The water hits me like a punch. My breath leaves my body in a harsh exhale. I brace both hands against the tile and let it run over my shoulders, down my chest, over my back.
The scars on my back react the way they always do—tightening, pulling, the sensation sharp even under cold. Like my skin remembers fire no matter what temperature I give it.
Good. Let it hurt. At least when it’s hurting it stops me remembering.
I close my eyes and see her anyway. Her face, close. Her brows drawn like she was mad at me and still couldn’t stop herself. Her mouth parting before she kissed me. The way she smelled of vanilla and coconut.
My pulse trips.
My body reacts in a way I can’t control, even as the water runs cold enough to numb me, my cock is hard.
I press my forehead to the tile.
“Stop,” I mutter, like I’m talking to myself. Like I’m talking to my body. Like either of them listen.
But the image doesn’t leave, it gets more vivid and my head fills in things I don’t have any right imagining.
Fawnie in my room. Fawnie on my bed. Her eyes looking at me all dark and lust-filled rather than with pity.
That wasn’t a pity kiss.
The way she kissed me. It was tender, it was sweet. Those lips.
Ah fuck.
My hand slides down my stomach without thinking, chasing sensation just to prove I can still feel something besides pain. It’s not gentle. Nothing about me is gentle. I grip my cock and slide my hand down the shaft.
What would her lips feel like wrapped around me?
Her mouth hot and wet.
Fawnie taking me in deep.
I work myself faster, imaging her on her knees in front of me. Her cheeks hollowed as I fuck her face. Her eyes watering as she opens for me.
God I’m a sick bastard. This woman is being kind and here I am jerking off in the shower to thoughts of her. I try and push it out of my mind. My hand gripping tighter, my other hand flat on the wall.
Would she moan. What would she taste like?
That image does it. Me on my knees, her legs parted, her pussy glistening and wet. Lapping her seam, tasting her honey and sucking her clit while she squirms under me.
I’m close, my breath is heaving as I stroke harder. I brace my hand against the tiles and let my mind go. She’s tight, her walls gripping me, milking me, as I thrust in harder. I can see her head thrown back, her lips parted as she comes.
That does it. I come in hot jets, painting the tiles with my release.
When it’s over, the shame settles heavy in my gut. I stand there under the freezing water, breathing hard, feeling like I’ve stolen something I had no right to.
I shut the water off and grab a towel, scrubbing my hair harder than necessary. If she wants to try and get closer, I’ll remind her I’m not the hero she thinks I am. I’ll make it easier for her to forget about me. That’s the smart thing.
I turn off the light and head for the bedroom. In the dark, though, I can still feel her mouth on mine.
I’m fucked.
Chapter 10
Fawnie
In the end, I asked my dad to come over to my place because I thought it would be the most private, best neutral ground that we would find.
