The biggest part of me wants to say fuck it and give in to her. But the other wants to take the next flight home. Oddly, I feel safe enough to be imperfect, and I don’t know what to do with that revelation.
I’m also horny and can imagine pretty fucking clearly all the ways Collie could satisfy my every craving. Because I’m craving her in a way that has the potential to damage us both in the end.
If I touched her, I’m not sure I could stop.
It’s been too long. Sydney and I slept together less than five times, if that. I know that fact would surprise most people if they knew. We tried to fill the physical aspect that was missing. But somehow, it never felt the way we both knew it should, yet we still ignored it.
Almost two years of ignoring it. Pretending to be what we needed for each other, despite knowing it all felt wrong. Living a life you never wanted feels a lot like imprisoning yourself.
Essentially, it is.
I forget all that when I’m around my fake wife. My eyes can’t help but follow the slope of Collie’s chest as she sleeps beside me—with a pillow between us. Fuck that pillow. Her small tits rising and falling in beat with her breath. I’m confident if the thick blanket covering her were to slip just a little lower, I’d find nipples hardened to sharp peaks, begging me to touch them. Suck them between my lips until she squirms with need for me.
I know this is the way I should have felt about the woman I was set to marry.
I adjust my cock, feeling like a sick fuck just knowing where my thoughts are with her. But there’s something about Collie that tells me she wouldn’t stop me. She’d urge me to touch myself and let her watch.
She propositioned me, and I won’t sleep another minute until I’ve fully processed that.
Just when I get my cock to calm down, Collie wiggles slightly, that godforsaken blanket slipping just like I predicted, revealing the most perfect set of tits beneath her long-sleeve V-neck.
Shit. I should get up and go do something. Something productive like make breakfast, fish, jump off a cliff—anything but stare.
But I can’t. I’m zoned in on the way her back arches and her body searches for something. Warmth, maybe? It’s when her hands slide from under the covers and rest at the peaks of her breasts that my breath hitches.
My mouth turns dry as, on instinct, Collie pinches her hardened nipples over her shirt. A soft moan escapes her lips on impact, and my eyes roll to the back of my head, dying to feel them for myself.
Just a touch.
“Mmmm,” her quiet voice murmurs deliriously.
My hand covers my cock, and I’m ashamed. Not enough to stop, though. This is the high I’ve craved over the last two years. The high I once chased with Sydney, thinking she could feed it. But she couldn’t. The need to fucking come. My body is in overdrive, dying to feel just an ounce of forbidden pleasure.
Collie is my satisfaction. The instrument fine-tuning me. Bringing me back to a place of unwavering confidence.
“Easton.”
I freeze. She just said my name. While touching herself. Holy shit. Am I dreaming?
God, I want to touch her. Replace her hands with mine and let her nipples rid me of any mercy. But I slip my hand in my sweatpants instead and grip my length with a strong tug. Fuck, that feels good. Better if Collie were the one touching me, but it’ll do for now.
I train my focus on the way her bottom lip pulls between her teeth, a quivering inhale the only sound I hear between us.
“Please,” Collie moans.
I stroke my length, the shamefulness behind me now as I fall in sync with her pleasure. Collie lets go of her nipples, but only to hold the fullness of her tits between her palms. Her hips buck at the sensation, and my strokes quicken, the need to come at an all-time high.
All it took was Collie moaning my name, and I was a goner. Done for, without a single care for what anyone thinks. I know it’ll come back to haunt me, but right now, I’m not sure I could stop even if she caught me.
My cock aches, and I intend to enjoy the view.
The moment one of her hands slips beneath the blanket, I know where it’s headed. Straight to her pretty pussy. The pussy I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing, but can only imagine how fucking ripe and perfect it is.
My insides tighten as I grip myself at the root and run my fist to the tip with a relaxed stroke.
“Mmmm. Just like that,” she whimpers, and that’s all it takes.
Collie fingering herself might just be the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed. One stroke later, I’m coming in my sweats, body seizing beneath my blanket as I watch her touch herself.
