My back arched and I fell backward in the sand, giving everything to her because she’d finally touched me. Finally willingly, on her own damn merit, touched me.
This was a dream. I hadn’t woken up yet.
I’m still sleeping.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
I’d wanted this with every atom in my body. I didn’t deserve to get what I wanted. Estelle would never touch me without the secretive boundaries of slumber. Why should I push away a fantasy when it brought fleeting happiness?
I shouldn’t.
I won’t.
Her hand moved toward the Velcro of my board-shorts, ripping apart the fly and pushing her hand into my underwearless crotch.
The kids.
Screw, the kids.
This was a dream...and if it wasn’t...they could watch, for all I cared. My sainthood had been revoked, and I was nothing but raging blood and throbbing pressure and hissing fuse to the largest explosion in history.
Estelle touched me.
And her fingers felt a thousand times better on my naked flesh. Stars burst behind my eyes as she stroked my length.
Her touch caused paralysis. Her touch caused every sense to belong to her.
Only her.
Some part of my brain that was still human tried one last time to stop whatever she was doing.
I garbled nonsense, I half-heartedly shifted my hips, but her long hair tickled my exposed belly as she shook her head.
“No...no more thinking. Just relax. Let me do this for you.” Her lips whispered over mine as she bent over me, her hand working up and down, swirling around. Her thumb, shit, her thumb, found my crown, pressing hard on the sensitive tip, stealing the moisture she found there and smearing it down the shaft. “Let me return what you did for me.”
Fantasy.
Nightmare.
Hallucination.
Or was this death? Some cruel joke by the devil before sending me packing to Hell?
My left hand clutched the sand as I rode out the most intense hand job I’d ever experienced while my right thrust into her hair and smashed her lips against mine.
I needed this. I needed to come. So. Damn. Badly.
I’d serviced myself a few times over the past few months but that had been a necessity to rid the heavy ache in my balls. But this...hell this was pure utopia.
My breathing turned ragged as Estelle’s hand worked harder. She wasn’t messing around. She wasn’t there to tease me. She was there to make me come. Fast and efficient. A donation.
A charity orgasm.
If I weren’t so far gone, I would’ve hated her for that. I would’ve pushed her away—no matter how incredible she worked me. I wouldn’t have put up with such underhanded manipulation.
But I wasn’t in the right head space.
I’d fallen for a girl who didn’t want me and barely accepted my friendship. If she wanted to pity hand-job me, then fine, I’d take what I could get.
My hands clutched her hair, kissing her harder, deeper, giving up and thrusting over and over into her palm.
She let me.
Her fingers tightened, giving me the perfect noose to jack off into. Her thumb swirled around my crown and her spare hand vanished between my legs to play with my balls.
Everything she did was utterly perfect. It was as if she’d been born knowing my code. That she’d hacked every part of my anatomy and owned me.
“I love touching you like this, G.” Her whisper fed my starving lungs.
I couldn’t hold off anymore.
Every muscle jerked, tightening to the point of cramp.
My balls became bombs; my cock the cannon.
I came.
And came.
And came all over her hand and my stomach.
I trembled and twitched as she kept going, milking my extremely sensitive body. I grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
Breathing hard, I slowly came back to earth and opened my eyes.
I stared at her.
She stared back.
No words were spoken but we knew.
We knew that this couldn’t be ignored.
Wordlessly, she stood, rinsed her hands in the fuselage we kept topped with seawater and crawled into her bed.
She went to sleep with her back facing me.
But I stayed awake until morning, alternating between shock and sedation. Thankfulness and plotting.
All rules were broken.
She said it was returning the favour.
I called it asking for trouble.
She’d been the one to touch me.
Now, I would be the one to touch her.
Chapter Thirty-Five
...............................................
E S T E L L E
......
I buckled. I submitted. No, I gave in.
Feeling you come apart. Watching you fall apart. Listening to you break apart.
It makes me want you so much more. Too much more. Terrifyingly more.
I failed. I lost. No, I finally let myself win.
Taken from the notepad of E.E.
...
WHAT WAS I thinking?
The sun had risen an hour ago, and still, I slept on my side, facing away from Galloway. Every time I thought about what I’d done in the dark, my body flushed, my nipples ached, and the tingle of a desperately needed release drove me insane.
The way he’d given in to me.
The way he smelled of cedar and liquorice even though he hadn’t used shampoo or aftershave in weeks.