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Straight through my chest.
Like a thick fog that moved around me, preventing me from feeling anything other than guilt.
A regret so strong that everything began to sting.
“Don’t.” My spit felt like acid, going down my throat. I couldn’t stand myself. I couldn’t believe what the hell I had done. What I’d jeopardized. What I’d probably fucking ruined. “I’m sorry.”
Her hands left my face.
“Sydney, I’m so fucking sorry I did this to us.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“I fucked this all up. I told myself I shouldn’t do this, and I …” I couldn’t get my thoughts straight. I couldn’t even think. Breathe. “I couldn’t stop myself. I wasn’t thinking of Everly. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, but this can’t happen again. It just … can’t.” I slid my fingers out of her pussy, but I didn’t move. I stayed close, caging her against the counter. “Forgive me, Sydney. Please forgive me.”
“It’s not your fault.”
There was emotion in her eyes.
I couldn’t take it—the pain, the hurt.
The sadness.
I cupped her cheek.
It was just for the briefest of seconds, but she needed to feel me.
To know I cared.
To know how goddamn sorry I was.
“Forgive me,” I whispered.
“I …” She held in her breath, staring, blinking. Waiting. “I should go to bed.”
I couldn’t say anything.
I didn’t trust myself.
I moved my arms back, giving her enough room to get by.
“Good night, Ford,” she said in the softest voice as she disappeared from the kitchen.
I watched her entire journey through the living room, her bare feet climbing the stairs until she was too far up to see.
I heard the click of the guest room door as it closed.
And I stayed right where I was, holding the wine to my mouth, doing everything I could to calm down my body.
To not climb those stairs.
To not knock on her door.
To not make another mistake that I wouldn’t ever be able to come back from.
If I didn’t get off, if I didn’t have an orgasm right this fucking second, that mistake was undoubtedly going to happen.
I downed the wine and headed for my room, locking the door behind me. Once I got to my bathroom, I turned on the water in the shower and stripped off my clothes, not even waiting for the temperature to warm before I stepped in.
I squirted some soap onto my hand and wrapped my fingers around my cock.
Tightly.
Like it was her fucking pussy.
And as the steam started to fill the large walk-in space, my fist rode down my shaft toward my balls and glided back toward my crown.
Pumping.
As I envisioned that tight, wet cunt.
The one I had tasted tonight.
The one that had come on my fingers.
The softness of the soap, the bubbles, just like Sydney’s wetness. The hold of my fist, like the narrowness as I plunged inside her.
My eyes closed, and I saw that gorgeous body.
That beautiful face.
Those long, lean, toned legs spread wide.
Just for me.
My balls were tingling, the sensation moving through them and into my shaft.
But I didn’t slow.
I sped up, and I increased my grip, moving as if I were thrusting into her pussy.
Until it was too much.
Until I couldn’t hold off a second longer.
