Page 41 of Under His Guard

I haven’t soaked my bandages too much, and I can always ask Clara for help with some new ones.

Even just that thought of Clara is enough to make my blood start buzzing, imagining the water of her own shower gracefully sliding over her skin, causing my dick to jump.

So, I wrap my hand around the base of my shaft and begin to stroke upward.

This is better than having a hard-on around her. It’ll keep me sane.

I’m well aware I’m trying to make myself feel better, but it doesn’t really matter as I begin to work my slick length.

Dripping precum already, I roll my hand around the head of my cock while I reach down and squeeze my balls with the other.

I need that lick of pain to ensure I’m not just edging myself, and in seconds, I’m fucking into my hand, wishing it was Clara’s tight pussy.

Seeing her behind my closed lids, I picture licking the droplets off those perky nipples of hers, following them down the slight curves of her body.

I fantasize about her pleasuring herself in there, her fingers working her pussy as she leans against the wall, just like I am.

My cock twitches in my grip, wanting Clara so damn badly.

Rolling down to the base, I squeeze tight, doing the same to my sack.

I groan to no one as I feel the pulse pounding in my shaft.

When I thrust again, I pretend it’s into Clara’s slick folds. I imagine I’m sinking into her up to the hilt and rocking the head against her G-spot.

I love her strength, the way she’s not afraid to admit this entire situation is fucked.

That sharp sense of humor, her smile, every bit of Clara is irresistible.

And I really want to taste her. I want to fuck her until neither of us remember our names.

Burning courses through my veins as my orgasm approaches. It’s in that moment, the moment where a single wrong move could kill everything and leave me beyond frustrated, that I imagine coating those sweet little peaks of hers with my come.

I lose it, soaring off the edge.

“Fucking hell, Clara.”

The words are a whisper as I shoot jets of my seed onto the shower wall in a feverish stream. It takes all my strength, and I pump my hand to milk every last drop.

I’m damn exhausted now, and I pull down the sprayer to rinse off my cock, my hand, and of course, the wall I’ve just decorated instead of Clara’s tight body.

But it’s something. It’s better than what it was.

“Okay, get some food.”

Stepping out of the shower, I snag a towel and rub it across myself before wrapping it around my waist.

I’ll definitely need help with new bandages, but for now, I’m content to just stay shirtless and let the injury dry.

I swipe a hand across the foggy mirror, taking a look at myself.

Sure, I’m still fighting the signs of lingering fatigue, but I’m much better than I was earlier.

At least, less desperately horny.

I’m not sure what Clara will be up to since she’s got some time off, so I just pad out into the kitchen, waiting to decide what to eat once I’ve determined what I have on hand.

The lights are still on when I get out there, which makes me think Clara must’ve gone into the kitchen earlier, deactivating the trigger to shut them out when the smart sensors don’t detect anyone in the room.

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