My antennae will settle down, my dick will chill out, and I’ll be able to focus again.
Although…Flick has never really played matchmaker with me. Granted, my relationship history is grim, a fact she surelyrecognized. In fact, they barely counted as relationships at all. Neither one of my exes could understand my need for occasional solitude. They didn’t get that the moth part of me needed the alone time.
Now I’m aloneallthe time, which is how I like it.
Right?
A naked, fantasy image of Juliet pops into my mind, miles of soft skin, silky hair, perfectly round bre… “Jesus, Spenser, get it together,” I admonish myself, glaring down at my stirring cock. “Focus.”
I pick up a heavier set of weights and get back to it, grunting my way through the reps. Normally, working out is a great way to clear my head. The sweat, the attention on form…for me, weightlifting doesn’t leave room for daydreaming or ruminating on one’s problems. Or having explicit fantasies.
Usually.
I drop the weights when I finish my set, drinking more water and shaking out my arms. Argh! I kick one of Flicker’s bouncy balls under the couch in frustration. This is my personal ‘me’ time. No one ever sees me like this. I don’t have a gym membership or jog around the lake. I work out in private, where no one can tell that I’m vain and proud of my muscles.
Now, incessant thoughts of a tall, smart woman are ruining it.
I keep trying to convince myself that what I feel for her is just physical, but it’s more than that. I mean, yes, she’s gorgeous, but she’s also smart, witty, vulnerable, interesting…she’s exactly my type, and I knew it the moment we met. I knew I’d hire her as soon as she took the application out of my hands.
What the hell was I thinking?
I chug my water in frustration and head for the shower. I need to cool off.
Or maybe jerk off.
I stomp to the bathroom, stripping as I go, and turn the shower on high. Stepping under the stream, I let the water pound against my skin, massaging my sore muscles. My cock is already hard and aching, my claspers extended and flexing, searching for the mate that isn’t there.
The fantasy image of Juliet dances through my mind as my eyes drift closed. Her pheromones already drive me crazy, not to mention her jasmine scent and silky hair. I know she has curves, and I bet her tits are high and round, perfect handfuls with tight little nipples. She has an ass to match, juicy and plump, perfect to grip as I plunge into her from behind.
I grab my cock, squeezing hard, imagining it’s her muscles gripping me. I can all but hear her breathless moans as I fuck her, begging me to go harder and faster.
Yes, Spenser, just like that. Keep going. Right there!
My abs flex as I stroke myself roughly, not even bothering to go slow. I don’t want a tease. I want a vicious release. My breath comes in sharp gasps as the pleasure starts to build at the base of my spine.
Oh my god, Spenser. That feels so good. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop!
My hand slides along my cock even faster, squeezing the head on each downstroke, and my hips start pumping, chasing the orgasm. I piston into my hand, imagining it’s her pussy, over and over again.
Yes! I’m gonna come! Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, I’m coming!
Her imaginary voice echoing in my head, my cock flexes once, twice, and then I come harder than I ever have in my life. My knees go weak as pleasure courses through me, rope after rope of cum landing on my stomach.
When the sensations finally fade, I lean against the wall, trying to catch my breath. Water still pounding against me,shivering with the aftershocks of the world’s most intense orgasm, I try to decide if I feel better or worse.
JULIET
My text alert dings, and it’s from Braedon of all people.
I miss you. We should talk.
Yuck. As if. Did talking about him last weekend somehow summon him? Maggie was absolutely right when she said he wanted a mother and not a partner; I doubt the man has ever loaded his own dishwasher. Besides, he was the one who broke up with me. He doesn’t get to backtrack on that decision now, just because he needs someone to cook for him.
I know I should block his number, but some masochistic part of me resists the idea. But if he’s actually going to start texting me, I may have to rethink that. It’s not like I’m going to respond, so what’s the point?
Jin must see me roll my eyes, because they ask, “Everything okay?”
I nod. “Fine. Just my useless, immature ex texting me to say we should talk because he misses me.”
