Page 30 of How to Hack a Hellhound
“Would you take your time stretching me open, or would you not be able to wait to get into my ass?” I asked, and with that, I pushed a second finger inside myself.
I moaned, imagining it was Liam’s fingers rubbing inside me. He’d be able to plunge in nice and deep. I twisted my body more, pushing my fingers further in and managing to hit my prostate.
“Oh god, yeah. Right there, Liam. Right there,” I panted, hitting the spot again and again. I was stroking my dick with my other hand, and my pace picked up. “Keep going, Liam. Want you inside me. Want you to come inside me,” I groaned.
The thought of him filling me up was too much. I was hitting my prostate steadily, stroking myself hard and fast, and cum spilled out of my dick, shooting over my bare body. I groaned in ecstasy, imagining Liam coming at the same time, cum splashing onto his dark suit pants.
When my orgasm faded, I gently withdrew my fingers, smiling. “I hope you got yourself all mussy in your office, my creepy stalker,” I whispered.
I laid there for another minute, the cum cooling on my body, then I got up, wiping it off with a shirt and throwing on my boxers to head to the bathroom to clean up.
I was smiling until I was under the hot spray, and then I started to feel… I don’t know. I’d had a million random hook-ups; I liked getting off, and I liked getting other guys off. I’d never really had a boyfriend—not that Liam was my boyfriend, because he wasn’t. He was… I didn’t know what he was.
But I was having, like… feelings. Ooey-gooey feelings that made my chest hurt. Like my skin was itchy and my eyes hurt and the hot water beating down on my skin wasn’t making me feel any better. And I’d have to look at Liam tomorrow, and I’d just imagined all that shit, and I had no fucking clue if Liam had even been into the whole thing. For all I knew, he’d just stared at me, totally not turned on and just wondering what the fuck was wrong with me.
Or maybe he’d just shut down his computer and left the room, and that was somehow an even worse thought. Like maybe I wasn’t even worth being watched when I was jerking off. Maybe he’d been embarrassed for me and hadn’t wanted to see all that.
I gasped out a sob before I even realized I was crying. I ducked my head under the water, leaning my hands against the tiles behind the shower head, and I tried to pull myself together. What the fuck.
This was not me. I did not cry after sex.
Fuck. It hadn’t even been sex. I’d fucking jerked off. Maybe someone had watched, that was all. And I didn’t even know if he had.
That did not make me feel better.
Fine. I just needed to cry. That was all. I’d cry it out of my system and get over this fucking moment. It was probably just because I hadn’t had sex since the whole thing with Marcus. Not that he had done anything to me, but he was planning to. There was the vulnerability that somethingwouldbe done to me.
Yeah, I probably needed therapy if a jerk-off session made me break down, but fuck that. I wiped at my eyes angrily, but tears were still coming out.
Fuck Marcus, and fuck his friends, and fuck everyone at that fucking bar who watched me leave with him. Fuck everyone who watched James lead me into the back, barely able to walk. No one had said a fucking word. Fuck it. We’d hunt them all down, and I would be fine.
As long as Liam didn’t think I was a freak now and avoid me.
The anger fled from me at that thought, and I just let the tears come, quietly gasping under the hot spray.
I gasped again when the shower curtain was pulled back, ready to reassure Aiden that I wasfine, everything wasfine, only it wasn’t Aiden standing there.
My creepy stalker toed off his shoes and then stepped into the shower with me, dress pants and shirt and everything. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to his chest, getting his outfit totally soaked.
“I’mfine,” I insisted, but he only held onto me more tightly, and I pressed my head into his now soaking wet shirt. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I mumbled, tears still coming out of my eyes.
“Nothing is wrong with you. You’re perfect and sexy,” he rumbled against my head. His face was nuzzling my damp hair.
My creepy stalker must have heard me crying, come over, and come into the shower—and he hadn’t even bothered taking his clothes off. It made me feel better to think that he had watched me. I let my eyes drift down, and I tried to steal aglance at the front of his pants to see if they were stained, but it was a little hard to do. I could see his soaking wet socks next to my bare feet, and the whole thing suddenly seemed totally ludicrous.
I stifled a giggle. He breathed in deeply, and he seemed to relax a tiny bit.
“Are you sniffing me?” I asked, giggling again.
“You’re not as distressed now,” he answered.
“You’re in my shower. Fully dressed,” I sniffed.
I sort of wiped my face against his shirt, because yeah, it was gonna need to be washed anyway. The crying seemed to have passed, and now I just felt kind of stupid about the whole thing.
“You said that I didn’t have to be polite with you and that there were no boundaries,” he answered. “You were so beautiful and sexy, but then you were upset in the shower.”
“It wasn’t sex,” I said automatically.
