I can’t tell her that she’s the first person in two years that I’ve wanted to be around, much less invite into my home. I can’t tell her that I ran away from my life back in Atlanta because of what happened. I can’t tell her who I am. I can’t tell her that when I came out of the bathroom yesterday to find that she’d left already, my first instinct was to panic, that I had to force myself to wait a few hours before taking her room key back to her.
I had thought about her walking alone back to Miss Dawn’s place and I flew down my steps three separate times, stopping myself each time. I was worried about someone following her. I was worried that if there was a reporter waiting for an opportunity to catch a picture or two, that my presence with her would only throw her to the wolves. She’s running from life back home just like I am. I can’t drag her into my nightmare. I don’t know how I expect to do it, but I’ll protect her from my life back in Atlanta and hers too.
When she left yesterday, I wanted nothing more than to find a way to get her back to my house, and it wasn’t just because of my cock. I don’t fully understand it, but I want her here. I want her safe. I can’t lie and say that I don’t have selfish motives too. I do. She’d left yesterday and after I decided on staying put for a few hours, I found myself sitting at my computer and googling “Sadie Parker + Atlanta.”
Multiple search results popped up. Newspaper articles about her and her husband, the fallen police officer. I skipped over those articles, deciding that my nerves were way to fucking frayed to read about what happened to her. The thought of her being hurt in any way made my blood boil. I found a link to her social media page and clicked on that. I was routed to a page that was obviously abandoned. The privacy settings let me scroll through everything freely. Condolence after condolence cluttered her page. It took me a while but I finally found her last post.
Starla Winters has flown the coop again. Crazy cat! If any of you in the neighborhood see Her Majesty out and about please call or just swing by. Thanks, friends!
“Starla?” I muttered to myself. What the fuck kind of name is that for a cat? Sounds like a stripper that I fucked in the VIP room once. I scrunched up my eyebrows trying to remember her name. “Starla? Sharla? Scarla? Scarlet? Charlotte? Fuck.” They all sounded familiar, if I was being honest. I’d seen my fair share of bare asses and legs spread wide to accommodate me.
I clicked on her profile picture and her face filled my computer screen. My breath caught up in my throat at the sight of a woman smiling wide for the camera. Her chocolate brown eyes were lit up like I had imagined they would. The Sadie Parker that I met on the beach was a distant cousin to the woman on my screen. Both of them were stunning, but somehow Sadie’s grief made her even more gorgeous to me.
Growing warmth dragged my eyes from admiring the woman on my screen. I glanced down at myself feeling like a much bigger piece of shit for having a hard on while looking at her picture. My cock twitched and throbbed in my shorts. The sensation was hard to ignore.
I stood from my desk, taking one more look back at Sadie on my screen and made my way to my bathroom. It had been so long since I’d done it. Even longer since I’d been buried in the hot, tight wetness of a woman.
I grabbed what I needed from the bathroom without looking at myself in the mirror. I still felt like a bag of dicks for doing it, but I couldn’t resist. I needed that release. I dropped my shorts and sat on the edge of my bed. My cock was rock hard and jolted subtly in sync with my pulse. I put the lubricant in the palm of my hand and curled my fingers around myself. My eyes slipped shut and I shuddered. I took one tentative stroke from the tip of my cock all the way down to my balls, where my other hand was massaging them. My next breath came as a hiss. My hand was hot, but not nearly as hot as the inside of a woman. My grip tightened around my cock. Strokes became faster and shorter. My jaw clenched shut. I could feel my cock get harder and swell. My shoulders quaked. My abdomen flexed tightly and my hips thrust forward, looking for a woman.
Looking for Sadie.
Hot spurts of cum jetted from the tip of my cock. I jolted and quivered then sunk down onto my bed, trying hard to catch my breath.
I had expected that getting myself off would be what I wanted, what I needed, but the second that I came down from the momentary high of release, I felt even needier than before. I wanted so badly to see her there with me. It’s Sadie that I wanted to be buried in, not my fucking hand. I wanted to see her beneath me, safe and cared for. I wanted to care for her body like I want to care for her heart. Careful, devoted, focused, undivided. I wanted to watch her fall apart beneath me in hopes that maybe I can help her feel a little more together. I wanted to watch her watching me as I spilled into her.
I had only made myself even hungrier for the one widow that is the most wrong to want.