She winks. “Don’t think about me while you’re in there.” And then she retreats to the guest shower.
Don’t fucking think of her?
Next to impossible.
I make a beeline for my bedroom, and once I’m inside, I rip my towel off, go straight to the shower, and flip on the water. I step in, gather some soap in my hand, and then perch my arm against the tile as I grip my hard dick and stroke.
“Fuck,” I moan quietly.
Don’t think about me?
How could I fucking not?
For the past hour and a half, I’ve been suffering through blue balls as I watched her squat, experienced her stretched out in my sauna, beads of sweat dripping down her soft skin, then getting a show of her ass as she walked away, all tight and high, begging for my hands . . . for my cock.
“Fuck me,” I mutter and pump harder.
Ollie in her crop tops, no bra . . . nipples hard.
Ollie in that dress from her fundraiser and her phenomenal tits.
Ollie in her workout outfit . . .
I pump harder, my balls already beginning to tighten.
I bite down on my lip, my impending orgasm seconds away.
Don’t be fucking loud.
Don’t be . . .
“Oh . . . God.” I hear through the bathroom vent, causing my eyes to nearly pop open. Was that Ollie?
It had to be.
Is she, fuck, is she getting off too?
Just the thought of her touching herself in my apartment has me gripping my cock tighter and shooting right over the edge.
I bite down on my forearm as I come all over the shower tile.
My entire body shakes as I steady myself and push off the wall. I slip under the hot water and let it drip down my body as I think about how that was the first time I jacked off to Ollie. And how it won’t be the last.
************************************
OLLIE
Ollie: What are you up to?
Silas: Stretching my quads.
Ollie: So, riveting stuff, huh?
Silas: Very.
Ollie: Well, I have nothing going on, and I figured since you don’t have anything going on either, we could make some of our story a reality.
Silas: Why am I now scared?
Ollie: Don’t be. But if you’re up for it, come pick me up at my dorm in thirty.
Silas: So . . . I’m going to have to pick you up? How is that fair? Aren’t you the one asking me to do something?
Ollie: It’s not fair. See you in thirty, don’t be late.
Silas: Can I at least ask what the hell we’re doing?
Ollie: I’ll tell you when you pick me up. Now, move along.
* * *
“Hey,”I say as I hop in Silas’s car and shut the door. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans, a white shirt, and a denim long-sleeved jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, as well as a very Silas-like scowl. “What’s with the face?” I ask, pressing my fingers to the furrow in his brow.
“What’s with those shorts?”
I glance down at my shorts and back up at him. “Uh . . . nothing.”
“They look like underwear.”
“Could you imagine?” I laugh and buckle up. “God, that would be uncomfortable.” I tug on the sleeves of my cardigan and smile at him.
“Ollie,” he says in a dark, unamused tone.
“What?” I ask, and he gives me a look I don’t appreciate. “I can see that you’re trying to be a controlling asshole at the moment, so I’m going to give you a good ten seconds to change that attitude before I rip you a new one.”
“I’m not trying to be a controlling asshole. I just think those shorts are really short, and if we go somewhere in public, we will have pictures taken of us. Do you want those shorts plastered everywhere?”
“Sure, why not?” I say so nonchalantly that I know it’s killing him. “If people want to stare at my ass, that’s their prerogative. But this bodysuit is comfortable, these shorts are comfortable, and this cardigan gives me all the warmth from the breeze blowing through Vancouver today. Now, unless you have something nice to say, I think we should just forget we had this conversation and move forward.”
He grips the steering wheel tightly, the veins in the back of his hand bulging. “Fine, we can forget it.”
Wow, he’s so convincing. Who knew he would care so much about freaking shorts.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask. “It looks like you’re about to crack a molar.”
“It’s fine. Just tell me where we’re going,” he responds on a defeated sigh.
I turn in my seat, plaster a large smile on my face, and say, “The zoo.”
His head tilts back and presses against the headrest as he silently says, “Jesus Christ.”
I shake his arm. “Come on. It’ll be fun. And when we say we’ve been to the zoo together, this won’t be a lie anymore. And you know you’re curious about the donkeys.”
“I’m really not.” He looks at the watch on his wrist and says, “And actually, I just remembered I have somewhere I need to be.”
“Liar.” I push at his shoulder. “It will be my treat. I’ll even get you chicken tenders.”
He puts the car in drive. “Wow, I’m really winning today.”
* * *
“Areyou really going to be grumpy this whole time?” I ask Silas as I pull him to the side, allowing people to pass us.
“I’m not grumpy,” he says, looking down at his zoo map.
“Uh, yes, you are. You barely spoke to me in the car. You grumbled under your breath when I tried to pay, then slapped my hand away, flinging my credit card to the ground—”
“That was an accident.”
“And now you’re practically trying to insert yourself in that map.”
“I’m looking for the tiger section. I like them.”
I lift his chin with my finger so he’s forced to look at me. “What’s the deal?”
His tongue slips over his teeth before he says, “Are we just going to ignore the fact that you showed me your ass the other day and now you’re in those shorts . . . are you trying to break me?”
“That’s what you’re mad about?”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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