“You’re such a terrible liar.”
“I said, I don’t want you,” I reply sharply, trying to keep my voice firm.
“Open the fucking door, Amelia.” His harsh whisper from behind the door somehow makes me even more painfully turned on.
I’m so embarrassed.
I don’t want him to have this much power over me.
“I said no. You’re a jerk.”
He chuckles darkly, sending more heat down there. “Fine, be a brat. I’m not going to fight over this.”
Hearing his footsteps leave from the other side of the door, I hover over the sink and grip the counter, breathing in deeply through my nose. I let out a shaky breath.
Get yourself under control, Amelia. You’re just turned on.
More turned on than you’ve ever been in your entire life …
Deciding I need a nice, cool shower, I remove all of my clothes and hop into the tub. I not only need to rinse away this painful ache, but also the day’s worth of sweat from the concert. Which went well, but now, my oldest brother refuses to even look my way.
Like the dance was even my idea.
I stay under the rainfall shower until I start shivering and my teeth chatter. Drying my body with a towel, I do my nighttime routine slower than normal. Braiding my damp hair, I put on a cropped white shirt and a pair of booty shorts, knowing if he wakes up in the middle of the night and sees them, he’ll feel exactly how he left me.
I hope he does.
Finding him in the same position as he was last night, I get into bed beside him, but I don’t bother building my little wall again.
The old Amelia who put everyone before herself is no longer here.
She’s dead.
* * *
I don’t know how long I’ve been lying here in the darkness with sleep refusing to take over my body. But it feels like hours. I toss and turn and glare at the sleeping man beside me, holding back my craving to punch him in the face several times.
After staring at the ceiling, my eyes close as the thought of Levi takes over. Wondering if he stays awake and thinks of me as he masturbates. I can’t take this intolerable ache in my core anymore. I’ve tried to ignore it, but sleeping beside him isn’t helping at all. Lying on my side, I look over my shoulder, I find his tatted back toward me. His breathing is even and soft, confirming he’s deep in sleep.
I shouldn’t masturbate in the same bed as him. That’s wrong and risky, but he drives me crazy. It seems my “punishment” for him is torture for myself as well. I should’ve thought about this more clearly without lust and anger fogging up my brain.
Dragging my hand down my stomach, I inch past my underwear and find myself extremely wet. I almost choke at the intensity as I play with my bud, imagining my fingers are Levi’s. Goose bumps rise on my skin as I think of Levi and his dirty mouth. What would he say if he saw me right now? Trying to keep my breathing as quiet as possible so I don’t wake him up, I slide two fingers down my slit and push them in myself. I bite my lip to hold back a moan as my body takes my fingers easily. That’s how wet I am.
I pump in and out softly and slowly, trying to be discreet while a ball forms in the pit of my stomach and my toes curl.
I’m so close.
Oh my God.
I’m getting off, imagining the man sleeping beside me is pumping his cock in and out of me at a rough pace that would have me scooting across the bed at the force. I’ve officially gone crazy. A couple of months ago, when this man wasn’t in my life, I wouldn’t have even thought of masturbating in the same room as anyone.
Pushing in another finger as my other hand plays with my hardened nipple, I bite my lip to hold back a groan in this quiet room.
I stop breathing, making my lungs burn, like I’m suddenly frozen when the man beside me turns in his sleep and groans huskily into the darkness.
“I see you’re loosening that pretty little pussy of yours so you can take my cock,” a breathy yet firm voice says from behind me, scaring the shit out of me.
I glance at him over my shoulder and find him leaning on his arm, staring right where my arm has disappeared under the covers.
