The feel of her hair is still on my fingers, the way it slipped between them, as soft as silk and the way that soft moan sounded in the small room, remembering it is enough to get me fucking hard.
“Wrong,” I snap at myself as I slam the door shut to my condo. Darkness greets me inside and I don’tbother with the lights.
There’s something fucking wrong with me.
I don’t bother to change out of my clothes, just strip off the shirt and head straight for the gym, stretching as I go. It’s not enough and I need more to warm up, but I need to get these fucking thoughts out of my head.
I grab the weights and head straight for the bench, my spine hitting it far harder than necessary and then I start the reps.
It’s become a punishment over a workout, the strain I put on my body and burn in my muscles the only way I know how to pay penance.
My breath hisses through my teeth with each rep, my palms aching with how hard I grip the weights, but I keep going.
And even with each curl of my arms, and every hard thump of my heart, I still see her.
I don’t deserve it.
I don’t deserve her.
I cannot have her.
It is wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong!
The weights slam against the floor, the noise echoingthrough the room as I rip myself up from the bench and storm through the house, toward the bathroom where I slap my hand on the button for the shower and get inside, clothes still on.
It’s ice cold initially, cooling my overheated body before it warms up. I stand under it, head tilted to the tiles under my feet as water cascades over my head, catching in my lashes and the corners of my mouth. I eventually strip from my clothes, shame running through me.
She makes me fucking hard.
I’m still hard.
She is haunting me.
My best friend’s little sister.
Gripping my cock at the base, I jerk it once, breath hissing from my teeth at the pleasure that zaps down my spine. I see her hair running through my fingers, can hear that moan but then I picture wrapping those gold strands around my hand, pulling her head back to extend her delicate throat, her moans and her whimpers like music calling to the deepest, darkest parts of my soul.
A groan slips from my lips as my hand works my shaft, my hips working in tandem as the pleasure builds and builds. I can see her beneath me, her thighs spread, her cunt stretched open with me deep inside of her. I see her face twisted in ecstasy, tanned skin slick with sweat.
My arm snatches out to steady me as my knees wobble, my teeth clamping together hard enough I’m surprised I don’t chip a fucking tooth as I continue to fuck my hand with Savannah front and center in my mind.
My tiny dancer.
My drug.
My ruin.
The tips of my fingers curl into the unforgiving tile, the pain a bite I welcome but it’s not enough. I cannot stop, pumping my hand harder and faster as I chase my climax. It is right there, so close. My skin prickles as all my muscles pull taut and a deep moan echoes back to me as my hand jerks me once, twice, movement erratic and when I finally get there, the climax hitting me like a freight train I turn my head up to the spray, letting it steal my breath as my come hits the tiles before the water washes it away.
Spent and sated for now, I stare toward the floor, where the water swirls around the drain except watching it wash away doesn’t alleviate my shame or my guilt.
The temptation of the forbidden is a sweetness I am finding hard to resist but I know, to fall into that desire, to fulfil those fantasies would be to devastate us both. All that would be left is the embers of us burning within the ashes.
Chapter Six
