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All I had to do was walk down the hall and see if the door was unlocked.
I could walk in on her… pull back the curtain and see that firm, tan body again… the water beaded on her breasts, her stomach, her thighs… take off my clothes and join her inside…
I imagined her sinking to her knees, the water washing down over both of us as she took my rock-hard cock in her –
God DAMN it.
I got up in frustration and headed to my own bedroom before she could come out and get me any more worked up.
I looked at the bathroom doorknob as I passed by. I reached out to try it… and then withdrew my hand.
Some things you’re better off not knowing, much less doing.
No matter how much you want them.
42
Icouldn’t sleep.
I kept tossing and turning in my bed, but every time I closed my eyes, she was there – naked, with her mouth slightly open, her eyes giving me that feels so good it hurts look she had every time I first slid inside her.
I imagined her on her back, nipples hard and erect, firm breasts swaying up and down against her body as I pounded her –
“GOD,” I groaned into my pillow.
I could have jacked off – I was hard as a rock and ready to go – but that just seemed goddamn pathetic, when she was only eighty feet away… lying in bed in another room… probably naked under the sheets, waiting for me to come in… slip in next to her… feel her hot, feverish skin soft under my hands…
“Fuck, I need a drink,” I muttered, and got up out of bed.
Might need three or four, actually, before my cock settled down.
I padded into the den with the lights off, then walked over to the bar. Uncorked a bottle of scotch and looked for a glass in the darkness. I don’t know why I didn’t turn the lights on – it was my fucking house, and it wasn’t like she was sleeping on the couch – but I still fumbled in the dark and knocked over a shot glass that clattered on wood.
“Shit,” I muttered, then just decided to forego the glass and stick with the bottle. I turned around –
There she was, standing in the moonlight, a .38 revolver pointed right at my head.
I froze.
As soon as she realized it was me, she lowered the gun. “I’m sorry – I couldn’t sleep, and I thought it might be…”
She trailed off, and I could see her looking me up and down, head to foot.
She had that look on her face – the one from my waking dreams. The parted lips, the expression of desire and pain, like it was hurting her just to look at me.
Christ, she was beautiful. Tousled hair dark in the shadows. Big, expressive eyes. Long, firm legs… with nothing at the top but a little bikini bottom. She’d kept on the wife beater, but taken off the bra. In the moonlight, I could see the hard tips of her nipples pressing against the cloth.
FUCK.
FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUUUUUCK.
Am I really going to do this?
…goddamn right I’m going to do this.
I couldn’t help myself. It was like putting a pile of pure, uncut Columbian cocaine in front of a drug addict and telling him not to touch.
I put the scotch back on the bar and walked over to her slowly, my eyes never leaving hers, until I was standing right in front of her.
