And as much as I deny it, I wanted it too—alcohol or not.
What is wrong with me?!
With a desperate whimper, I eventually move to my building and go up to my apartment in a sour mood. Once in my room, I see Kate’s sleepy form on my bed, tucked under the covers. Like a fucking idiot, I accidentally slam my shin on the corner of my bed, waking her up.
“Deedee, is that you? What time is it?” her sleepy voice asks as she reaches for the lamp on her nightstand.
“Shh… It’s late, go back to sleep.”
Light floods the bedroom regardless, and fuck my life. I know exactly what she’ll think because I saw myself in the elevator’s mirror. I look like I just had sex.
“Shut up,” I order in anticipation. “Don’t say it. Don’t even think about it. Just go back to sleep.”
“Well, at least I know you didn’t get laid, or you’d be more relaxed.”
As I gather what I need for my shower, she sleepily adds, “Did he trip and his tongue slipped down your throat?”
“You aren’t nearly as funny as you think you are, Katherine.”
“I’m hilarious. You’re just too frustrated to appreciate it. Take Idris with you. I don’t want you to hump me during the night.”
“Fuck you,” I say as I head to the door with my stuff.
“I love you too.”
In the bathroom, I avoid my reflection in the mirror. I strip, throw the dress in the laundry basket, and wince at how sticky my thong is. Lex definitely left with some of me smeared on the front of his pants.
I hop in the shower, eager to erase all traces of him from my body. My moves are practical and efficient, soaping and scrubbing. They become more delicate when I reach the space between my legs. The simple gesture of my hand wiping away the wetness gathered there sends jolts of pleasure through my spine. Fuck, taking Idris with me wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Feeling like a hypocrite, I roll a couple of fingers over my aching clit and close my eyes to think ofhim.
We’re back in his car, and I relive the moment we were interrupted. Except this time, the drunk group never passes by, so no one stops us from continuing.
In my fantasy, he opens his pants and wiggles them down just enough to free his cock, which juts out with enthusiasm. Imaginary Andrea seizes it, tugs her panties to the side, and then slowly comes down on him, impaling herself on his sinfully hard flesh. I shiver against the cold tiles of the shower, imagining myself bouncing up and down his dick, bracing my arm against the roof of the car to take all of him, gazing into his darkened irises.
With my eyes still closed, I bite my lip and intensify the rhythm of my fingers, feeling the tension build up inside me. Back in my fantasy, he undoes the tie at my neck to pull down the upper part of my dress while I keep fucking him with increasing momentum. I can still remember with accuracy the sensation of his hand on my breast, the way he gently pinched its taut tip. In my fantasy, though, he bends down to take my nipple in his warm mouth.
My climax takes me by surprise, exploding before I can envision the imaginary couple reaching theirs. I tremble and jolt, holding back my moans as I find my release.
It’s good. It’s exquisite, even.
But the sweet ache of it isn’t enough. Not even close. When I open my eyes, the cold light of the bathroom harshly throws me back into reality, and all the pleasure goes down the drain with the water washing over me.
I shouldn’t keep doing this, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Alexander Coleman has a direct line to my libido, and I’ve never come so easily in my life than when I think of him. I’m so pathetic.
On Monday, I’ll be back with him. But not in the way I crave because I love this job too much to risk it over sex.
Not even sex with him.
Chapter 14
Pretending everything is okay when my life is falling apart is unexpectedly easy. But maybe it’s because Kate and Tami get along well, and we spend the weekend focusing on ourselves with self-care. They even drag me to a proper salon where I get a bikini wax because shaving isn’t apparently enough.
The girls insist that it’s “just in case” my date with Oli goes well. I know nothing will happen, but they refuse to hear it.
I forgot how much that shit hurt, and as I’m holding my knees against my chest so the technician can work her magicwaydown there, I wonder why the fuck we do this to ourselves.
My blonde friend hasn’t peeped a word about Friday evening’s events, but I know she’s dying to hear some details. Kate is too smart not to have figured out what happened, but she understands the matter isn’t funny or up for debate.
