AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Rhenn?” she asks behind me, stopping me once again from stepping into the bathroom.
“Yeah?” I respond, turning once more to face her. This time, I’m a little embarrassed by my reaction to the whole clothing situation. I’ve never freaked out like that before, even if just on the inside, and frankly, I’m not sure how to handle it.
“Why didn’t you get much sleep?” she asks, leaning against her bedroom doorjamb.
“You mean besides the fact that my best friend was screwing his wife in my bed half the night?” The corner of my lip ticks.
Her face instantly blushes a dark shade of red. Marissa clears her throat. “Yeah, besides that?”
Turning to face her completely, I decide to throw all my cards down on the table. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open, but I don’t hang around for a reply. Instead, I close the door, knowing I was a half second away from inviting her inside to help with my shower. Oh, the things I would do to that woman while naked and wet…
* * *
I shower just a smidge longer than normal. Why, you ask? Because her shower smells like her. The shampoo, soap, even the bright pink loofa that hangs from the rack in the corner. It’s her, and I find myself completely immersed in her fragrant scent, smiling like a psycho when I scrubbed my body. My cock throbs with every inhale of breath I take. Instead of taking it in my hand, like I really want to do, I flip the water to cold.
Fucking hell!
The burst of cold liquid pelting me in the chest might help alleviate the throb, but it does nothing to calm my blue balls. Now, they’re blue for another reason.
I shut off the water and grab one of the fluffy green towels off the shelf above the toilet. Running it along my head and face, I make my way down my body, careful not to whack myself in the family jewels. They might never recover.
I bring the towel up to my face once more. Would you believe that this fluffy green bastard smells like her too? And the moment I wrap one around my waist, it’s like a Marissa hug to my cock.
Fucking. Hell.
I spy the clothes sitting on the sink and imagine her brother. Nothing kills a boner like picturing another dude. Worse, I don’t have any clean boxer briefs so I’m freeballing it in another man’s shorts. Awesome. I throw on the too-small shorts, followed quickly by the shirt and run my hand through my hair. With the socks, my dirty clothes and wet towel in hand, I step out of the bathroom, make two steps to the left, and find myself right back in the kitchen.
See? Small cottage.
“I wasn’t sure where I should put this,” I say, holding up the wet towel.
Marissa turns around, a bowl of pancake batter against her stomach as she stirs it swiftly. There’s a smudge of flour across her cheek, which reminds me instantly of the day we met. “Oh, you can throw it in the basket in front of the washer,” she says, stirring and nodding in the direction of the back door. I find the world’s smallest utility room with a stacked washer and dryer, furnace, and hot water heater.
Honestly, her cottage reminds me a bit of my boat. It’s close, tight quarters, which she obviously doesn’t seem to mind, as long as it’s well organized. Hers clearly is. I shut the door behind me and step back in the kitchen. Marissa is pouring pancake batter onto a griddle, the scent of bacon wafting through the air and wrapping around my empty stomach.
“Smells delicious,” I say, coming to stand beside her. I’m not entirely talking about the food, neither.
“It’ll be ready in just a few minutes. What time are Nick and Meghan coming?” she asks, expertly pouring the batter and then flipping the big, fluffy pancakes with a spatula.
Running my hand through my hair once more, I reply, “I didn’t invite them.”
Marissa stops and turns to look at me. “I made enough for four.”
“Trust me, Angel, I won’t let any food go to waste, but if there is extra, we can take it back to the boat with us. I’m sure when the lovebirds finally wake up from their night of christening my bed, they’ll be starving.”
She drops the spatula. “Your bed has never…you’ve never…” Her face turns as red as an apple.
“Oh, there’s been plenty of that, Angel. I’m just saying they’ve never done it in my bed. At least I don’t think they have,” I reply, reaching down and grabbing her discarded kitchen utensil.
Why does it suddenly feel hot in here? Like the combination of oven and griddle is causing the tiny kitchen to reach hellish heat levels. The truth is, yes, there has been plenty of sex in that bed. When I first purchased the boat, I was never alone. There was always a woman – often more than one – who wanted to go for a sail. And yes, many times, sailing involved fucking. Partying. Blowing off steam and letting loose. It was who I was – or who I am.
Present tense.
Then why does my chest ache right over my heart when I think about it?
“I’m sure they’ll be some left to take to the newlyweds,” she says, grabbing a new spatula and removing the first batch of pancakes off the griddle. I continue to watch her work as she adds more batter and makes a second round.
