“What are you doing?” She asks, staring up at me.
“What are you doing?” I fire back, panting. My shirt is clinging to me and she’s sitting there on the floor with the towel sitting on her lap, and her breasts on full display. Fuck me, she’s beautiful.
Her teeth scrape over her bottom lip as her eyes move down my body to my hard cock.
No. No, no, no. I cannot fuck her.
“You… put a towel on.”
“What? I put a towel on?” she asks, confused.
“No. Put a towel on.” I motion to the one sitting on her lap and then to her breasts. She needs to cover them up, because if not, I may lose all control and take her right now. I’ve wanted to sink my cock into her since I first laid eyes on her. Fuck that. Since I felt her presence.
“Oh. Goddess. Right. Fuck.” She quickly pulls her towel up.
“You…” I start, but can’t seem to formulate thoughts. Images of her perky little breasts bouncing while she rides my cock play on repeat in my head.
“What’s so hard?” She grunts. “To say. What’s so hard to say?”
“You were… masturbating.”
Her entire body flushes pink.
“I…”
“You’re in a house of supers.”
“So you heard…”
“Yes.”
“Which is why you…”
“Yes.”
“Oh, fuck.” Her head falls into her hands.
What do I do? Do I try to console her? That’s not going to fucking work. If I so much as touch a hair on her body, I’m going to fuck her. Self-control has never been a problem for me, but with her… My wet hair is dripping into my face, so I run my fingers through it, pushing it back.
“Fuck,” she mumbles out.
When I look down, I find her eyes staring appreciatively at my body. I’ve worked hard for it and have taken great effort and time with how I mark it up. I have fifty-three tattoos, some small, some larger, but each is important, telling the story of me and my history. Battles I’ve fought in and friends I’ve lost. While I’m not immortal, I feel like it sometimes. My body is my greatest artwork, a key to who I am, so that I may never forget.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispers.
Space. Space and distance. I turn to leave, but my manners will not let me leave her on the floor. Offering her my hand, she slips hers in mine and I lift her. Her touch causes a wave of ecstasy to spread across my skin. She wobbles and I catch her, causing her breasts to brush across my chest.
She moans and I’m frozen. Our eyes lock on one another, breathing each other in. My hand brushes the wet hair from her face before my fingertips slide down the curve of her jaw and rest under her chin. I lift just the slightest, giving me better access to those perfectly pouty lips.
Her hand slides up my chest before inching down slowly. Further and further, her eyes never breaking from mine. Her hand presses against my stomach and slips beneath the hem of my joggers.
I know I should move. I know I should stop her, but I’m frozen in place. I’m curious to know what it will feel like with her hand wrapped around it. Her mouth.
My cock twitches.
She slips her hand down further and glides it along my shaft and an appreciative moan escapes my chest.
Her hand wraps around the length and slides up.
