“A bath?” My brow pulls down.
She blinks at me. “Oh, that’s okay, isn’t it? I’m super achy from what happened last night. I thought the hot water might help.” She hurriedly rushes on. “But a shower is fine, too, if you need me to be quick.”
The image of her lounging naked in the bath, her hair piled on top of her head, makes me feel the need to adjust myself. Instead, I give her a brusque nod.
“A bath is fine,” I say and turn and walk out of the room before I lose my fucking mind.
Pulling the bathroom door shut behind me, I head to my office, which is also the second bedroom, and sit heavily at my desk, my head in my hands.
There’s no way I can act on these feelings. In fact, I should push her away and right into Ace’s arms. Instead of being jealous, I should be goddamn grateful that he’s solving a problem for me.
The sound of running water rumbles from the other room, and the pipes click, the boiler humming to life. This place is not bad, but it’s cheaply built, and the walls are like paper, which means you can hear every sound. As the bath runs, she hums to herself but then for a while is quiet, until gargling makes me think she must have brushed her teeth.
It’s not long until she’s stepping into the bath, and God help me, but I picture it. Those smooth curves, and her long hair, piled on her head, or is it floating in the water behind her? Making her look like a mermaid. On autopilot, I leave my desk and walk right up to the wall adjoining the bathroom.
There’s nothing but quiet for a bit, and I slide down the wall. I sit with my head against it and close my eyes, imagining I can somehow communicate with her this way. Feel closer to her or something crazy.
There’s a gasped inhale of breath, and I open my eyes. Is she okay?
The muffled moan that follows has my dick aching. That’s the unmistakable sound of a woman’s pleasure.
Not caring any longer about how fucked up any of this is, or the fact that I busted my nut thinking about her last night, I stand and turn to face the wall. Making quick work of my zipper, I flatten one hand against the wall. I turn my head to the side and place my left ear flush to the drywall.
My free hand takes hold of my dick.
“Hhhmm.”
There it comes again. For a moment, anger hits me. Is she trying to taunt me? But no, I tell myself, she’s being far too quiet for that. She can’t know these walls are basically useless, paper-thin atrocities.
She thinks she has privacy.
I squeeze myself, hard enough to hurt a little, like I’m punishing myself for doing this, and then use my thumb to roll at the barbell piercing through the end of my cock. I grit my teeth, holding back a moan of my own. Precum leaks from the slit, and I gather it up and use it to lubricate the head. From the other side of the wall comes splashing and I wonder if she’s finger fucking herself or just rubbing her pretty little clit.
Fuck me. The thought sends my hand running up and down my length, and I clamp my eyes shut, wishing this wall didn’t exist so we were doing this together.
A million images of me filling her flick through my mind, stretching her and using her. Out of nowhere, an image takes front and center, not of me, but of Ace fucking her. She’s spread wide open and groaning as she struggles to take him, but the entire time her gaze is locked on me.I’mthe one she looks to, even while Ace fucks her.
My fist works my length faster, my grip firm as tingles race up my spine, and my balls ache with the need to come for this woman again, in such a short time. I’m leaking precum and lubing my way as I jerk myself fast and rough.
From inside the bathroom, her soft pants and muffled moans reach a crescendo. I tip right over that edge with her, and as my thighs flex and relax, I bite down on my arm to stifle my yell.
My hips jerk, and I paint the teal blue wall in rope after rope of white.Fuck. Me.
I’ve just come for the second time in the last twenty-four hours with nothing more than my own hand and the fantasy of a tight-bodied woman, young enough to be my daughter, on my mind. Worse, I pictured one of my men fucking her, and that’s… different, for me, anyway.
When I had told Camile at Vani’s party that I would tear her apart, I’d meant it as a warning, but it’s given me more orgasms since than anything else. I’m a grown-ass man, and here I am acting like a horny fucking teenager.
I don’t even watch much porn anymore because I only want to see Camile’s naked body.
I want to see her pussy stretch to take a big cock, but if I do that, I risk losing my daughter.
For a moment, I once more imagine Ace taking her while I watch. That’s not really my thing. I’ve never been all that into sharing, but maybe… if it meant I got to see Camile come undone, see her perfect body splayed open and get to stroke myself while all her secret places were on display for me, could I do it then?
It would mean Vani couldn’t be pissed at me. I wouldn’t have touched her friend. Technically.
Putting myself away and zipping up, I stare at the ruined wall in disgust at myself.
This girl has made me lose my mind. I need to get her out of here.
