Prick

"I do," he says.

Heat rushes through me at the thought of the way I'd slipped back onto his cock, despite the aching between my legs. I rode him, tentative at first, until it started to feel so good that I lost my self-consciousness, eagerly leaning forward so Caulter could close his lips around my breast, his teeth grazing the sensitive area around my nipple.

I tell myself to stop fantasizing about Caulter. But I can't help it, even now, knowing that he's right downstairs talking to my father. The fact that he's downstairs makes it even more irresistible and thrilling.

Undoing the button on my jeans, I slip them over my hips and slide my hand between my legs. My finger presses against my clit, sending warmth radiating through my body. My nipples harden against the fabric of my bra, and I slide my other hand underneath my shirt, pushing my finger between the lace bra cup and my skin.

I masturbated before Caulter, but I swear that screwing him did something to my brain; I feel completely preoccupied with sex. It's like my hormones are in overdrive. I wonder if that's what happens when everyone loses their virginity, or if it's something about Caulter that's making me a sex-crazed lunatic. Maybe Jo was right -- maybe Caulter did have some kind of magic touch.

Caulter and his magic cock. The thought would make me laugh if I weren't so damn horny. I slide my hand under the pillow on the bed, reaching for the vibrator I'd tucked in the pillowcase this morning. Pushing my jeans further down my legs, I roll the vibrator over my clit until the emptiness between my legs is too impossible to resist.

I tease my entrance with the toy as the vibrations pulse through me. It slides easily inside, aided by my wetness, and I angle it to hit my g-spot, the place Caulter seemed to be such an expert at reaching. Ignoring the buzzing of the vibrator, I imagine that it's Caulter inside me, that Caulter's mouth is on my breast; that the tip of his cock is pressing up against the walls of my *.

I imagine that it's Caulter whispering in my ear: "Your * is so slick and warm, so damn tight, the way it squeezes my cock."

It's imagining his dirty talk that pushes me over the edge, and I come quickly, my muscles clenching down around the toy. I bite my lip, cutting off the cry of pleasure that escapes, and lying back with my head on the pillow as the fluttering of my muscles slowly subsides.

I'm still so wrapped up in my thoughts about Caulter that the knock on the door makes me jump. Shit, shit, shit. Sliding the vibrator from between my legs and stuffing it underneath the pillow, I yank my pants up. I already know it's not my father, who retreats to his office working late after dinner, regardless of what day it is. When I reach the door, my heart is still thumping loudly in my chest.

"Evening, sis." Caulter stands in front of the door with a smirk on his face, and my heart sinks. I immediately stick my foot out to prevent the door from swinging open further, and cross my arms in front of my chest.

"What do you want?" My heartbeat feels practically deafening to me, matching the throbbing between my legs, a reminder of what I was just doing and who exactly I was thinking about a minute ago.

"Am I interrupting?" he asks. How long has he been standing there? I picture him outside my door, listening to me as I get off, and I'm mortified. "You look flushed. I hope you're not getting a fever."

Oh my God, he totally heard me. If I weren't flushed when I answered the door, I sure as hell was now. "I'm feeling fine. But thanks for your concern," I say, my voice sarcastic. "Nice act at dinner, by the way. I hope I didn't kick you too hard on the shin."

"Thanks for your concern." He smirks. "I'm perfectly fine. I'm sure you'll be glad to know you didn't harm me in any way."

"That's comforting," I say. "I'd have hated for you to be injured."

"You'd have to nurse me back to health if I was."

I roll my eyes. "You'd be out of luck."

Caulter leans forward, his face inches from mine. "Oh, I don't know, Kate," he says. The way he speaks the short version of my name makes me think about that night and all the things he did to me. "You have to admit, you might like having me as a patient."

I inhale sharply, almost dizzy with lust. I don't push him away. I don't tell him to leave. He's so close to me I think he can smell the sex on me.

Caulter keeps talking, his voice a sultry tone that's practically hypnotic. "Having me as your patient, lying in bed, totally at your mercy while you ride me."

His words trigger the memory of that night -- the same image in my head that made me come not two minutes ago. It's like he has some kind of weird mind-reading capability when it comes to me.

When I don't speak, he lowers his voice almost to a whisper. "I'd close my mouth around your breast and suck your nipple until you panted my name, until you begged me to slide my cock inside you."

I will myself not to think about what he's saying, but I can't stop. My lips fall apart and I'm practically panting. I put my hand on my chest, as if that will keep it from rising and falling the way it does. I think about how easy it would be to slide my hand up underneath the hem of his shirt, run my palm along his abs, around the waistband of his jeans, and just flick that button open.

Fuck. I want him.

He looks into my eyes as if he can read my thoughts, as if he's daring me to do what I'm longing to do. "Did you think about me when you came?" he whispers.

Now I push him back, hard. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He chuckles as he steps back. "I'm right next door if you need me," he says, winking. "Think about that."

I groan aloud as he walks inside his room and shuts the door. I can hear him laughing to himself - the walls in this place aren't exactly thick. In fact, they're paper thin. Sinking onto the bed, I think about how I'm about to be stuck all summer, sharing a wall with Caulter, the guy I can't stop fantasizing about.

I listen to Caulter's door open and close as he comes back from the bathroom, before I decide it's safe to go out myself. I wouldn't want to have any more surprise bathroom encounters with him.

I'm completely lying to myself.

"Morning, sunshine." I adjust the collar of my baby blue polo shirt and run my hand through my hair.

Katherine stops, mid-motion as she leaves her room, her eyes running down the length of my body. "Are you wearing a polo shirt?" she asks. "It's pastel."

I can barely suppress my grin. "Well, it is a special occasion, isn't it?" I ask. "It's the kick-off of your father's campaign and all. The big family breakfast."

"It's pastel," she says, squinting at me. "You look..."

I interrupt her, even though part of me is curious whether she's about to say I look like a complete tool in the shirt. After standing outside her door last night though, and watching how flustered she got just talking to me, I highly doubt she thinks I look like anything except sex. "It's a family breakfast," I say. "I want to look appropriate."

"You have something planned," she says? turning to reach for her doorknob. "Crap, I forgot my purse. You better not have anything planned. If you say a thing..."

I step behind her and she freezes, her hand still on the doorknob. Leaning in close to her, my lips near her neck, I speak in her ear. "Are you worried I'll tell everyone how you make those little whimpering sounds when you come?"

She shies away from me, but I can still see the hairs on the back of her neck raised up, the goose bumps that dot the length of her skin. She might pretend she hates me, but she wants me.