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It leaves me with my only problem. Zara. My mind races with ideas and theories to get her out of my life, but none make any sense…nothing logical, anyway. She’s going to be a constant in my world, at least for the next few months. I’ll have summer break, but then I’m back at it again in the fall. I have to find a way to make this situation work.
But then the truth leaks out into my thoughts. I don’t want to get rid of her. I feel more alive when I’m with Zara than I ever have with Shannon. With Zara, we have chemistry, passion, and enough anger to make everything amazing. She’s perfect. And the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. God, when she was giving me a lap dance in her kitchen, it took everything in me to not come in my pants like some teenage boy. Shannon…well, we don’t have any of that. We used to once upon a time, but recently it’s more like we’re roommates who occasionally have sex.
I was going to propose to Shannon tonight. It’s crazy how things actually work out. I don’t want to marry Shannon and be with her for the rest of my life, but I figured that was the next logical step in our relationship. Was I guilty about my repressed feelings for Zara and wanting to prove to myself that I was happy with Shannon? I should have been a fucking therapist.
When the alarm on my phone goes off, alerting me that the thirty-minute run is complete, I jump off the treadmill with unsteady legs, nearly falling on my face. Back inside the locker room, I wash quickly in the communal showers and re-dress in the clothes I was wearing when I arrived.
As I’m tossing my gym clothes inside the duffel, I pat my pockets to make sure I have my car keys, and that’s when I notice something more important is missing.
Shannon’s ring.
Searching my bag, locker, and the surrounding area, I can’t find it. A three-thousand-dollar ring is missing. How the fuck? Panicking, I rush to the front desk and ask if anyone returned a velvet box and I’m told no. Not that I actually thought someone would turn in an expensive piece of jewelry, but it was worth a shot.
I don’t remember having it when I got into the car after leaving Zara’s, but then again, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was more concerned with getting the hell out of there before her boyfriend caught me pants-down with his girlfriend and called the cops or the school board on me. Fuck. It has to be there. In Zara’s apartment.
Of all the times I should call Zara, I can’t make myself do it. I’ll need to catch up with her another way. If I hear her voice, I’ll just find a way to be with her tonight. But if she doesn’t find it and Dillon does, this could go really badly.
When I’m back in my car, I search frantically around there as well, praying that it possibly fell out of my pocket and is nestled between or under the seats. When I come up empty-handed, I slap the steering wheel. I had to have dropped it at Zara’s. Shit. The only good thing about the situation is Shannon doesn’t have access to view the account statements online, so she’ll never know the money was gone and I have nothing to show for it.
The only thing I can do is go home and hope that Zara works at the diner tomorrow so I can get the ring back. The drive home is quick, and when I walk in the front door, I’m met by Gio as usual, and it appears that Shannon is already in bed for the night. Kicking off my shoes, I toss my bag in the laundry room and find a spot on the couch. There’s no way I’m going to be able to crawl in bed with Shannon after what happened tonight with Zara and not feel extremely guilty.
Pulling the quilt from the back of the sofa over my body, I lie motionless, staring at the ceiling, trying to rid Zara from my mind. It doesn’t work. I barely sleep, and when I finally fade away into the night, it’s Zara and her perfect body that plague my dreams.
—
“God, Noah, don’t stop,” Zara cries, as I roughly thrust in and out of her petite body. The warmth of her pussy enveloping me, dragging me in, making me want to hit depths I’ve never hit before.
“Fuck. You’re so damn tight.” Rolling my hips, I angle my dick up to stroke against that spot inside of her. When her legs begin to quiver and her nails dig into my ass I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
“Harder. Please,” she begs.
I kiss her aggressively on the lips and flip her body over. Raising her hips to meet mine, Zara grabs a pillow to place under her stomach. Stroking my cock a few times while I stare at her glistening pussy, my mouth waters to taste her, but my dick begs for release. Aligning myself, I slam home, making her body jump forward. She tries to brace herself against the headboard, but it’s a lost cause. I’m too ramped up and I might just put her through the damn thing.
Forcefully gripping her hip with my left hand, I use my right to twist her long blond hair around my fist, effectively using her own body for leverage against her. God, it’s fucking amazing.
Her tight cunt starts convulsing around my imbedded cock. I’m so into the moment I don’t register the evidence of her arousal leaking down my shaft and onto my balls until her small hand comes between our bodies from underneath, massaging her arousal onto my sensitive flesh.
Zara’s cries and moans could wake the dead. Each time she calls my name, my ego gets bigger. By the time she’s coming down from her orgasm, I’m thrusting so hard she might have bruises on the backs of her thighs. With a growl, I thrust my hips forward a few more times, spilling inside of her.
Suddenly waking up from the most amazing dream, I look down to see that I’m fisting my own cock and I’ve come all over myself.
If only wet dreams could have been that great when I was a teenager.
—
I wake the next morning to the smell of bacon and coffee. In all the years Shannon and I have lived together, I can count on one hand how many times she’s actually cooked for me, and of all days to do it, today must be that day.
“Morning. Why didn’t you come to bed last night?” Shannon asks, pouring me a cup of coffee as I walk into the kitchen, taking a seat at the small table.
“It was pretty late when I got home from the gym. You were sprawled across the entire bed and I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” I lie, because that sounds better than “I couldn’t get in bed with you while thinking about fucking my student.”
“That was sweet,” she coos. “Hungry?”
“I’ll have a bit, but I’m going to meet Derrick in town later. We’ve gotta plan Rick’s bachelor party.”
“Are you going to have strippers there?” she asks, scrunching up her nose and rolling her eyes.
“Probably,” I say with a laugh. “You know how these things go.”
