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His unimpressed slow blink has me inhaling sharply. “Just… preoccupied.”
“By the girl. Happens to us all,” he smiles.
“Not to me,” I retort, a growl nestled in my throat. “I’m not asevolvedas you, remember?”
“Falling in love happens to the best of us, Grey.”
I snort, frowning in incredulity. “I’m not in love,” I shoot back, barely concealed mockery hanging from the words. “I’m just… She got under my skin. That’s all. I just need to get her out of my fucking system. I didn’t end things in control and that’s what’s messed me up. That’s all there is to it.”
“Haven’t you already fucked?”
The word and its application to Indigo suddenly make me want to reach for my friend’s ankles and dangle him off his own balcony until he apologizes…
He must see the ire roughening my face for he smiles, softening his demeanor.
“We’ve had sex,” I reply.
I’m not sure that “fucked” could really apply for I didn’t drag her around the room by her hair as I wanted to, cane her ass till she’s begging me to stop and shoot my cum down her throat to finish off. By my standards, “fucking” would be a stretch for what we did that day…
And yet the memory of it returns to me more often than I want, taunting me with its unfamiliar warmth, leaving me in a state of yearning and sexual frustration that require me to shoot my load half a dozen times a day just to exorcise the memory and function.
Just about.
“Doesn’t that usually suffice to work a woman out of your system?” asks Tristan.
“Usually,” I respond in displeasure, my eyes finding the wood beneath my feet again.
“You haven’t seen her since then?”
“What is this, a Barbara Walters special?” I ask to the glimmer of mirth in his eyes. “You’d make a shitty therapist, just FYI,” I add to his chuckle of amusement. “No. I haven’t seen her.”
“Maybe you need to,” he suggests and I shake my head, wondering whether my sanctimonious need to do the right thing and spare her from me is strong enough to outmatch the torment of my desire for her, a desire now so insidious that I can barely think about her without semen leaking from my cock.
“Or,” he says with a smirk, “you could, um”—he tips his head back towards the guests—“distract yourself for the night. See if it takes the edge off.”
I don’t bother telling him I've tried that already and if it had worked, I wouldn’t be sitting here, my mind a muddle of unwanted images, my body seething in rancorous aggravation.
I tip my head forwards, my breathing accelerating as I stare at the floor. “How did this happen to me?”
“Happens to every man at some point, Grey.”
Yeah, well, I’m not like every man. I’m not a slave to my fucking feelings like everyone else.
“We always told you it would happen to you when you least expected it,” he adds, flashing me a wide grin as I tip my head up.
“That’s not what this is,” I respond through gritted teeth. “It’s just… something I need to work through and end in control. That’s all.”
“Sure. And, um, are you gonna practise on Shawna?”
So that’s the blonde’s name…
I glance through the glass of the balcony door to find her peering in our direction, her fuck-me stare leaving me cold.
“Make sure she gets home okay,” I respond, turning to look at him. “I’m gonna have to make an early departure. I hope you don't mind, friend.”
“Not one bit. But, um, going anywhere special?” His bright-eyed smirk calms the tornado whipping through my torso.
I answer truthfully. “I don’t know yet.”
