My body aches with the familiar strain of a workout but also with something else. A yearning. As I wash my body with his bar of soap, I cave and imagine his hands in place of my own. My movements slow, no longer focused on the act of cleaning myself but rather on indulging the very dirty thoughts running through my mind.
I turn to let the water caress my breasts as I feel the rest of my skin. All too easily, I imagine the touch of my hands being his.
Over the curve of my hip, up to my breasts, pinching myself, scraping my nails down my side, and finally, finally, allowing my fingers to pass through my labia again.
My knees almost buckle when I connect with my swollen clit and I brace myself against the tile.
My head falls forward and I curl into the pressure my fingers are creating as they rub swiftly up and down a millimeter in each direction on my clit.
My knees twitch again as I picture Miguel on his working me with his mouth and his hands.
His VO2Max conditioning benefiting us both when he doesn't need to come up for air.
Suddenly the image morphs and Miguel is behind me with a firm grip on my hips, drilling into me at a punishing pace.
My head whips back as I work myself closer and closer to the finish line, the water of the shower continuing to crash over my body.
Imagination Miguel grips my hair and tugs firmly as he drives into me and that final image does me in. “Miguel. Yes…” I can’t help but praise his efforts out loud.
My legs tremble as I tumble over the edge and freefall through my orgasm. Slowly, after the crescendo calms, my breathing returns to normal, the sparks in my vision clear, and I rinse one last time before stepping out.
I sling a towel around my body and I stare into the mirror. The flush on my cheeks is a tell tale sign of my activities. I’ll need to cool it down before I join Miguel for dinner.
Except, shoot.
I glance down at my bikini sitting on top of my now thoroughly damp t-shirt in a pile on the floor.
I didn’t bring a change of clothes since this dinner invitation was a last minute demand.
I wonder how Miguel would react if I walked out of here looking freshly (self) fucked in his clothing?
I scrunch my hair dry with the towel before braiding it back. Then I find the things I need in his dresser and walk down the hall following the smell of grilled meat and vegetables.
Chapter fourteen
Miguel
Show and a Dinner
Holyshit,shefingeredherself in my shower. I went to check on her after she'd been gone for a while. The powderroom door was wide open so I poked my head into my bathroom. I froze when I saw her reflection in the mirror.
Forearm braced on the wall to hold her up. Head thrown back in ecstasy. Her other hand disappearing between her legs. Her shoulder flexing as she rubbed herself in my shower.
The steam and condensation on the glass did little to obscure my view. I drank in every stunning inch of her and nearly cracked a molar holding myself back.
When her breathing shuddered and she whispered a word that sounded suspiciously like my own name I backed out of the room. In a daze, I returned to the kitchen and chugged a glass of water.
When really, I’m craving something much stronger.
And that is why Laney is dangerous. She makes me want to lose control.
I can't let that happen.
I’ve worked too hard, for too long, and have kept myself in line. I’ve excelled physically and have mastered my mental demons.
I am a new man but Laney Mattenson threatens it all.
Am I willing to risk the years of improvement for a woman?
