I replay them all until I’m back on when he pinned me with a look in the shower and fingered me to a drunken orgasm.
Had I known then what I know now, I would have dragged him into the shower with me.
There’s no way this is just a crush fueled by how hot he is. It has to be something deeper.
So deep that I eventually roll onto my stomach as heat beads between my legs and as I shove my face into my pillow, my own fingers become his in my mind. My mind flips like a yo-yo.
Would he fuck me hard or soft? Fast or slow? Would he pin me down and make me take every inch of his cock or would he hold me close and ease himself inside me, savoring every second it takes to get fully sheathed inside me?
One fantasy is exactly that.
His arms around me and his face close to mine, his eyes rolling as he slips deeper and deeper inside me while whispering in my ear about how he can’t believe he’s finally getting a chance to feel how hot I am, how tight I am.
I imagine his hands on my breasts, tweaking my nipples while he kisses my neck, then I imagine him utterly losing himself andburying his face in my breasts while moaning that I’m the best he’s ever had.
My fingers work quickly, thrusting inside myself while the heel of my hand presses against my clit. From this angle, I brace on my knees and grind my hips into my hand as pleasure coils and grows inside me.
The closer I get to orgasm, the more frantic my fantasy becomes. Falco stops being slow and pins my wrists to the bed, fucking into me with wild abandon as if his very life depends on it.
Sinful words pour from his lips as I imagine him fucking me like a blur, then his hand on my throat and his other pawing at my breast.
He’s got stamina.
He’d fuck me from behind. Upside down. Against the wall. Against a tree, in the hot tub, on the kitchen counter, over the porch banister and?—
I come hard over my fingers, squealing into my pillow as strong waves of pleasure pulse through my core and send warmth to every corner of my body.
Fuck.
22
FALCO
Sleep escapes me.
The cabin itself is too unfamiliar with its creaking walls, settling floors and windows that, despite their apparent bulletproof nature, are warped with age.
I keep myself busy by washing up the dishes, scrubbing the oven after cooking, and washing every single utensil in the drawers.
If I’m not busy, I start to think.
Thinking leads me to Aerin.
And Aerin leads me down a path of no return.
I’ve never doubted my strength in any regard. I’ve fought in wars, engaged in vicious hand-to-hand combat, survived torture on both sides of the line, even been buried alive, and kept my wits about me in order to survive.
But when Aerin stepped outside in that swimsuit, her entire body wrapped up in tight, flesh-toned material with her hair scooped up and flowing around her face?
Never have I felt so weak.
Those poor fish didn’t know what hit them as I fought to keep control of my thoughts and my urges all while keeping up the facade that everything is completely fine.
Inside, I was a wreck.
Jealous of the water wrapping around her, the bubbles kissing her skin and the strands of hair lightly touching her shoulders. It should be me. I want it to be me.
Breaking down would give me one fantastic, glorious night with her, and it would be completely worth the wrath Guido would rain down on me the moment he found out. It’s a miracle he doesn’t know what I did to her in the shower.
