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DELILAH
That just happened.
And now that I don’t feel like I have to hold my breath, waiting for what comes next, I’m panting a little. Leaning against the cool shower wall while my overheated body tries to make sense of what it’s feeling.
I know what it’s feeling. It’s just that I’m not sure I should be feeling it about him.
But facts are facts. He’s a man, and that was maybe the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. He didn’t even touch me, not where it aches the most right now, but my body is buzzing in a way it never has before. Even the times it was the best with Nash, I never felt like this.
Is this the way I was supposed to feel all along?
He was so careful, too. Like it actually mattered that he didn’t cut me. I run a hand over my bald pussy, and it’s totally smooth, not a single hair left. I don’t want to know if he’s done it before. If that’s how he did such a good job. I don’t want anything to ruin the memory of how deep he was in concentration, staring at my pussy while he dragged the razor over my skin.
The sound of him moving around outside the bathroom snaps me out of my hazy memories. I need to get moving before he comes in and makes me move, so I turn on the shower, but I’m still too distracted by the aching in my pussy to care much about washing up.
His face keeps flashing in my memory. God, he was so close to me. It would have been so easy for him to set the razor down and do other things. My nipples harden at the thought, and when I brush a hand over them, I have to grit my teeth to hold back a moan.
What if he had touched me? What if he made me come? I wish he had. I’m disappointed he didn’t.
This is too dangerous. I can’t think about him this way. He’s my enemy. He has me locked up, for fuck’s sake.
But the slickness now coating my smooth lips tells another story.
I slide a finger along the length of my slit and sigh, closing my eyes and spreading my legs a little, so I can touch more of myself. So my lips part, and my clit protrudes. The tiniest brush against it, and I gasp. The sound is loud in here, echoing off the tile.
I need to come, or I’ll explode. I wish he was in here with me. Touching me with those thick fingers that were so gentle when he was holding the razor. I bet he could be rough with them, too. I bet he’d shove them deep inside and fuck me with them while he used his tongue on my clit.
My finger takes the place of his imaginary tongue. I move it in quick, light circles, breathing faster, bearing down on the pressure and rocking my hips while water runs over my skin, dripping off my nipples and down my crack. My whole body’s on fire, my nerves tingling, my head thrown back while every ounce of my concentration narrows down to the inch or so of flesh I’m working faster and faster.
“Yes,” I whisper while I hump my hand, imagining it’s Lucas’s face instead. What would he look like down there, head buried, eyes locked with mine? Holding me down while he forces me to take all the pleasure he’s giving? “Fuck, yes… yes…”
Is he listening now? Standing outside the door with that huge cock twitching in his pants? Maybe he’s touching himself, jerking himself off to the sound of me fantasizing about him. I let out a moan in case he is close enough to hear.
And something about that heightens the tension. The thought of him getting off to me. “Yes,” I whimper as water splashes everywhere now that my touch is frantic. Needy. “Please, Lucas… make me come…”
I bear down harder, a scream building in my throat when the tension in my core becomes too much. It’s driving me crazy and is going to kill me. “Please…!” I whisper, straining, images overlapping in my brain, the memory of his groans while I blew him mixing up with my imagination until it’s too much. Until there’s nothing to do but explode.
“Lucas!” I gasp a second before it happens. When the unbearable tension dissolves, the sweetest relief washes over me like the water still running down my body. I jerk my hips once, twice, lost in bliss.
Then it clears up, and I come back to reality. To the shower I haven’t finished, and the doctor who is waiting for me. At least I won’t walk into my exam all heated and dripping wet after Lucas left me hanging.
I wash up quickly, then waste no time drying off. The sooner I get this over with, the better. I hope nobody sees me walking around with him, even if I know it’s inevitable. I’m going to run into Quinton and his little wife eventually. Just not today.
He’s not waiting for me in the bedroom, but he left me something on the bed: clothes. Actual clothes made for actual girls, not whatever sweats he manages to find for me in his dresser. They aren’t new—no tags or anything, and they smell like detergent—but I don’t care. It’s not like I’ve never worn castoffs, anyway.
I’m most thankful for the soft socks and comfortable sneakers. The cuts and bruises on my feet have mostly healed, but they still feel better protected while I move around.
“You almost ready?” he barks from out in the living room. I’m amazed he would even leave me alone like this. I wonder if he heard me after all. I wonder what he’s thinking.
“Yeah, give me a minute.” Then, as an afterthought, I add, “Thanks for the clothes.”
“Thank me by putting them on so we can get this over with. I have other things to do today.”
I roll my eyes but move faster, anyway. Now he’s all growly and irritated again. At me, or himself? I can’t help but like thinking I can throw him off his game this way. He’s not in total control of the situation if he can’t be in the same room with me after shaving my pussy. I bet he wishes he’d let me do it myself.
Unless he’s not. Unless he’s kicking himself for not doing more than shaving. He’s just a man, after all. There’s only so much clear thinking they can do when a pussy is around. Now he knows what mine looks like…
I need to stop thinking about this, or I’ll go into this exam all worked up again.
