Fuck!
I scrub my hand down my face, and then run my fingers through my hair, squeezing my head in my hands like a big pimple that’s ready to burst. That’s not the only thing that’s ready to burst.
I’ve never been as fucking turned on as I am right now. Kit was wet, and warm, and she was willing. She would have let me fuck her right here on the countertop if I’d said yes. I know she would have. And she wouldn’t have had any regrets. But I would. Although right now, I’m rethinking my decision to put her outside the door. I reach for the handle and get ready to turn it so I can beckon her back into the room, but I jerk my hand back.
I desperately needed to take that look off her face, and the only thing I could think of was to put her mind on something else. But now I can’t get my mind off the look on her face when she came. Or how tightly she gripped my finger when she trembled. Good God, that girl can undo me.
My junk is so hard I could pound nails with it.
The door vibrates as someone pounds on it. Probably Paul telling me to hurry up so I won’t be late for work. But my dick’s so hard that I can barely stand up straight, much less walk.
I run my hands through my hair again. Deep breaths.
Shit. I’ll never get out of here this way.
I take a towel from under the sink and lay it in front of me, and unzip my jeans. This won’t take but a second. Because I know I’ll think about her while I do it. I spit into my palm and take the head of my dick in my hand, pulling away from me with a tight grip.
God, I’ll never get the sight of her coming out of my mind. She’d cried out once. I’m sure of it. I could feel her throat move through the side of my cheek. It was a soft vibration, and it happened when she started to squeeze around my finger.
It only takes a few pulls, and I rise up on my tiptoes, spilling onto the towel on the sink. I think about how it would feel to be inside her right now, and my balls lift up tight against my body as I come. Oh, God. God, I want to be inside her so bad.
I sink back down onto my heels, spent. I lean heavily against the door, trying to catch my breath. The door shakes with the pounding of a heavy fist. I wash my hands, and throw the towel in the hamper. Shit. I’m glad I did that. But I wish it had happened differently.
I tuck myself back into my jeans, and I’m still semi-hard, but not so hard that I can’t walk. I open the door, and Paul greets me with an arched brow. “Better?” he asks, grinning.
Fuck you, dumbass, I sign.
“Fuck you,” he repeats, laughing. “Oh, wait. You already got fucked.” He tilts his head at me. “How was it?”
I jerk him into the bathroom with me. I didn’t fuck her.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, tell it to someone who couldn’t hear her crying out in here.” He pushes against my chest playfully. “Next time, warn a guy so he can leave. That shit was loud.”
What was loud? I’m confused.
Very dramatically, he signs, “Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Logan! Logan! Logan!” He punches me again. This time it hurts. I rub at the spot. “That shit would have been hot if it hadn’t been my brother on the other side of the door. As it was, it was just awkward.”
I couldn’t hear her. Sorry. I am. Well, sort of.
“No shit,” he says. He’s looking very closely at me. “You all right?”
I nod. Then I shake my head. Fuck, I don’t know.
“What’s wrong?”
She’s making me crazy, man. Stark-fucking crazy.
“You just got laid, and you’re complaining?” He waves his hands in dismissal. “I don’t even want to hear it. Do you know how long it’s been for me? Shit, asshole. You don’t get to be all torn up inside when you just got some.”
I didn’t get any.
“Shut up. And stop rubbing it in.”
I run a frustrated hand through my hair and close my eyes.
He taps my chest with his open palm, forcing me to open my eyes. “Wait. You’re serious.”
I nod. I said something stupid to her. She was crushed. And it was all my fault.
“So...” he prompts
So, I wanted to make her feel better. I’m not giving you details.
“It’s like you’re being re—virginized. That shit’s fucked up.” He has this mock look of abjection on his face.
I can’t hold back my grin. Tell me about it.
“You’re going to be late for work,” Paul warns.
Shit. I am going to be late for work. I run out of the bathroom just as Hayley runs in. Paul picks her up and dances around with her in his arms. He has her every other Friday until the next Friday. And he loves every second of it.
Pete’s standing beside Kit in the living room. “You ready?” he asks.
Kit’s shuffling from foot to foot, avoiding my eyes. I walk over to her, tip her face up to mine and kiss her. It’s a kiss full of promises of what could be. And what’s not possible yet. She’s breathless and clutching my shoulders when I pull back. “Thank you,” she says. She signs it at the same time and my heart swells.