25
Harrison
We didn’t talkabout what happened.
Not for lack of trying on my end, but Frankie was determined to avoid me the rest of the night, an ever-present flush on her cheeks. She refused to make direct eye contact, even as we went around the dinner table and each of us said our favorite thing from the day.
“Harrison did his funny monkey face at pickup,” Collette said, and I made said face, causing her to giggle.
“I dreamed about William,” George said, cloudy-eyed.
“Aw, that’s lovely, George. My good thing was …” She cleared her throat.
“Can I guess?” I asked.
“I had a successful writing day,” Frankie answered quickly, still avoiding my gaze as her entire face went crimson. “Also, the sunrise was exceptionally pretty.”
“Why is your face pink?” Collette asked.
“Sometimes it’s hard for Frankie to get her words out.”
Collette frowned. “You should practice more. Practice makes progress,” she said with her all-knowing six-year-old confidence.
“Yes,” I said, being a cheeky little monkey. “I was there to help her get those words out. I definitely think more practice would help. Though really it was hardly any effort on my end—”
“I forgot the salt.” Frankie stood up suddenly. “I’ll go get that.” She woodenly stepped away from the table but not before shooting me a very clear warning look.
It wasn’t my finest moment, but I couldn’t help myself. To me, the moment in the pool house had been wonderful. It had been a release of building pressure, and I couldn’t wait to do it again. Her jokes made me think she was at the same place, but once we returned to the house, she slipped back into her responsibilities and away from me.
I regretted my teasing when she refused to be alone with me to talk. I didn’t stop thinking about getting her off, but I couldn’t find the right way to bring it up. I wanted more. I wanted to be the person who got her off like that every day. Instead, after the chaos of dinner, cleanup, and bath time, Frankie went to her room and shut the door.
Message received.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about her. Replaying the sounds she made. The incredible feel of her, how wet and how turned on she was, so that the little effort on my end had her falling to pieces. The heat that poured out of her as she arched into my hand. How desperately she needed the relief that I provided her.
I groaned, palming my erection through my shorts, still remembering how good she smelled.
She shouldn’t be embarrassed. She should be proud. I certainly was.
I hadn’t known Frankie for very long, but she wasn’t the type to let go like that. I couldn’t even believe what was happening until it was too late for me to stop. Touching her had meant more to me than any accolade or acting award. Touching Frankie meant that she gave me part of her nobody else had.
She wouldn’t open up about it, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Possibly ever again. Especially if this erection never went away.
The phone on my bedside table lit up. It must have been my personal phone because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my work phone. I’d been letting Collette use it more and more. She liked to make videos of herself performing the same song over and over and then have me watch them and give critiques. So long as the critiques were me complimenting her.
The phone lit up again.
I slid it open to read the awaiting messages.
“Meet me in the pool house in ten.”
“Unless you are sleeping.”
“Are you seriously sleeping?”
I chuckled and responded. “Not anymore.”
She responded with an eye-roll emoji.
