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Opening the window of my room, I let the cool spring breeze hit me with the fresh morning air. That's when I see him doing laps in the pool like a professional swimmer. I sit on the cushion next to my window and watch him as he makes love with water. With every strong hit his arm makes on the pool's surface, the water surrenders to his wil
l. He looks like a shark from where I watch him; dangerous but graceful in his moves.
When he stops at the end of the pool again, he pulls himself up instead of doing another lap. The water reaches for him like it can't get enough of his body. But he steps out of the pool and stands on the marble floor like a god. I gasp when I see his body out of the clothes, only in a pair of swimming shorts. He looks more built than I thought he was. His muscles bulging even from a distance. Black ink covers both his arms. The black shorts he's wearing hugs his legs and sticks to his crotch with the wetness of material. Biting my lip, I watch as he grabs a towel and dries his skin like a porn special to me.
He towels off his hair and not even my dad's high standard barber would do the messy look better. When he turns to go inside the guesthouse, I see there's a big eagle on his back with its wings open. God, he looks dangerously delicious. I stand from where I'm sitting to close the window. But just when I think he'll step inside, he looks over his shoulder directly to my window. I can imagine the fire in his eyes like he's staring right into my soul. And I see the smirk on his face. I can almost swear he winks at me before he closes the door and disappears from my sight.
I have a desperate urge to run into the guesthouse and join him in the shower I'm sure he'll be heading into, but instead I walk toward my own bathroom.
As the water falls over me, I caress my body with leisure. Let myself imagine it's him that touches me with the hunger I feel deep in my bones. It's him who pushes his fingers through the folds of my pussy. It's his body making me pant with pleasure.
When I finally get out, my body is flush and glowing with satisfaction. After putting on my school uniform, I walk out of my room to the corridor and stop not taking my usual route in the house. Today I don't feel the need to visit the rooms to prove my loneliness to myself once more. This morning, I don't feel alone.
"Miss Faye, your guest, asks if you'd like to join him for breakfast," the maid tells me.
I look at her. She's one of the three maids in the house. She seems to be around my age. Her red hair is tight in a low bun, she's wearing the standard maid uniform with a pencil skirt and a white shirt.
“What's your name?” I blurt out.
She seems surprised by the question. I can't blame her. I just smile at her reaction.
“Jessica.”
“Nice to meet you, Jessica. You can call me Eva,” I say, causing her shock to grow. “And is he in the dining room?”
She schools her expression quickly. “No, he's in the guesthouse Miss, I mean Eva.”
I nod and walk away with a smile on my face. My parents can’t forbid me to be friends with them while they don't bother to be home. I don't know why I live with that fucking rule for so fucking long even though I know it’s stupid and let them punish me for something I can't be held responsible for.
Shaking my head, I head for the guest house. Elijah is sitting on the porch with his laptop open in front of him. His torso is bare except the ink that covers it like a canvas. As I can't take my eyes away from him, I think being close to him is a bad idea. But just like a drug, instead of putting distance I walk faster to get close to him.
14
Elijah
I'm an asshole. A masochist one probably.
Seriously, I have to be. No other reason makes sense for me to put both of us in this position. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't help but want to see her look at me the way she watched me from that window. I felt her arousal as intense as my own, I felt her need just as hungry as mine.
This is a bad idea. Big trouble. But I can't silence my imagination or control my dick when I think about her. And dammit if I'm not thinking about her non-stop since she crashed into my life with one step inside that classroom. And like that's not enough she looks different today. She doesn't wear a button-down that gives me the beautiful view I want to frame forever in my mind. Instead, she's wearing a black t-shirt that hugs her tits and somehow making the whole look even sexier than cleavage. But it's not the change of her clothes that makes my cock hard in my jeans. It's her. The way she stands. The way her eyes look brighter. Her cheeks are rosy, her skin is glowing, and her steps are bubbly. Like the air around her changed entirely since yesterday.
Fuck if I don't like that.
I like this sight of her.
I like it a lot.
I want to think I have a play in the change in her.
She’s like a flower. With a little attention, she blooms to perfection.
And I'm already thinking about how she'd look if I made her come over and over again. Satisfaction would look good on her. Fuck, everything would look good on her.
My mouth. My cum. My body...
Dammit, Elijah.
“Good morning,” she finally breaks the silence that's probably been awkward with me checking her out and imagining her naked.
