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Lying back on my pillows, I slip my hand underneath the comforter and sheet and slide it down my stomach. The closer I get to my pussy, the heavier my breathing becomes. Images of Spencer pop into my head, and I let my mind run wild.
Spencer with his head between my legs, lapping up all the juices that leak from me.
Him grabbing my hair from behind, forcing my head back to look at him as he fucks me hard.
Guiding my head as I suck his cock deep inside my mouth.
I run my fingers between my pussy lips, gathering moisture, and move them up to my clit. A moan rushes past my lips and my back arches off the bed.
Spencer sitting in his office chair stroking his cock while I sit in front of him on his desk. My legs are spread wide, and I’m shoving a couple of fingers in my hole.
Him grabbing me the moment I walk in the door after school and fucking me against the wall because he can’t wait.
One hand continues to work on my clit while I use the other to insert a finger inside my pussy. I’m so wet, it’s sure to leave a mess behind on my sheets. I should ask Spencer to wash them for me to see if he notices it.
Scenario after scenario filters through my mind, each one making me hotter and hotter. My moans become louder, and I know he has to hear them through the wall. I want him to know what I’m doing in here. To be tempted to join me.
My hips lift off the bed, and a loud cry slips past my lips. I’d give almost anything for Spencer to be the one fucking me with his fingers right now. They’re bigger than mine, and I wonder how many I could take.
My fingers work faster against my clit, and it doesn’t take long before my orgasm hits. My stomach quivers, my back bows, and I let out a long moan.
My eyes drift open, and I release a contented sigh as I slowly come back down to earth. Once I finally get Spencer in my bed, I know it’ll be much better than any orgasm I can give to myself.
As I settle down further in my bed, my eyes move to the wall behind the headboard, a smirk curving up my lips. There’s no way he couldn’t have heard me. I can just imagine the glare on his face as he shoots daggers at the wall.
I hope he has a hard time going to sleep tonight, and when he finally does, his dreams are filled with me and what I was doing only a few feet away from him.
Chapter 3
SPENCER
Finishing off my coffee, I dump the empty cup in the trash can on the sidewalk outside the church. It’s my third cup for today, but they haven’t done shit to help wake me up. I didn’t get a lick of sleep last night thanks to Aleah and her late-night activities. The whole incident lasted less than thirty minutes, so I had plenty of time to fall asleep. The problem was, every time I closed my eyes, images of Aleah in her bed with her legs spread wide as she played with herself flashed through my mind.
It was pure fucking torture.
I could have easily gone to her room to tell her to knock that shit off, but I was afraid of what I would walk into, and what my reaction would be. And a tiny part of me, a part I refuse to acknowledge, liked what I was hearing. I have no doubt she was getting herself off to thoughts of me. She hasn’t outright said she wants me to fuck her, but she’s let me know with her actions. No words are needed.
Several times I stopped myself from grabbing my cock and stroking it as I listened to the little sexy sounds coming from the other side of our shared wall, but I refused to give into her game. I knew what she was up to. I’m a thread away from making her move bedrooms.
I snap myself out of my thoughts of last night and drag my ass up the front steps to the church. This is my fourth visit in the last couple of weeks. Someone keeps breaking into the church. More specifically, a young girl. Father Adair has tried catching her, but she somehow manages to escape him each time.
The old door creaks when I push it open. A few people sit in the pews, their heads bent as they whisper their prayers to the man upstairs. I find Father Adair at the front of the hall talking quietly with one of his parishioners. It takes him a moment to notice me, and when he does, he excuses himself.
He holds his hand out to me and we shake. “Spencer, thank you for coming.”
I’ve known Wesley Adair since he was a toddler. He’s another long-time friend of my son. It surprised us all when he suddenly decided to give his life to the church twelve years ago. I still have a hard time seeing him in his clergy attire, especially with the tattoos that cover his arms underneath his sleeves.
I get right to the point of me being here.
“Is it the same girl as last time?”
“I’m afraid so.” He gestures with his hand to follow him. “And once again, she took food from the pantry.”
He walks me back to a room I’ve become familiar with lately. It’s the one that holds the food that’s donated to the church to pass along to the less fortunate.
“She didn’t take much,” Wesley continues. “Only a few cans of vegetables and fruit.”
I pull out the little notebook I always keep with me and write down what he’s told me. It’s the same thing every time I come here. The girl never takes a lot. Just enough to probably feed herself.
