She stiffens. “Is that so?”
Of course,I mean to say.
But I can’t. Lying doesn’t come easy to me, and I realize I’d be lying. I wasn’t when I stepped behind her and said it was to protect her. But now that we’re pressed body to body with her back against my front? Yeah, I’d be lying.
Christ, I wish she weren’t wearing that perfume!
I wish her trench coat were thicker. I wish I’d buttoned mine, anything to dull the feel of her rounded, perfect backside nestled snugly against my cock. My stirring cock.
Powerless to stop it, I suffer silently through my body’s blatant disobedience of my will.
Did something move on the balcony?
I shoot a hopeful look up, but no, there’s nothing. The doors remain shut. No one’s coming out yet.
Damn it!
I think about numbers. Prime sequences. Polynomial equations. A detailed mental sketch of Fermat’s last theorem.
But nothing helps. The pressure between us only increases as more people pack in.
Eva tilts her head slightly. “You OK back there?”
Her voice is low. Amused.
She must’ve noticed. One would have to be unconscious to miss a hard-on like this.
“Thanks, I’m fine,” I grunt.
“You sound tense.”
She’s playing with me, the vixen!
I grind my teeth. “All good. You?”
“I feel very… well shielded. Thank you, Alex!”
She knows, no question.
I hate that she knows.
One day,I tell myself,I’ll remember this moment and laugh about it.
The situation is objectively funny. I put myself into it, and now I’m stuck with nowhere to retreat. There isn’t an inch of space to claw back from the crowd to separate me from Eva.
We wait in silence for a few more minutes. I’ve given up on suppressing my erection. All my energy is focused on fighting the urge to press myself harder against her, to push, to rub…
I can’t believe this is happening!
I’ve regressed to a teenager or, worse, turned into a desperate incel. I’m embarrassing myself in front of my number one rival, who’s prepared to fight me dirty and hard.
My cock twitches as the phrase “dirty and hard” sparks a salacious image—one that features Eva.
Amid my turmoil, a part of me can’t help but admire the composure Eva shows in this situation. She knows I have nowhere to retreat. I’m guessing she understands that I regret my ill-considered gesture that was meant to be gentlemanly but ended up being quite the opposite. If she didn’t, she’d have shamed me for it, or stepped on my foot, or jabbed me in the ribs with an elbow, or headbutted me backward.
But she’s done none of those things. She just stands within my embrace, a little stiff, and pokes gentle fun at me. Her heart beats fast. I can feel it through my arms, wrapped around her.
Given her long-standing distaste for me, compounded by our current antagonism over the duchy, she must loathe this situation. But she keeps her cool.
