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Mounted above the center station on the far wall.
“Dumb,” I whispered. “Dumb.”
I still crossed to it, studying the mostly empty space—there was a small, thin black box up on the shelf that wasn’t normally there. I wanted to open it, but I exerted a modicum of self-control and didn’t—just stroked my fingertips over the smooth cardboard. Then, because I knew I was already overstepping, just by being in this room, I traced the letters of Joel’s name and forced myself to step away. Perhaps if I’d thought this through, I would have had a note to leave him. Some pithy response to his text and an addition to the allure of Billie Rose, mayor of River’s Bend.
How does she do that?
Magic, y’all.
Damn right. I had a reputation to uphold.
Maybe instead of the note, I should have brought a planner to leave him—spiral bound, just to make things interesting.
But instead, I’d cut and run.
Like usual.
You’ve gotta follow through on your responsibilities, BR.
Yup. To make matters even better, I was hearing my dad in full lecture mode.
Because I knew he wouldn’t approve of me taking four hours to reply to a text.
Sighing, I moved to the showers, yanked at the silver handle, turning on the stream of water, knowing from experience that it took a few minutes for the temperature to warm. I always chose one right in the middle of the others, the one framed by the open doorway.
BecauseIwould be framed in the open doorway.
My naked body, slick with water, breasts tipping up as I arched back to wash my hair.
Imagining Joel watching that water sluice down my skin, his eyes hot and his body hard. He would coax me out of the shower with promises of his mouth on my cunt, and he’d make me come that way before he bent me over one of the benches and fucked me.
Or I would fuckhimon that bench, sitting astride his hips, his thick cock even thicker in that position, grinding down him until I lost it, and he lost patience, thrusting up into me.
Or Joel would get naked and join me under the stream, would spin me around, pin my front against the wall and wash my hair for me.Thenhe’d fuck me.
Or Joel would get naked and slip into in the stream of water, pinning me against the cold tiles while he stroked his hands over my naked body, massaging my ass, jerking my hips back and angling them so he could finger fuck me before he fucked me with his tongue.
Or Joel would get naked and slip into the stream of water, pinning me against those tiles, angling my hips, and fucking my ass. But not messing around and fumbling, worried about hurting me. He’d do it right—thrusting into me slowly, giving me steady strokes that were a little rough, but perfectly deep. And he wouldn’t forget my clit.
My favorite fantasy, though—and clearly, I’d taken enough showers in here to have a litany of them—was when he would see me and without delay, he’d drop his bag, his keys and wallet on the carpet. He’d see me and stride right through the opening of the showers, walk fully clothed into the stream of water.
He’d drop to his knees.
My back would hit the cool tiles on the wall.
His big hand would wrap around my thigh before he lifted my leg up and over his shoulder.
And his mouth—his beautiful, glorious mouth—would devour me.
The water all around us, splattering against the material of his clothes, darkening the fabric as it clung to his skin, plastering his hair to his skull.
A huge, shattering orgasm would barrel down on me with absolutely no quarter.
Glorious.
Perfect.
I shuddered, just the fantasies leaving my legs feeling shaky, my pussy soaking.
