I SPRING AWAKE WITH a growl on my lips. Anger, pain, and lust fuel the fire burning through my veins. Remnants of the dream flash repeatedly in my mind. It felt so fucking real. So real, I can still feel the indents of her fingers on my shoulders. Even with her calling out Theo’s name at the end, my cock is as hard as steel underneath the sheet.
Dammit, it was my body that lay on top of hers. It was my lips that kissed her, and my cock that breached her tight channel. I’m a fucking fool, but damn it all to hell if I wish it wasn’t true.
Being the sick bastard that I am, I reach down for my cock and grip it tight. Pleasure instantly hits as I slowly slide my fist up and down. I close my eyes and remember the part of the dream that made my dick hard in the first place. Jules, clad only in a pair of white panties and a tank top, looking up at me with hungry eyes. It’s me she’s looking at, not him.
My hand moves faster as I picture her lustful stare and insert my name coming off her lips. It’s twisted to fantasize, but I’m too far gone to give any fucks. My imagination has a mind of its own, and it demands this fucked-up fantasy.
I imagine Jules here with me right now. Behind my eyelids, I see her in my bed and feel her hands running over my body. Her lips and tongue glide across my chest, taking little bites just hard enough to leave a mark behind. My hands explore every inch of her body that I can touch. She moans and whimpers and begs me for more.
My balls draw up with my impending release, much faster than I anticipated. I keep my imagination going, needing this release so goddamn much.
I envision lying on my back with Jules riding my cock. Her nails dig into my chest as her movements become frenzied, trying to find her release. Her hair falls around us when she bends and places her lips against mine. I grasp her hips and hold her in place as I move in a series of quick and short thrusts. I swallow her whimpers. When she sits back and grinds her clit down on my pelvic bone, her walls grip me tight. Her cries are loud and unrestrained, and it’s my name that falls from her lips.
I grunt and lift my hips, my orgasm hitting me strong and suddenly. Warm jets of come land on my stomach. I squeeze my shaft and milk every bit of my release as I can.
Sagging back against the sheets, I take a deep breath. I should feel remorse and shame at jacking off to thoughts of my brother’s wife, but I’m too drained to care. Reaching to the floor, I swipe the shirt I threw there earlier and wipe away the proof of my depravity.
I drop the shirt back to the floor and settle back against the pillow. Closing my eyes, I try to find sleep again, not altogether against having another dream like the one I just woke from, even if the end results of the dream made me want to permanently maim my brother and claim his wife as my own.
Once my body is relaxed and my mind has time to wander, I again wait for remorse to hit me. I’m surprised when it doesn’t. Only a deep-seated need takes root. A need I have no choice but to push away before I turn into a man who takes something that’s not his to have.
I FINISH UP THE FINAL touches to the butterfly tattoo I’m putting on a client. I roll back a foot on my stool and take a critical look, making sure the design came out just as I imagined. Satisfied, I set my machine down on my cart and grab a fresh napkin. Once I fold it, I spray cleaning solution on it and wipe down the tattoo. I toss that one in the trash and grab a second napkin and do it again.
“You’re done,” I tell Whitney, rolling back another couple of feet to give her room to get up. “Go check it out and let me know what you think.”
She gets up and walks over to the tall mirror. She stands sideways and smiles as she looks over the design.
“Wow, Luca. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but every time you amaze me. I fucking love it.”
When she turns back to face me, her bare tits jiggle. I’m a man, so I take notice, but I turn away after a moment. Whitney’s been a regular client of mine for a couple of years and she’s not afraid to tattoo any part of her body. This particular one is on the side of her left breast. Most women would choose to only expose that part of her body. Not Whitney though. When it was time to get started, she unashamedly whipped off her shirt. She came prepared because her bra was absent.
Knowing the drill, Whitney sits back down and lifts her arm. I apply a thin layer of all-natural ointment, then snap off my gloves. As I do with all my work, I grab my phone and snap a picture.
“You’re good to go. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll meet you out front.”
I get up and start to move away, but Whitney’s hand reaches out and snags the waistband of my jeans. I look down at her hand, then to her with raised brows.
“You know, Luca,” she purrs, and runs her hand under my shirt and over my abs. “It’s been a while since the last time we got together. How about I meet you here after the shop closes and we go back to my place?”
Not waiting for my answer, she grabs my hand and places it over her right tit. I plump the soft mound, then tweak the nipple. Her back arches and she releases a low moan. Whitney’s a beautiful woman, and we’ve fucked a few times. Our relationship works perfectly because we both know the other isn’t looking for anything serious.
Tonight, however, I’m tired as fuck and just want to go home and fall into bed.
“Not tonight, Whit.” I release her nipple. “Maybe some other time.”
Her pretty lips form a pout and she swings her legs to the side. Her feet hit the floor on either side of mine. Her hand moves to the button on my jeans and she unsnaps it. “Are you sure I can’t change your mind?” she says seductively. She slowly slides down the zipper until my hard cock falls free. Her nails run the length of it before centering in on my Prince Albert piercing. I clench my teeth to hold back a groan.
If I was a smart man, I’d take her up on her offer. Fragments of my dream last night have run through my head over and over again today. Jacking off to those images didn’t do shit for me, only stirred the desire, making it stronger. I should drag Whitney back to my place and use her body to fuck the images away, and hope like hell this infatuation goes the hell away.
But as hard as my dick is right now with Whit’s mouth only inches away, I don’t want her. It’s not her I’m thinking about stripping bare and taking. It’s not her green eyes I want staring up at me, silently begging me to give her pleasure. And it’s not Whit I want to hold afterward as we both lie in the afterglow.
Feeling warm breath on my cock, I tangle my fingers in Whitney’s hair and pull her head back. She frowns, so I bend and place a kiss against her lips. They linger against hers for a moment before I pull away.
“As tempting as it is, I’m going to pass.” I try to soften the blow by giving her some of the truth. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately, and I’m wiped. I’d be no good for you tonight.”
She smiles, but I still see the disappointment in her eyes. Her hands move away from my dick and she reaches for her shirt. I zip and rebutton my pants.
“Okay. I’ll be alone tonight, so if you change your mind, call me.”
That’s what I love about Whitney. She doesn’t let my rejection bother her.