Page 39 of Phoenix

I feel him stand, and my eyes, as if working on their own free will, blink open just a little to see his sculpted back and then he does the unthinkable.

He reaches down and grasps himself through his sweat pants.

I bite my lips to keep myself from moaning and my pussy weeps in response, wetness coating my thighs.

What is it about men and those damn gray sweatpants?

I clamp my eyes closed once again before he can catch me, and he disappears into the bathroom.

I release the breath I was holding and roll to my back, sliding my thighs against one another for some type of relief. Some type of friction.

The space between my legs is aching, craving attention, begging for release, begging for one little touch, but I can’t do that. Not when he could catch me.

I groan inwardly, already sexually frustrated, when the glorious sound of the shower fills the room.

He’s showering. That means he’ll be in there for at least, what, ten to fifteen minutes?

With the way I feel right now, I’ll just need sixty seconds to get there.

I pause for a moment, debating to myself, but my screaming libido wins.

I glide my left hand down the front of my body and underneath the waistband of my leggings and panties.

My right hand finds a home on my breast and I tease my nipple through the fabric. Instant shocks zing to my pussy.

I take my middle and ring fingers and press them onto my clit, applying just a bit of pressure and gently move them back and forth, just the way I like.

My back arches off the mattress and I squeeze my eyes closed—visions of a very wet Case enter my mind.

His back. His arms. His abs. His laugh. The way his hands would feel curled around my hips as he drives home between my thighs. The way my walls would clench around him and the way he’d command me to come and the...

“Ohhhhhhh God!” I moan, a little too loudly as I begin to come.

I clamp my right hand over my mouth in mortification as the waves of release overtake my body.

Did he hear me? Surely not...right?

But did I want him to hear me?

I kind of did.

I move from the bed a few minutes later when I hear the shower turn off. I take a second to pull the duvet back up where it belongs and then I take a quick peek in the mirror.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

My cheeks definitely have the “Yeah, I totally just fingered myself to the thought of you until I came all over the bed” flushed look.

I don’t have too much time to worry about it because the bathroom door swings open and out walks Case, wearing nothing but a thin, white towel.

“You’re awake,” he says.

“And you’re...wet,” I say, facing him.

“Shower.”

“I figured.”

His wet hair is slicked back and I want nothing more than to slide my hands through it.

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