After Diana leaves, I get back in the pool, not trusting myself to follow her back to the penthouse. God knows if I did, I’d only want to push her against a wall and kiss her, touch her,fuckher.
I cannot do any of those things.
I swim hard and fast for nearly an hour, pushing myself relentlessly through water that has welcomed her body many times before. The thought of sharing it with her arouses me; the same water surrounding my body has touched hers, engulfed it, slipped over her skin, her legs, her tits, her ass.
I’d love to say I didn’t notice her in her bikini, didn’t care about the perfection of her body, or that I haven't thought about it all these weeks when we’ve been swimming together. That it hasn’t been torture trying not to stare at the flex and curl of her muscles as she swims, the smooth expanse of skin on display.
I would love to think I’m that decent a man.
But I’m fucking not.
Everything about Diana Marchetti arouses me, not least the way she sucked my knuckle into her mouth.
Goddamn it.Thinking of her makes me push myself harder, just so I can forget. It doesn’t work, of course. I don’t forget; I obsess over every word she spoke, every sensation I experienced, and every feeling it ignited within me.
I feel it too.
By the time I return to the penthouse, my body is exhausted, but my head is a jumble of memories, all of them involving Diana. They cascade in like I’ve opened a dam, and now the water is going to drown me. I can’t get away. Did she feel all of those moments too, experiencing them the same way I did? Is that what she meant when she whispered those words?
I feel it too.
The uncertainty is torturing me. Felt what? What did you feel, Diana?
What the fuck are we talking about?
Is all of thismutual?
I have no certainty here; nothing to cling onto. Nothing concrete to hang my feelings on, other than the unbearable thought thatI’m attracted to my daughter’s best friend.
I promised myself I wouldn’t go there. Wouldn’t even think it.
But my mind is a mess, my body even more so.
I feel it too.
My dick thickens, and my head grows foggy as lust descends like a poisoned mist. I’m breathing it in, and it’s filtering into my bloodstream, where my pulse drives it straight to my cock.
Jesus, fuck. I am rock solid for my daughter’s friend.
I scrape both hands through my hair and pace my bedroom. I can’t do this. I can’t follow through on whatever this is. I can’t have Diana in the way I’d have any other woman—I couldn’t do that to Lizzie—but my cock is so hard, the blood in it thumping so forcefully, I can’t ignore it.
Fuck it.
I walk to the bathroom with one thought only.I need to purge myself of this desire.
I yank down my trunks and kick them aside, then turn on the shower and step into the stream. Gripping my dick at the base, I drag my hand up my shaft with a sharp tug, and a heady arousal percolates my body. I let out a groan, speeding the pace, up and down.
This is wrong. So fucking wrong.
But it feels so,sogood.
Here, in the safety of my shower, I can let myself have what I want. What Ineed. I might have thought of her many times, but not once have I allowed myself this release. As I pump harder,I yield to it…to Diana. This is for her, and there’s no point pretending otherwise.
I imagine her lying on the bed, spreading her legs, displaying her perfect, wet cunt just for me. She arches her back as I slide two fingers inside, and she moans my name.
Rafe.
I imagine her fucking my hand, taking everything she can get from it, rubbing herself on me with a desperation only I can sate. The head of my dick tingles, the buzz of an impending orgasm making itself known. I thrust into my hand, my lips forming her name.
