Page 29

Used to want it every day. Used to crave that connection, that intimacy, that feeling of being desired. With Cole, I lost interest fast. Started finding excuses. Too tired. Too stressed. Not in the mood.

Cole tried to pressure me. Many times. But I never caved. And thankfully, god, thankfully, he never forced me. That was the one line he never crossed.

But now, sitting here in Gabriel's clothes listening to the shower run, I can feel myself getting wet. Can feel my pussy starting to drip with lust I haven't felt in months.

This is crazy.

This is shameless.

But my hand is already sliding down the front of the sweatpants before I can talk myself out of it.

I'm not wearing underwear, had to go without since my only pair was filthy. The fabric is soft against my bare skin as I slip my hand inside.

Touch myself gently. Just exploring at first.

I'm so wet already. Slick and swollen and sensitive in a way I'd almost forgotten. I bite my lip to stay quiet. Press my fingers against my clit and circle slowly. Tease myself. Build the pressure.

Close my eyes and let myself imagine.

Gabriel's hands instead of mine. Gabriel's body pressing me into the mattress. Gabriel's mouth on my neck, my breasts, between my thighs.

What would he feel like inside me? How would those muscles flex as he fucked me? Would he be gentle or rough? Would he talk or stay silent?

Would he want someone like me? Chubby and so goddamn broken?

I add more pressure. Circle faster. My hips rock slightly against my hand. The shower is still running. He's still in there. Still has no idea what I'm doing out here.

My breathing gets heavier. I have to bite down harder on my lip to keep from making noise. Slide two fingers inside myself. God, I'm so wet. So ready. So desperate for something I can't even name.

Fuck myself slowly. Curl my fingers the way I know I like. Rub my clit with my thumb.

Build and build and build toward something that feels dangerously close.

In my mind, it's Gabriel doing this to me. Gabriel's fingers inside me. Gabriel's voice in my ear telling me I'm beautiful, I'm wanted, I'm worth protecting.

I'm so close. Right on the edge. My thighs are shaking. My pussy is clenching around my fingers.

The water stops.

I freeze.

Pull my hand out of the sweatpants like I've been burned. Wipe my fingers quickly on the sheets. Try to slow my breathing. Try to look normal.

Try not to feel like the most shameless person alive.

What the fuck was I thinking?

He's an ex-priest. He probably doesn't think about anyone sexually. Probably took some kind of vow of celibacy that he still honors even though he's not in the church anymore.

And even if he did think about sex, why would he think about me? I'm broken. Damaged. A charity case he picked up in a parking lot.

Not someone he'd actually want.

I smooth down my hair. Arrange myself on the bed like I've been sitting here innocently the whole time. Like I wasn't just masturbating twenty feet away from him while he showered.

God, I'm a mess.

The bathroom door opens.