attempt to change the subject. He’s using sex and the position he found me in to change the subject.
