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The image of Amelia in her underwear wouldn’t leave my mind.
She had looked so fucking hot, pursing her lips into a little kiss shape. Reminding me of how good she had been for me. How perfect she was.
I was getting hard just thinking about her sweet, supple body. Her soft lips and hungry kisses. Her round ass and her breasts, covered by my hands.
Palming at my cock, I remembered our first night together in the car. How she had taken me so well, relaxing and stretching to fit me, then coming twice for me. She was so sensitive to my touch, so receptive to having my body inside her.
She was a dream come true.
Now rock hard, I stroked myself to the thought of her long legs, her limber body, her skin that always smelled like vanilla perfume and fresh soap.
I imagined her in the workout room when she fell apart on my tongue. I remembered her lips around my cock, so wet and warm, eager to please me and learn what I liked.
Moving faster up and down my shaft, I braced myself against the tile with my left hand, palm splayed out wide on the shower wall. A bead of precum leaked out of my cockhead, and I pulled it downward with my thumb, shuddering at the thought of how she had been ready to let me finish in her mouth.
It was when I began fantasizing about having her in my bed at home that I started to lose my senses. The idea of Amelia, naked and squirming in my sheets, pussy wet and needful. Amelia, body pressed up against the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the ocean on a moonlit night, me taking her from behind as she cried out in pleasure. Amelia, begging me to fuck her, sayingplease, whining my name.
Fuck.
Two more rough pulls–Amelia, Amelia–and I was coming hard, spurts of hot white fluid shooting from my cock to coat the marble tiles as I panted and heaved through my release.
I rarely came so intensely when I was pleasuring myself. It was the mental image of Amelia, the thoughts of all the things we had done and still hadn’t tried yet, that pushed me over the edge.
After getting cleaned up and toweling off, I brought my Scotch back to the bedroom with me and got into bed, finally sleepy and sated.
I took a final sip of Scotch to warm my lips. Then, I grimaced, my thoughts wandering back to the last person I had shared a Scotch with.
David.
Chapter 13
Amelia
Ihad been looking forward to dinner at my parents’ house. Both of my sisters would be there, and Larissa and I hadn’t seen Melinda since my mom’s birthday dinner. I wanted to hear about Melinda’s new job at a wellness spa, which had sounded promising when she told us about it a few weeks ago.
All my life, I had been close with my sisters. We used to braid lanyard bracelets, selling them for a buck apiece and calling ourselves The Weaver Sisters–the height of creativity, we thought at the time. When we were in high school, once Melinda was eighteen, we got permission to go camping alone in Joshua Tree National Park. I was afraid of scorpions the entire time, but still had a blast. We had spent every birthday, every holiday together as a group. When I graduated from high school and went backpacking around Europe, Larissa and Melinda were right by my side.
Over the years, we had stayed tight knit, usually talking every couple of days, whether on the phone or text, on top of getting together most weekends and many weeknights.
Except, during the last year, I hadn’t seen quite as much of them as I used to.
Melinda had been in a serious relationship that fell apart, and now that she was picking up the pieces, her new position at the spa kept her busy. I went straight from school into my new job, which had me exhausted by the end of the workday, forgoing my usual nights out when we would all usually meet up for margaritas and gossip. Even Larissa, who I shared an apartment with along with her friend Trudy, could be hard to pin down between her private training of clients and her extreme sports adventures.
Part of me wanted to tell my sisters everything about Nathaniel and me. About how important he was becoming to me, about the sizzling chemistry between us, as if he were just any guy I met while dating… except he wasn’t. He was our father’s best friend, and as swept up as I was in the feelings I had been developing for him, revealing to anyone in my family that I was dating Nathaniel Dean was completely off limits.
I would need some more time to figure out how to broach that subject… if it ever came up. Besides, it was all so new. This thing between Nathaniel and me had started as a magnetic, animal attraction, and while we had spent some time together outside of the bedroom, we were hardly in an official, long-term relationship.
He didn’t seem like he really did long-term relationships, as far as I could tell.
Although I wondered if that would always be the case.
Larissa and I had driven to our parents’ house in Mission Valley separately, since she was coming straight from an ironman triathlon training day. I arrived just as she was pulling up in her Jeep, rounding into the circular driveway just behind my Miata. Melinda was already there, talking on her cell phone outside the front door, but she quickly pocketed the phone to give us both a hug and walk inside with us.
When we headed into the house, our mom and dad were busy in the kitchen. So the three of us girls had a chance to chat in the formal sitting room while we waited, comfy on the plush couches but far enough away from the familiar noise of our parents going back and forth.
Unlike the flowery speeches and public shows of affection, Mom and Dad were back to their usual snippy banter. They were bickering and squabbling over petty things, as usual.
Despite the unpleasant atmosphere coming from the other side of the house, I was still glad to be there. It would be nice to be able to spend some time together as a family. Even if our family wasn’t exactly picture perfect.
