I don’t bother going into my room, turning instead toward the bathroom. If I can just get in the shower before my thoughts run off without me, I’ll be able to get a hold of myself.
No matter how perfect Everett felt on top of me, my worries haven’t changed. He’s still my client, and I could still lose my job for doing this.
I sigh in relief as I step into the bathroom, already stripping out of my clothes as I kick the door shut behind me. Within moments, my clothes lie in a heap on the floor, and I’m bare in front of the mirror. A rush of heat slams into my gut when I see the marks Everett left on my chest. There’s a tiny red spot where he nipped at my collarbone and two blooming bruises from his mouth just below my breast.
My fingers shake as I raise them to trace over the marks, and I can’t keep my exhale steady. I can still feel him on me, the warmth of his hands, the scratch of his beard. He took me apart at the seams with nothing but his tongue, and my body is wound tight and aching.
I bite the inside of my cheek and tear my eyes away from my reflection so I can focus on starting the shower.
As soon as the water heats, I step under the spray and groan at how good it feels against my skin. I may prefer my little apartment in the city, but Everett definitely has me beat on water pressure.
And the view.
I stand under the water for a long moment, trying fruitlessly to convince myself to just take a shower and wash the entire day away. My body seems to be dead-set on ignoring me, though, because the longer I stand here, the more aware of every inchof my skin I become. I trace my fingers down my stomach, following the path Everett’s mouth took earlier, and I cup my breast in my other hand.
As soon as my thumb brushes over my nipple, I give up all pretense of forgetting.
I’m more worked up than I’ve ever been in my entire life, and I need some form of relief. I don’t know how long Everett will be gone, and I have no clue how I’d go about seducing him anyway, so I’ll have to make do with my own fingers for now.
With the taste of Everett still lingering on my lips, I have a feeling I won’t be let down.
I shudder as I slip my fingers between my thighs, rubbing slowly over my clit as my eyes fall closed. I’m still soaked from Everett’s tongue, and it doesn’t take me long to work myself back into a frenzy. The memory of his voice, rough and hungry as he asked me to let him taste me, is so fresh that I swear I can almost hear it. My legs tremble, and I lean back against the shower wall for stability as I tease my clit.
I’m already shaking by the time I slide two fingers into myself.
As soon as the thought of what Everett would feel like inside of me crosses my mind, my orgasm brutally slams into me. I bite my lip to stop from shouting out Everett’s name. My eyes roll back in my head. I take deep breaths of the humid air as I hurtle over the edge, my hips jolting in oversensitivity with every slight movement.
I’m exhausted and wrung out when I pull my hands away from my body, well-sated but still searching for more. For Everett.
It’s not the all-consuming need that plagued me on the ride back, having settled into a more manageable simmer, so I refocus my attention on actually taking a shower. I’m not aboutto waste hot water and the nice guest soaps just because I can’t get my mind off of Everett.
No, once my shower is done,, I’m going to refocus on work. I’ll figure out how to deal with whatever is happening between me and Everett afterward.
Maybe I’ll take a nap before I deal with all of that, though.
I truly am exhausted.
I joltawake at the sound of a knock at my door.
It takes me a moment to orient myself and remember where I am, the drapes still open and showcasing the stretch of pastures. They’re drenched in the silvery light of the moon, and I blink blearily at the sight as I regain consciousness.
Another knock, quieter, makes me sit upright. There’s only one person who would be knocking on my door this late at night.
My heart immediately starts to pound, and I feel a bit like I’m sleepwalking as I slip out from beneath the covers. I can see a shadow in front of my door, watching it shift as I make my way closer.
Everett’s eyes go wide when I open the door, almost like he’d expected me to ignore him.
Like I ever could.
The soft light of the hallway behind him renders him little more than a silhouette. It makes him look soft. That could also be because he’s in pajamas instead of his rugged work clothes. The well-worn flannel pants and old tee that stretches just right over his shoulders are testing every last shred of my patience. Whatever the reason, the look on his face makes my fingers itch to touch him again.
“Everett?”
My voice is quiet in the dark of the hall, not wanting to break the silence of the hour even though I know there’s no one else around to hear. He flinches at the sound of his own name, seeming to come back to himself.
“Mary,” he says, just as softly.
He’s said my name before, but it tears through me this time like a wildfire.
