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I push at my boxer brief and wrap my hand around my cock. A sharp breath escapes my throat as pleasure ricochets through me in a shocking ripple. My strokes become faster as I grow impossibly harder. I imagine her ass clapping hard as she bounces relentlessly on my hard member
“Fuck,” I moan through gritted teeth as I continue the desperate stroke on my pulsing member. I can feel myself getting closer to the edge. I lean forward and...suddenly, there’s a knock on the door.
“Fuck, fuck,” I mutter, quickly pulling up my briefs over my aching member. I pull the covers up to my waist and snatch a book off my bedside table. I place the book over my pulsing dick and arrange my features into an inscrutable mask. The knock comes again.
“Come in,” I manage to say, despite the dizzying pressure building in my lower half. My voice sounds gruff, even to my own ears. I clear my throat awkwardly and try to regulate my heartbeat as I watch the object of my fantasies walk into the room with the most beautiful smile
“Good morning, Mr. Rodriguez,” Abby says in a bright tone. This morning, she has on a beautiful flower print dress that stops just below her knees. Her shiny brown hair is tied up in a simple ponytail that highlights the gorgeous curve of her neck. Her familiar scent of flowers and sunshine fills the room and my chest with an indescribable swelling emotion.
“Good morning, Abby,” I say.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Abby asks, placing the tray in her hand on my lap. “I brought you your breakfast and your medications.”
“I feel...great,” I say with a forced smile. “And thanks for the meal.”
“You’re welcome,” Abby says, gracefully lowering herself onto the chair next to my bed. “I’ll need to check and redress your wounds right after. So, I’ll just sit quietly in this chair and watch you eat.”
I laugh self-consciously, pick up a piece of toast and bite into it. I eat silently for a while, conscious of the tense silence that’s fallen between us. Finally, I place the half-eaten toast on the plate and clear my throat.
“Err... About what happened last night,” I start. “I’m...”
“Last night!” Abby cuts in quickly, then ducks her head to hide the adorable blush spreading across her cheeks. She swallows visibly and raises her eyes to meet mine. “Actually, that's why I’m here so early. The breakfast is um... a sort of bribe. Look... I’m really sorry about last night. I know it’s unethical, and I shouldn’t have gotten drunk, especially not on duty. It was irresponsible of me, and I promise that I’ll never do it again.”
Wait. What?
Does that mean she doesn’t remember what happened between us? I suddenly feel an unfamiliar feeling of disappointment lodge painfully in my throat. “Do you remember anything from last night?”
Abby shakes her head slowly and shrugs with a berated expression. “I...I must have blacked out after drinking all that alcohol.” She hesitates, biting her lower lip in a way that drags my mind back to the entangled webs of sexual desire. I shake off the thought before it escalates. Abby clears her throat again, louder this time. “I...Um...I didn’t waltz around the house naked or anything equally embarrassing, right?”
I swallow down hard on my disappointment. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing. She'd probably run back into her shell if she remembered the secrets she let out and the things we did. I definitely don’t want that to happen.
I want her to warm up to me, slowly but surely. I want her to come to me, confidence restored and in her full glory.
Last night, I caught a glimpse of the real Abby Smith. She’s a tempest, a minx that could drive me out of my mind with desire for her. I want all of her. Not a reserved part shackled with so much doubt.
“No,” I reply, flashing a quick smile. “Not at all. You went right to sleep.”
“Jeez. I’m glad,” Abby says with a visible sigh of relief. “I tend to keep off alcohol as much as possible. I can’t hold down booze to save my life. You know, the last time I drank was when Beth got promoted to manager at her workplace. We had a little celebratory wine, and I completely blacked out. The next day, I had to watch a video of myself professing my undying love to our kitchen cabinet. Beth held that video over my head for months and made me swear off alcohol.”
She chuckles fondly at the memory and shakes her head. “I really don’t know what I was thinking last night. What if I made a fatal mistake?”
I can’t seem to take my eyes off her for even a second as she rambles on. She notices the intensity in my eyes because she holds my gaze and laughs hesitantly.
