What if he gets fed up with all my broken pieces and damaged parts and leaves me behind? I’m already a mess, I’m not sure I could survive any more.
Dean finishes up and then plates our food, sliding my bowl over to me as he takes the stool beside mine, close enough that his thigh brushes against me. We eat in a companionable silence, his body close, the warmth of him wrapping around me. My heart hasn’t stopped galloping, my body is a mess of knots. When we’re done, I make a point of getting up to clean, since sitting still and so close is only leaving me fidgety.
I feel his eyes watching, studying. Heat creeps down my neck, onto my chest, before it settles in my stomach, twisting me up.
“Sloane,” His deep voice startles me.
I look over my shoulder at him, I can see the way his eyes are heated, which only makes it worse.
“Yes?” I squeak.
“You seem tense,” His head cocks to the side as his eyes dip down me.
“I’m fine,” The high-pitched tone of my voice suggests otherwise.
One side of his mouth kicks up, the lopsided grin playful. “All you have to do is ask, Butterfly.”
I swear this man can read my mind.
“You know, I think I’m just going to turn in early,” I swallow, “Grab a shower and catch up on some reading.”
“Oh yeah?” He smirks.
“Mmhmm,” I clear my throat and fake a yawn.
One dark smudge of a brow quirks, and I feel his eyes on me as I leave the room, followed by his deep, husky chuckle that adds to the heat.
I am in so much trouble here.
I shower quickly, bundling all my hair onto my head so it doesn’t get wet, but my skin is too sensitive, I feel like I’m burning all over. Changing into a long night tee, I forgo underwear and climb under the sheets, grabbing my book and opening it to the last page I was reading. But I just end up reading the same line over and over, unable to focus as I listen to him moving around next door. He must have come up while I was in the shower. The bed knocks against the wall, and I can just see him, stretched out on his bed, his pants low, those ripped abdominals flexing as he gets comfortable. I can see one arm resting above his head, glasses on, as he looks down at his laptop.
I groan and drop the book, reaching beneath the pillow for the silver vibrator I stored there after I unpacked all my things. I twist it to a low hum, the vibration soft enough that it won’t be heard next door, and slip it between my legs, pressing it to my clit.
The initial touch has me jolting against the mattress, a gasp leaving me, but I quickly bite my tongue, my eyes rolling back as pleasure works through me.
It’s been such a long fucking time; I haven’t even touched myself, and this feels like bliss. I ease the vibrating tip over my clit, adding a little pressure since it’s not at the setting I usually like.
I let my knees fall apart, and with my other hand, I slip it closer to my entrance, teasing it inside me but not fully penetrating. It feels good, but it’s just not quite enough.
He won’t hear, will he? If I just…
I turn the vibrator up and stifle the moan that wants to escape. My legs shake as it pulses against me, building and building and…
It doesn’t crest.
“Come on,” I beg in a whisper. I’m so turned on, practically fucking dripping, but it’s just not hitting. I could cry.
I twist it up to the final setting, hopefully it’ll be quick, and I can release and then make up some bullshit excuse about the noise.
But now I’m too tense, too worked up, and tight to enjoy it. It isn’t fucking working. I need this. I need to not feel like I’m about to explode.
For five minutes I try, I try to force myself to relax, try to coax it with soft strokes, but nothing works. I’mactuallygoing to cry.
Switching the vibrator off, I groan, and then the door slams open and Dean fills the frame.
Chapter Thirty-one
She gasps, scrambling to cover herself with the sheets, but I’m way past that. Listening to that vibrator, her soft moans, but I know she didn’t get herself there. Not if the frustrated groan that left her only a few seconds ago is anything to go by.
