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I blink twice. “Sorry. What did you say, Mom?”
My mother sets down the rag she was using to dry the plates. She takes a step near me and lifts a soft hand, cupping my cheek. I instinctively lean into it, a small smile pulling at my lips. “I was saying that I’m sorry I wasn’t always there while you were growing up.”
My smile falters. “You were there plenty, Mom.”
“Debatable, but Todd really helped there in the last stretch. So I was saying, even after the papers are signed next week, I hope you and him continue to speak every now and then.”
My eyes flicker behind her to the stairs where Elliot disappeared. I’ve seen him trail up them a million times over, a small longing always playing at the edge of my thoughts as I watched him go. But tonight, it’s different. My heart squeezes, confliction tearing at my chest. I shouldn’t want him. Ireallyshouldn’t.
“Of course, Mom.”
Todd waves over his shoulder. “Of course, she’ll talk to me, Mary. I’m sure I’ll see her plenty, too.”
My gaze flashes back to my mom whose smile is knowing. She drops her hand and goes back to the dishes. “Yes, well. I ought to let you get to bed. I’m sure you’ll want to head out early so you don’t catch the next round of weather that’s supposed to hit.”
I groan, slipping out my phone to check the weather app. Sure enough, another wave of heavy snow is predicted to start after sunrise. “Okay.”
I spend the next few minutes helping pick up around the kitchen before Mom finally shoos me out. I give both her and Todd a hug before finally climbing the steps.
With each lift of my foot, my pulse begins to tick erratically, my stomach invaded with the same butterflies from before. I should go straight to bed. Should pretend what happened in the treehouse didn’t.
But I don’t. I can’t. I walk down the long hall, past my old room, only pausing to toss my phone and jacket on the bed, then take the turn and continue to the bathroom.
The door is open half an inch, allowing the soft yellow glow of the light to spill into the otherwise dark hallway. I imagine it is like the light of a lighthouse, the contrasting color calling the ships out at sea. My feet carry on without my permission, leading me to stand on the side, the small opening in my periphery.
My heart begins to hammer. If I turn my head, I’m likely to see Elliot’s reflection in the mirror. See every dip and rigid muscle that was pressed against my body moments ago. It’s not proper. It’s an invasion of privacy.
But the steady slap of skin and water, mixed with the frustratingly intoxicating smell that makes up Elliot leaves me no fighting chance.
I press my back against the wall and let my head loll to the right, peering into the crack. Though the steam is seeping from the open door, it fogs up most of the glass, but not enough to conceal the blurred image of Elliot. One hand is above his head, gripping the shower door so hard, his knuckles are white. His head is down, seemingly focused on something in front of him.
My core tightens as I let my eyes continue their descent, stopping to watch as his chest and abs contract with a jerky movement. It’s caused by the large hand he has wrapped around his thick cock, stroking back and forth.
I’m able to swallow the whimper that tries to escape my throat, but I can’t stop the arousal that emerges low in my belly. The desires I had earlier come back tenfold, a vengeance I’ve never known coiling around me and demanding to be acknowledged. And I want to. So badly. When I reach to grab the handle, though, another thought grips me. Something dirty and likely perverse. But the hiss that escapes him only serves to yank me closer to delirium.
Without another thought, I let my own hand trail down, and my eyes drift shut. I imagine myself in the shower with him, on my knees with his cock in my mouth. I imagine the taste, the stretch, the euphoria of being there, the hard tile unforgiving to my knees, his hand unrelenting in my hair. Commanding. Taking. Giving.
My hands unfasten my jeans, and I tug them down enough that I’m able to reach the throbbing nerves of my clit. I’m so gone, so desperate, I know it won’t take much…
Keeping my attention both on the mirror, and for sounds of someone creeping up the stairs, I slip my hand through my panties, my fingers dip lightly into my arousal before moving back to the place I need attention the most. Adrenaline flushing through me, I rub in hard, fast circles, my mind using Elliot’s muted grunts and the pace of him fucking his fist to fuel my every stroke. I picture taking him all the way to the back of my throat, tears mixing with the water raining over him, his ocean eyes raging in a storm only for me. Only I make him this feral. Make him this desperate. Only I can make him come undone.
A tight knot forms before shooting out small currents of lightning, my orgasm seconds away from incinerating me. My nipples draw tight, Elliot’s hand moves faster, and the air becomes too thin. Thoughts evaporate under the weight of the growing sensations, and when my name cuts through the door in a guttural groan, I lose what little hold I have.
My body explodes, jolt after jolt of built-up energy expelled in one swift eruption. My pussy contracts around nothing, the powerful need only growing more persistent instead of draining. So I don’t stop. I keep going, prolonging my orgasm until my legs begin to shake and my knees buckle. It’s only then I finally move and suck in a lung full of air.
Heart pounding against my ribcage, I fix my jeans and spare one last look in the bathroom. Elliot continues to shower as if neither of us just fell apart to the thought of the other, while I have to hold a hand to the wall to remain steady. Still, even with the adrenaline coursing through me, I manage to hurry back to my room undetected, both by him and anyone else in the house.
Disbelief and excitement wash through me as I grab a towel and one of the oversized sleep shirts I keep stored over in case of emergency. I should feel shame, but it’s completely absent, in its place, desire. Desire to do it again, do more.
My heart pounds as I settle on my bed. I wait in silence, though for what I’m not sure, listening to Todd and Mom’s mumbled conversation, the laughter fromFamily Feudthey turn the TV to, and soon, the shower switching off.
After taking three deep breaths, I hoist myself up and force my feet to carry me back down the hall. My heart nearly folds when a towel-clad Elliot comes into view, but instead of him or I saying anything, we pass each other like two ships in the night.
Finally, a tint of embarrassment creeps up my neck as I enter the bathroom and get undressed.
What if he heard me?
No. What if hesawme?
